She stepped around a stone pillar and Nora nearly gasped at the expanse and opulence. Down three steps that ran the length of the room and across the wide space covered with impossibly thick white carpet, floor-to-cathedral-ceiling windows faced the Flatirons. In the daytime, the view would be breathtaking. Tonight, with snow swirling outside, it was merely spectacular. A huge stone fireplace occupied one whole wall and several white couches and chairs made up a couple of conversation areas. It resembled the lobby of a posh hotel more than a real person’s living room.
How often did Sylvia entertain? Nora couldn’t imagine one person wanting to spend time with Sylvia, let alone a team large enough to make this room practical.
“She’s not much for color.”
Nora gasped and whirled around at the sound.
Snap. The room burst into light and Abigail adjusted the dimmer from spotlight to natural. She stepped from behind a pillar and surveyed the room from the top stair, hands on her hips.
“My god, Mother, you scared me. I thought you were in the Jeep talking to Charlie.”
Abigail waved her hand. “A phone only works when you turn it on. I can’t make him understand that. I left some voice-mails but I don’t think he knows how to retrieve them.”
Nora gazed out the tall windows at the swirling snow. Petal might be out there.
“Did you see that chandelier in the entryway?” Abigail asked, disgust ringing her words.
The fireplace gaped at Nora as if waiting for a sacrifice. “I didn’t pay any attention.”
Abigail loved to tour houses. She wasn’t shy about giving her decorating opinions. “It’s ostentatious. The entryway calls for something smaller and more tasteful. This place reeks of new money.”
As if Abigail came from a long line of aristocrats. She’d grown up in Nebraska and only later married money. Lots of it. Mostly gone now.
Nora started for the stairs. “We shouldn’t be here. I think it’s breaking and entering.”
Abigail scrutinized the room. “Nonsense. The door was wide open. As friends, we’re obligated to check things out and make sure Sylvia is all right.”
“Friends?”
“Small detail,” Abigail said and descended the stairs. “The carpet is a nice weave but the white is much too risky if you want to actually live in your home.”
“This is a bad idea,” Nora said to Abbey.
“It’s too stark with all this white. Although I do appreciate the natural elements of the stone. And, oh Nora, look at those beams. Those are very nice. I can’t identify the wood. Not pine.”
Who cared? Nora gave up the sane notion of high-tailing it out of there and advanced on a bookshelf inset into the wall opposite the fireplace. Framed photos sat amid glass sculptures. Compared to the sharp angles and abstract contemporary art on the walls, the frames fairly twisted in ornate gilt gold.
Abigail stood in front of one of the furniture groupings assessing the accent pillows. Abbey plopped down and rested his head on his paws.
The photos mostly showed professional studio shots of Sylvia. From the headshots at various angles and the posed casuals, it seemed Sylvia loved playing fashion model. There were only a few photos not done with the intent of making Sylvia gorgeous.
Abigail abruptly walked from the furniture to the fireplace. “This room is a mosh-posh of mixed styles. Most unsettling.”
“Shhhh.” Nora cocked her head. “Do you hear anything?”
Abigail paused a moment. “No. You’re letting your imagination loose again.”
Nora turned back to the photos. Abigail joined her and peered over her shoulder.
Abigail pointed to a picture. “What about this?” Sylvia stood next to a dark-haired, older, and more-worn version of herself. An awkward girl of about thirteen stood in front of the two women, shooting a cheesy grin at the camera. From the high-wasted slacks and style of the jacket, the picture must have been taken twenty years ago.
Nora studied the picture. “Must be family. At least it proves she didn’t rise from a lagoon on a dark, stormy night.”
Abigail picked it up and stared. “That little girl is Petal.”
“Right. Now who’s imagination is running wild?” Nora focused on another interesting shot.
Abigail thrust the frame under Nora’s nose. “Look at it.”
Nora hadn’t seen Petal’s impish side as much as Abigail had, but the little face did bear a kind of resemblance to Petal in her rare happy moments. “I can see how you’d think that. But it’s a coincidence.”
Abigail pursed her lips and set the photo on the shelf.
Nora picked up the frame she’d been studying. “Whoa.” She handed Abigail the snapshot of Sylvia arm in arm, gazing adoringly at someone.
Abigail gasped. “That’s Daniel!”
Nora pointed at the picture. “See in the background? They’re standing in front of World Petro.”
Abigail shrugged and handed it back. “She’s having an affair with that Latin lover. I knew there was something fishy about him.”
“World Petro is his father’s company.” Nora stared at the picture. “Supposedly, Daniel is trying to stop them and others from drilling for oil in the Amazon Basin.”
Abigail trod across the room and up the steps. “It’s shocking that a woman Sylvia’s age would cavort with someone like Daniel but it happens.”
“Cavort?” Nora set the picture down and followed Abigail.
They continued down the hall toward what appeared to be the kitchen. “You know what I mean,” Abigail said.
Nora noticed the paw prints Abbey was leaving on the white carpet. Sylvia wasn’t going to be pleased. “If Daniel and Sylvia are having an affair, why are they keeping it a secret?”
