She watched Daniel’s gaze flit to the cement porch. She knew it really should be much larger with a few columns. Still, stone lions might be too much.
“I did not know you were an animal lover.”
Sylvia spun around to see the scruffy calico cat on her porch. “I’ll need to call the HOA again. She turns up every few days and begs for food. Someone in the neighborhood must feed her.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows in dismissal. He waited a moment. “And how do you propose the Trust find the money for your defense?”
She thought he’d dropped the subject.
“You haven’t given the board much progress to make them inclined to pay for expensive lawyers.”
What had gotten into everyone all of the sudden? The board and Eduardo, all of them thought she did nothing all day except dance to their tune.
Only her dignity kept her from slapping him. “What about your family foundation? Can’t you get it from your father?”
Daniel eyed her as if gauging her mood.
Sylvia opened her car door and a rush of cold air invaded them. “Are you saying you won’t support me in this?”
His eyes focused on her cleavage in obvious desire. “I did not mean to upset you. I am only wanting you to think about the problems you’ve created for the Trust and my family.”
His family. As if Daniel had the slightest clue what his father felt about anything. “Ask Eduardo. He’ll make sure I don’t go to prison.”
Daniel’s eyebrows jumped up. “Eduardo. How is it you and my father have met?”
In her anger she’d made a wrong step. Eduardo wouldn’t want his name brought up to Daniel. “He admires my work. That’s why he brought me to the Trust in the first place.”
Daniel digested that. “He brought you to the Trust, where I sit on the board, so that your groundbreaking study would reflect well on the organization. And he so generously allows the family trust to donate to your research.”
Careful now. She reached over and ran a fingernail along the base of his throat and watched the goose bumps rise. “He wants you to be happy.”
He caught her hand and pulled it away from his neck. “Is that why he sent you? Because I can’t find my own importance in the world? Because I can’t find my own women?”
“You couldn’t be suggesting your father is pimping me out to you, either personally or professionally?”
Daniel studied her. “Did he?”
How dare he? She flew out of the car. “Eduardo doesn’t control my research or who I sleep with.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you on his payroll to keep an eye on me?”
Intolerable! She slammed the door and started up the walk.
The damned calico cat twined herself between Sylvia’s legs nearly bringing her to the pavement. She kicked it into the grass. It yowled and sped away.
eighteen
The old farmhouse creaked every few minutes. Nora thought ghosts probably wandered the dark hallways and empty offices. If they didn’t, they should. This building seemed strange enough in the daytime but at night, when she was the only one here, it felt like the House of Dracula.
Darkness filled her window, casting a reflection on her office and the light she’d turned on to dispel the creeps. Thank dog no wind is coming down Boulder Canyon to rattle the window and shriek against the siding or I wouldn’t have been able to stay here this long.
After her escape from Pearl Street and Abigail’s dreams of a corporate career, Nora had hurried home to change into jeans and get Abbey. Then she met Daniel at the Trust. They’d tried to sift through the various activities and funds, bank statements and grants. Daniel said he had something to do and left for about an hour, then came back and insisted he take her to dinner.
They’d eaten at a Mediterranean place downtown. He was as charming as he was handsome, and the food was delicious. They’d chatted about childhood and exchanged details of colleges and highlights of their lives. Nora glossed over her marriage, the snow-making scheme in Flagstaff, and the drama associated with it.
She’d been fascinated by Daniel’s self-deprecating humor as he told of growing up in excess. He’d spent his youth chasing excitement from skiing in the Alps to scuba diving on the Barrier Reef to misadventures in Europe and the Middle East. Nora was sure he had enough stories to keep talking for months. But after all that running around, he said he finally understood his wealth could be used for something besides his own pleasure and he planned to spend it protecting the Ecuadoran rainforest.
Nora felt an urge to get back to the office and he’d obliged. He tried to talk her into going home but she wanted to get a few things organized before she called it quits for the night.
She was building the mother of all spreadsheets. Tomorrow she’d populate the columns and rows with the data from bank statements and financial statements and then she’d be able to analyze where the money came from and where it went.
Her eyes burned and she leaned back for a break. “That’s enough for tonight,” she said to Abbey.
He opened his eyes and thumped his tail.
Nora’s eye caught the empty box she’d used to bring some of her personal things to the Trust. “She’s not coming back.” This time Abbey didn’t bother to open his eyes. Nora stood and stacked the self-help books into the box. Then she placed the porcelain animals on top. She added the stack of Darla’s affirmations she’d collected to the box. Finally, she picked up Darla’s picture.
A heavy blanket of sadness fell on Nora. She couldn’t imagine someone so overlooked in life would be remembered long after death. It seemed a terrible waste.
She placed the picture in the box and contemplated the top yellow sheet. “I will confront Sylvia.” It was copied the length of the page. Nora picked up the stack of sheets and paged through until she found what she searched for. “I am strong enough to stand up to her.” Nora assumed the her was Sylvia.
“What do you suppose she wanted to confront her about?” Abbey lifted his head and yawned. The other staffers and now the police suspected Sylvia of killing Darla. Maybe Sylvia had something to do with whatever it was Darla supposedly found in the books.
