Secrets at Sweetwater Cove

by Sally Roseveare

  “What?”

  “Follow me.” Dixie Lee took his hand, led him into her bedroom, pointed to her nightstand. “I have sleep apnea, Charlie. I have to wear that stupid head thing every single night or I don’t breathe. I look like something out of a science fiction movie when I have it on. And it makes noise, too.” She looked at him. “You can back out now. No hard feelings.”

  Charlie laughed. “Dixie Lee, I have sleep apnea, too. And I also wear a mask.” He pulled her into his arms. “So are we going to get married or not?”

  “Yes, Charlie. Yes.”

  “You know what? I was about to pop the question when Sam called and said Aurora was missing.”

  “I know.”

  “You knew? How?”

  “We females just know these things. Stop talking and kiss me, Charlie Anderson.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Back at La Grande Maison, Win and Carole walked the winding cobblestone path to the boardwalk. So far, Win noticed, the pill the bartender had dropped in her wine didn’t appear to be working. Oh, sure, she giggled more than usual, and seemed to stagger a little at times, but he’d expected she’d be feeling the drug more by now.

  “How you doing, Carole? Feel okay?” He stumbled slightly.

  “I’m fine, just a little sleepy. Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

  “No, of course not, just wanted to be sure you were warm enough. This night air’s getting chilly and your jacket’s not very heavy.” So why am I sweating? Win wondered.

  “Thanks for your concern, Win.” Watching him wipe perspiration from his brow, Carole prayed the drug was doing its job.

  “Believe me, I’m—” She stopped, stared at the powerboat tied up in a covered boat slip. “I’ve seen that boat before—this morning, in the Smith Mountain Eagle. An out-of-state resident reported it stolen from his boathouse when he came to his lake home the other day.”

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken. No one could hide stolen boats here.” Win tightened his grip on her arm. “The boardwalk’s that way. Let’s go.”

  “No. I want a better look.” All thoughts of Win and the drug forgotten, she broke free and dashed to the dock.

  “Look, Win, this is a Fountain powerboat, definitely the one pictured in the paper. It’s the same color, same style. Even the name Delilah painted on the side is the same. This is a stolen boat. We should call the cops immediately.” She dug in her purse for her cell phone.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Carole.” He reached for her. “Let’s go.” She side-stepped him.

  “I’m going aboard.” Carole scrambled over the boat’s gunwale.

  “You know what I just realized, Win? We saw this very same boat docked at a house I showed you over the weekend. I remember how excited you were when you saw it. You even climbed inside. Surely you recognize it.”

  “Get out of that boat, Carole. I’m not kidding. You’re sticking your head into business that doesn’t concern you. Get out now or you’ll get yourself in deep trouble. I mean it.”

  Surprised at his threats and his tone of voice, Carole saw the menacing eyes Aurora had described—eyes infinitely more dangerous than those she’d looked into at the dinner table. An awful realization dawned on her: Win stole the boat, brought it here. Was he planning on keeping it for himself or selling it? Were the “commodities” he dealt with stolen boats? Had he been using the excuse to buy a house as a means to search for high-end boats?

  “You never had any intention of buying a house. I know that now. You used me. If you want me to get out, you’ll have to come get me.” Carole darted below deck, grabbed her phone and dialed 911. No signal. Dropping the cell back in her purse, she pulled out the .22. She heard Win’s feet on the top step. He reached for her. She pointed the pistol at his chest.

  “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot.”

  “You think that pea shooter will stop me? Don’t kid yourself.” Win swayed, steadied himself.

  “I’m a good shot, Win. And this pea shooter as you call it may not kill you, but it will do some serious damage where you don’t want damage done.” She lowered her aim from his chest to his groin.

  Win lunged at her. The gun flew from her hand and skidded across the room. She fell to the floor. Win stood over her and laughed. Carole screamed at the weight of his body falling on top of her. She screamed again, kicked, beat her fists against his shoulders and the sides of his head.

  Win didn’t budge. Carole stopped fighting, willed herself to be still, and waited.

  “Win,” she said, after 30 seconds of lying on the floor, “get off me.” He didn’t move. “Get off!”

  But he didn’t. And he didn’t utter a sound. She heard breathing, nothing else. She figured the drugged wine had finally done its job, hoped he’d be out for several hours.

  She shoved him off her body and retrieved her .22. A wicked grin covered her face. Resisting the urge to pump bullets into Win, she tied his shoelaces together before going above deck. She secured the hatch from above, exited the powerboat, and vanished into the night.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Carole skirted the lit paths and crept toward the house. If she could find her car, she’d have a chance to escape. The diagram would help her locate the garage, but she needed light to read it. In her mind she pictured Win’s drawing, looked up at the well-lit mansion, angled to the left and up.

  From the top of the hill a dog barked, then another. Carol stopped and waited for another sound. If security had released guard dogs, she was in big trouble. But, she reasoned, if dogs were running loose, then Win wouldn’t have taken her for the walk. She figured the dogs would be released only if there was a security problem, and the grounds’ security could not possibly know Win was unconscious in a boat and that she was plotting her getaway. Or could they? Suppose the drug had not worked well on Win and he’d awakened and called them.

  At the sound of a man’s voice a few feet away, she jerked to a stop and squatted behind a thick Nandina bush. Peeping through the branches, she saw the man silhouetted against the dimly lit steps.