Abigail felt around on the wall of the dark kitchen. “It isn’t good policy for a board member to be sleeping with the hired help.”
If the dark, silent house weren’t so creepy, and if they weren’t breaking the law, and if she didn’t think that Petal might be in some kind of danger, she might find the idea of Sylvia being called hired help amusing.
Abigail slapped on the light to reveal a kitchen fit for an Iron Chef. Copper cookware hung from a rack above a center island covered with gleaming granite and big enough to dance a tango on. The cooktop had more burners than the Octomom had babies. Two ovens, two refrigerators, miles of counter space, and gadgets Nora could only guess at. If anything had been used, Nora couldn’t tell.
Abigail didn’t sound impressed. “It’s all for show. She clearly doesn’t cook.”
“Daniel’s been helping me to sort out the financials. If he and Sylvia are together, why would he do that?”
Abigail slapped off the light and brushed past Nora. “Maybe he’s trying to keep you from finding something that incriminates her.”
Could he be protecting Sylvia? But if he loved her, why didn’t he just give her $400,000? For someone with his resources, that wouldn’t be much.
Next up was the dining room. Abigail found a dimmer switch and turned it up. “Oh my. My oh my.”
The dining room table was a mass of wrought iron and glass. The chairs twisted in bizarre shapes like torture devices. Dinner in this room would be about as much fun as an evening in the dungeons of the Spanish Inquisition.
Abigail tsked. “I suppose Sylvia thinks this passes for art. She’s obviously trying too hard.”
“Petal said Sylvia worked for someone powerful. With World Petro behind him, Daniel is certainly powerful.”
Abigail stared at the dining table as if considering how to destroy it. “The only thing worth keeping in this room is the chandelier. That’s quite lovely, actually.” She brushed her hands as if to get rid of the room and strode down the hall. “Let’s go check upstairs.”
“No,” Nora said. “This has gone too far already.”
Abigail waved her off. “We need to make sure Petal isn’t hiding up there. Besides, I want to see the bedrooms.”
“Big mistake,” Nora grumbled to Abbey. He sat in the foyer watching her.
Abigail trotted up the stairs, scowling at the abstract oil paintings and shaking her head. She reached the landing halfway up and her phone jangled.
Abigail held it up and frowned. “Why is Cole calling me?” She answered and her face lit up like Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve. She pulled the phone away and said to Nora, “My knight in shining armor. His battery died but he was desperate to talk to me.” She turned her back on Nora and spoke into the phone. “I’m so sorry!”
Nora stopped several steps down. Abbey hadn’t moved.
“Just a minute, dear.” Abigail pulled the phone from her ear. “I need to take this in private. You check upstairs and I’ll wait for you in the Jeep.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Abigail lowered her eyebrows. “Private conversation, Nora.” She skipped down the stairs, knocking Nora to the wall.
Nora watched Abigail hurry outside. Abbey sat at the base of the stairs. Once more Nora eyed the front door and escape. “Did I mention what a mistake this is?” she said to Abbey. The golden retriever wisely kept his own counsel. She climbed the stairs, feeling the weight of the silence grow more dense with each step. “Abbey, come.”
Abbey gave her his I-don’t-wanna attitude.
“Stop being lazy,” Nora said. “Come.”
Reluctantly, he got to his feet and climbed after her.
A strange odor crept into her nostrils like a hairy caterpillar. Was Sylvia’s toilet clogged? But no, it didn’t smell like bad sewer. Whatever it was, though, it stunk.
Maybe that black thing on the floor? No, that was a smashed smartphone. Creepy. The hallway ran the length of the foyer, looking down on the chandelier—now that Nora noticed, the room really was gaudy. To the right a few doors opened onto dark rooms.
The slightly worn path in the thick pile led to the left. Must be the master bedroom.
Nora leaned down and scratched Abbey’s head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And yet, her feet carried her down the hall, however slowly.
The stench was like thick Yuck Chowder.
Nora glanced behind her to make sure Abbey was following close behind.
She snaked her hand around the wall to the dark room and felt for the light.
forty
At first the muted light of the bedroom didn’t reveal much. Sylvia must keep the lights dim in here to set the mood. The bedroom was only slightly smaller than the great room. The section closest to the door contained a sitting area with a fireplace. A television the size of a child’s wading pool hung on the wall.
The massive four-poster bed jutted from the far corner of the room and black dressers accented the room. Even with all the furniture, someone could still perform a gymnastics floor routine. Who needed this much space?
The covers bunched at the foot of the bed and spilled onto the floor. The carpet seemed to have a splotchy pattern in a dark color by the bathroom door. Odd.
A nightlight cast a glow from the bathroom across the room. Sylvia was not the neatest person because she’d left shoes and clothes strewn on the floor.
Abbey whined. He retreated to stand by the top of the stairs.
Nora found the light switch and toggled it up. The wall sconces brightened, as did the chandelier. How many crystal chandeliers did it take to please Sylvia?
Nora stepped tentatively into the room.
Dear God.
Nora gasped and stepped back, running into the doorjamb.
She wanted to run but couldn’t make her feet move.
What she’d thought was a pattern on the rug so obviously wasn’t.