And maybe the moon is made of green cheese, as Abigail used to say whenever Nora’s imagination got the best of her—which happened often.
Nora winked at Abbey. “I agree. Time to call it a night.” She donned her coat and picked up her bag. Abbey followed her as they descended the narrow stairs to the kitchen. They turned toward the lobby and Nora stopped.
She hesitated. “It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”
Abbey didn’t protest as Nora tiptoed through the kitchen to Sylvia’s office. The kitchen floor creaked and Abbey’s claws clicked on the linoleum. Nora slowed as she approached Sylvia’s office door. She shouldn’t snoop.
She whispered to Abbey. “I won’t touch anything. Just look around a little. No going through drawers or anything like that.” She pushed open the door, the sound like thunder in the quiet house. Nora stepped into the room and felt for the light. She flicked it on.
Someone screamed.
Nora screamed.
Abbey barked.
Nora jumped back, ready to retreat.
Her eyes finally focused. She clamped a hand to her chest and sucked in air. “Petal! What are you doing here?”
Petal sat in a nest of her own clothes close to her desk. The pink glow of her scarf-draped lamp faded in the overhead light. She blinked in the sudden brightness. “I’m—uh—I’m—sometimes Sylvia can’t sleep and works at night. I thought maybe she’d be up tonight because of the, uh, the—because of the trouble.”
“This is crazy,” Nora said. Abbey sat in the doorway.
Petal rose and pulled out her desk chair. She huddled into it. “She doesn’t ask me to do it. It’s okay.”
With Darla gone Petal
had no one to go home to, no one to keep tabs on her.
Even if Abigail was furious about Nora’s no-show earlier, at least she knew her mother loved her and would care if she never came home. “I think I saw some hot chocolate mix in the kitchen cupboard. Why don’t I make us some?”
Petal jumped up with a grin on her face. “I can do it.” She scurried from the office and Nora heard banging in the kitchen.
She tilted her head at Abbey. “As long as we’re here …” She wandered casually to Sylvia’s desk. A 24-inch monitor dominated the desk and a laptop sat on the edge. The wood gleamed with only one lone sheet of notebook paper shoved half under the laptop.
The microwave hummed in the kitchen. Nora gingerly slid the sheet of paper from under the laptop. A tree graph with several circles showed a confusing jumble. It looked like Darla’s idea of fund accounting. In other words, chaos. Nora bent closer. Credit card and bank names labeled the circles along with various names of people. Dollar amounts in the thousands were inked on arrows going from circle to circle.
What a financial juggling act. Sylvia was either a genius or heading for a big crash.
The ding of the microwave warned of Petal’s return. Nora shoved the paper back and headed for the kitchen.
“That smells good,” Nora said when Petal handed her a chipped mug of hot chocolate. Actually, it smelled sickeningly sweet. “Let’s sit at the booth.”
Petal acted surprised. “Okay. I don’t think I’ve ever sat there before.”
They settled themselves in the booth with the glow of an overhead light casting their reflection in the darkened window.
“Can I ask you something?” Petal said. “What is your mother’s story?”
“Her story?” Nora thought a moment. “Well, she grew up in Nebraska and went to school here in Boulder at CU. I guess she met my father there, but he apparently left us when I was a baby.”
“Where does he live?” Petal asked.
Nora shrugged. “I don’t know and don’t care. He didn’t want us, so why should I want him?”
Petal frowned and sipped her hot chocolate. “What happened to your mother after he left?”
Nora held her palm over the steaming cup. “She married Berle when I was about five. He had a lot of money and that suited her.”
Petal sipped and set her mug down. “I thought so.”
“What do you mean?” The hot chocolate did indeed taste too sweet for Nora.
“Well, she’s got all this high-society class and taste and stuff, but she’s too nice to have been raised with money.”
Nora wrapped her hands around her warm mug. “I hadn’t thought about it but maybe Abigail’s coming full circle. She started out humble, lived large for a while, and now she’s back to humble.”
“With Charlie?” The pinks and oranges of Petal’s layers became flowers in the window’s reflection.
“Well, there was another husband between Berle and Charlie, but he died of a heart attack when they’d only been married a couple of years.”
Petal finished her hot chocolate and curled her feet under her. “Do you like Charlie?”
The house had been growing steadily colder since the heater’s timer set it on nighttime temperature.
Nora couldn’t stop her grin. “Charlie’s my best friend. Or he was when I lived in Flagstaff. He’s a real character. Vietnam vet, true environmentalist. Loyal and completely devoted to Abigail.” No matter what she said about an alleged affair.
Petal sighed.
“What about you? Where is your mother?” Nora asked.
Petal swirled her cup. “Oh. My mother lives in New Orleans. She’s got some medical problems. That’s why I need this job. I help her out.”
A boom sounded from the front door. Nora and Petal both jumped and Petal let out a squeak of alarm. Abbey lifted his head and woofed.
The building sighed as the front door opened.
Nora’s heart nearly burst. Petal flew out of the booth and raced toward Sylvia’s office.