Blood. So much blood. Crimson splashes on the wall by the bathroom. Deep ruby on the white carpet. The smell. It made horrible sense.
Scuffed black men’s shoes with thick leather soles, black socks, and the bottom of black trousers made up what she’d thought was a pile of Sylvia’s clothes.
Nora gagged. The walls and white sheet of the bed resembled a macabre Jackson Pollock interpretation of red, with enough lighter colored chunks to add texture and depth.
Nora spun and raced down the hallway. Abbey barked. Nora lunged into the closest bathroom and made it in time to vomit into the toilet. Shaking and slimed with cold sweat, she braced herself on the counter and turned on the tap. She rinsed her mouth, her legs trembling and threatening to give out.
She had to go back. The shoes and pants gave Nora an awful sense of recognition.
Nora knelt and buried her face in Abbey’s fur. She hesitated a moment to calm down enough to force herself to return to the room. She pulled herself up and, step by awful step, made her way back to the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, staring at the black shoes.
Nora needed to see around the foot of the bed, beyond the shoes. She swallowed but her mouth felt like a desert.
Step. Step. Bit by bit the body came into view. Dress pants covered the legs. A white shirt pulled out of the waistband over a soft, pudgy belly.
One more step revealed the entire body.
Nora held her hand over her mouth. “Oh no.” The head had been blown away. Pieces of it stuck to the wall and the side of the bed. White pieces of skull with wisps of black hair clumped amid globs of bloody brain.
Nora backed away. Tears ran down her face and she gagged again. There was no face, but she’d seen enough to know it was Mark Monstain.
A voice squeaked from the dark corner of the room next to a tall armoire. “Nora?”
She whirled around, heart in her throat.
The wad of fabric and hair wedged between a dresser and the corner of the room mewled. “Oh Nora.”
Nora rushed to Petal. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Scarlet slashes marked Petal’s cheeks, matching the rings around her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. “Sylvia and Daniel. They were here.”
Nora kept her face turned away from the gruesomeness at the other end of the bedroom. Waves of toxic fear sloshed inside her. She reached for Petal and tugged at her to stand. Together they lumbered to the hallway. “Did Daniel do this? Is he still here?”
Petal shook her head. “I don’t know. Mark was dead when I got here.”
Nora kept her arm around Petal as they moved toward the stairs. “Where did they go?”
Petal trembled against Nora as they descended one stair at a time. “They went to the Trust. Sylvia wanted to set the coordinates. They’re going to send a beam at dawn.”
Abbey squeezed around them and plodded down the stairs to the foyer.
“Sylvia’s not gathering data on climate change, is she.”
Petal shook her head.
They made it to the foyer and both sat on the bottom step, huddled together. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Petal swiped her sleeve across her nose. “The beam is set at a refractory angle to strike in Ecuador.”
Now it made sense. “Daniel isn’t really trying to protect the rainforest. Why are they targeting Ecuador?”
Petal shivered despite all her layers. “The beam will start an earthquake. That will trigger the volcanoes and they’ll erupt. They’ll wipe out whole cities. After that happens, the government will sell the oil rights so the companies will pump money into the country and they can rebuild.”
Heat surged over Nora’s body and her ears rang. “They’re staging a natural disaster so World Petro can get richer? They can’t do that!”
Petal stared at her with round, watery eyes. “They can.”
Nora jerked the girl to her feet and noticed she wore damp wool socks and no shoes. “We have to stop them!”
She pulled Petal to the door and reached for the knob. A movement th
rough the side windows stopped her.
She caught her breath and watched through the window as a black Lincoln Town Car stopped at the curb and shut off its lights. The driver’s side door opened and a tall man dressed in black started up the front walk.
forty-one
Nora dropped to the marble floor, pulling Petal down. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered.
“No.” Petal’s cry sounded plaintive.
Nora crawled toward the hallway. “This way. I think there’s a door in the kitchen.”
Abbey plodded after Nora, unconcerned with her strange behavior.
As soon as Nora was far enough into the hall that she couldn’t be seen through the foyer windows, she jumped to her feet and sprinted toward the kitchen.
Petal ran after her, small moans escaping with each step.
Nora pushed the kitchen door open and halted in the darkness, remembering the layout. Island, stove, sub-zero freezer, more counters. Her mind found escape just as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
They heard the front door open. Why hadn’t they locked it? It snicked closed.
She grabbed Petal’s hand and patted her thigh to call Abbey closer.
“Here.” They skirted the kitchen island, heading for the garage door. All three of them hurried through the door.
If they’d had the time, they could have had a barn dance in the garage. With no windows, it was even darker than the kitchen. Nora’s feet clattered on the textured concrete floor as she dragged Petal toward the back where she hoped she’d find escape.
She fumbled beside the large overhead garage door, desperate to find a regular door knob. If they used the automatic door it would sound like a buffalo stampede and they’d lose any chance of sneaking away.
She couldn’t find a door. Frantic, Nora stopped and searched the dark garage. A small light by the kitchen showed the overhead door control. They might be able to escape if the man in black started upstairs in his search.
At any rate, they had no choice.
Nora ran back to the kitchen door and punched the control.
Broken Trust Page 24