“Boulder County Police,” a low-pitched woman’s voice called.
Nora rose on shaky legs and stepped around the kitchen wall into the lobby. Abbey followed her.
A uniformed police officer stood by the door, her belt weighing her down with all manner of tools or weapons. She held a flashlight but hadn’t turned it on.
Nora hurried to her. “I’m Nora Abbott. Can I help you?”
The officer studied her. “Officer Garcia.” She introduced herself. “Do you work here?”
“I just started yesterday.” Nora’s heart still thudded.
Officer Garcia surveyed the room and let her gaze travel up the stairs. “Are you here alone?”
Nora pointed toward the kitchen. “My colleague is here.”
Garcia nodded. “Working late?”
“Yes. Trying to catch up.” Nora felt as though she ought to adopt the spare speaking style of the officer.
Garcia’s voice bordered on masculine and she sounded almost angry. “You know a woman was murdered out here a few days ago.”
Fear spiked Nora’s flesh. If Garcia were here to reassure Nora, she failed.
“I’d suggest you wrap up your work for tonight and head home.”
“I was just leaving.”
“Good. I’ll wait in the parking lot and follow you out.” Garcia swept her gaze over the lobby and she walked out the door.
Petal crept around the corner. “Is she gone?”
Nora watched Garcia out the front window. “Guess she’s checking up on us. Probably a good thing.”
Petal hung her head and retreated to the kitchen.
Nora followed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Can I give you a ride?”
Petal shook her head. “No. I’ve got my bike.”
Nora carried their cups to the sink. Petal scuttled to Sylvia’s office.
Nora shrugged into her coat. She hollered to Petal. “I’ll wait for you and lock up.”
Petal stuck her head out of the office. “Go ahead. I’m just going to leave Sylvia a note in case she comes in.”
Nora held the door open for Abbey and closed it after he stepped out on the porch. Cold mountain air chilled Nora’s fingers and nose. The deep silence closed around her.
Darla died on a night like this. Not a hundred yards from where Nora stood.
Someone killed her.
On a night like this.
nineteen
The furnace rumbled to life in the drafty farmhouse. Nora reached under her desk and turned off the ceramic heater that had made her office tolerable for the past two hours. She scoped out the clock on her computer. Seven o’clock. Weak light sneaked from her western-facing window announcing another day.
She’d been here late last night with Petal; late enough that Abigail had given up waiting for her and gone to bed. Nora returned hours before dawn, cutting her night short. Whenever something creaked or bumped—which happened often in the rambling old building—Nora had to talk herself into staying calm and ignoring her urge to leave.
As creepy as the Trust was, it seemed a good alternative to facing Abigail’s wrath. She’d endured one raging phone call about missing the interview yesterday and would probably be in for a few more. But if she could delay it, Abigail might lose steam. She could hope, anyway.
She scratched Abbey behind his ears and he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Another hour before anyone comes to work.” At least, Mark said they were supposed to show up at eight.
Her green banker’s lamp illuminated the work space around her computer and she hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights. She’d focused on organizing and familiarizing herself with the inner workings of the Trust. The $4 million budget was divided into eight distinct projects with their own budgets, each funded with grants and donations, some shared, some
specific with restricted and unrestricted funds coming in and going out of five different bank accounts and tied to several investment accounts. She’d need to simplify the system. No one could keep track of this financial maze. Tracking the grants alone might be a full-time job.
Nora could usually drill into a problem and block out any distractions. It’s how she’d been so successful in school and able to run a ski resort by herself. But this morning, her brain was like a kindergartner with ADHD.
One moment she thought about Cole standing amid the colorful fall leaves on the mall yesterday. The Cole slideshow flipped to him on her ski mountain in Flagstaff, defending her at Scott’s funeral. Next slide: Cole fighting off an attacker who tried to strangle Nora to keep her from making snow on the sacred peaks. Flip: Cole grinning and catching her in his arms when she’d discovered he hadn’t been killed. He’d risked his life to save hers.
Stop this!
As soon as she forced her mind from Cole, it bounced back to Benny and worse still, Nakwaiyamtewa. She was never sure if he and the kachina were one and the same. The kachina wore colorful clothes and feathers, his mask fierce and frightening.
Nakwaiyamtewa stood no taller than five feet and appeared and disappeared like Whac-A-Mole. Nora had only seen him a few times in quiet moments. He was a man of few words and those were usually some kind of annoying riddle.
Turns out, Nakwaiyamtewa died in the 1880s. His descendent, Benny, carried on the Hopi traditions. No doubt they had coffee together every morning and discussed the local corn harvest and state of the world they claimed responsibility for.
Another reason Nora had climbed from her bed so early was the dreaming. The kachina had crashed through the forest every time she drifted off last night. He chased someone, maybe her, she couldn’t tell in the dream. The fear bursting through her sleep into her bedroom left her panting and unwilling to go back to sleep. Now a low-grade headache banged behind her eyes.
Focus!
The Trust staffers should be showing up soon. Would they find out she’d spilled her guts to the board and revealed whose work was in the red or black? If so, they might treat her like a squealer. Goodbye to the notion of friends.
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