  “Any sign of ‘em?” the man called.

  “Nope,” said an answering voice near the lake. “I’ll check the waterfront. Has anybody searched the stables and tennis courts?”

  “They’re checking now. Want me to turn the Dobermans loose?”

  Normally unafraid of dogs, Carole was terrified. Being ripped to pieces by a pack of killer Doberman pinschers didn’t appeal to her. Momentary relief spread over her when one of the men hollered to the other.

  “Naw, not yet. If you see him, tell him to call his mom. According to the bartender, I don’t think Mr. Ford would appreciate being disturbed right now.”

  Whew, saved by the bartender, thought Carole. She stayed hidden for fifteen minutes until the voices stopped and the dogs no longer barked. With the lights from the mansion guiding her, she inched her way around bushes and flowerbeds until she reached the left side of the house. Hearing faint sounds of music from inside, she peeped in a first floor window. In the ballroom, a small band played while couples danced to the Latin rhythm. She ducked when a man stared in her direction.

  On the other side of the house, she pulled out her crude map and studied it. Judging by the direction the valet had driven her car, a monstrous garage should be to the right. She turned the corner of the house and stopped short. The garage she sought loomed straight ahead. Spotlights flooded the detached, six-bay building. No shrubbery grew near it. How could she manage to get inside without being seen?

  Carole decided to work her way to the back of the building, see if there were other entrances and less chance of someone catching her. Keeping close to the ground, she reached the rear.

  Three more garage doors faced her. Two regular three-foot wide doors flanked the garage doors. To the side of each was a window. Carole reasoned that behind one door was an office; the other probably contained an apartment or automotive shop. Because a light shone from one window, she sneaked toward
the other door. The door opened and two men stepped outside.

  Carole darted around the corner of the building, flattened her body against the wall. She held her breath and prayed the men wouldn’t come her way. She heard voices, the strike of a match. The men laughed and walked off in the other direction. Carole smelled marijuana. She forced herself not to cough.

  Peeking around the building, she saw no one. Silently she moved to the door and tried the doorknob. When it turned in her hand, she nearly yelled for joy. Holding her breath, she stepped inside almost total darkness. There was a faint light. She waited until her eyes adjusted, then walked across the room and looked through a glass-topped door into a huge room. Dim bare-bulb lights dangled from the ceiling. She guessed this was the garage she sought. Now if she could find her car before someone found her.

  Carole crept past a silver Rolls-Royce, two stretch limousines, a black Corvette, and a yellow Ferrari. Nice cars, but they didn’t look nearly as fine to her as did her ordinary car when she found it behind the Ferrari in the last bay closest to a garage door. She figured she and Win must have been the last to arrive.

  How would she get her car out? And were the keys in it? She opened the car door, slid in the driver’s seat and reached around to the ignition. Hallelujah! The keys were there. Now she needed to open the garage door. But how?

  The dim ceiling lights suddenly grew brighter. A door slammed. Carole climbed in the back seat and onto the floor. She reached for her .22, pulled it out.

  “Whatcha reckon he needs the Ferrari for this late at night?” asked one of the men.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care so long as I git paid for doing what I’m told and keepin’ my mouth shut. Like not telling his wife he’s headin’ to Rock Bottom for a couple hours. Now open the door and move the crappy car so I can back out the Ferrari.”

  Crappy car? thought Carole. They have some nerve. She scrunched her body against the floor in the back and prayed.

  Carole heard the garage door roll up. Her car door opened, a man got in the driver’s seat, started the car, and backed out. The Ferrari followed.

  “Might as well leave Crappy out, make it easier on us when Ferrari comes back.”

  Yes! Please! thought Carole.

  Minutes later Carole was alone. Outside. In her own car with the keys. A faint sickie-sweet marijuana scent hit her as she crept back in the driver’s seat. She scrunched down and waited until the inside garage lights dimmed, counted to 500, sat up and turned the keys in the ignition.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Wednesday, 11:00 p.m.

  Luke had given up all hope of talking to Carole. He looked at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. In the hope that she’d finally turned on her cell phone, he dialed her number again. No luck. “Where are you, Carole? Where are you?”

  Maybe Aurora had heard from her. He called Aurora’s house and left a message on the answering machine for her to call him no matter what time she got in.

  “Calm down,” he said aloud. “It won’t do you any good to fall apart. Carole’s probably with a client, forgot to turn on her cell. She’s done that lots of times. So have I. Calm down, fix yourself something to eat.” But why would she be with a client this late?

  Hungry, he took a frozen chicken dinner from the freezer, rolled the lid back the proper amount, and stuck it in the microwave. When the timer sounded, he put it on a plate, opened a cold Bud Lite, dropped into his easy chair and turned on the TV to Channel 10.

  The weatherman talked about the drought and how it looked as though there’d be no break anytime soon. The sportscaster discussed Virginia Tech’s chances of beating UVA in the next football game. Luke took his last bite the same time the anchorman interrupted with a late-breaking story.

  All chewing stopped when the announcer said, “We’ve just received word that a search party found and rescued two women from Smith Mountain. We don’t know their condition or how they came to be on the mountain at night, but we do know the identity of one of the women. Her name is Aurora Harris, a resident at Smith Mountain Lake. The identity of the other woman, who is en route to Lynchburg General Hospital, is being held until relatives can be contacted. We don’t know her condition at this time.”

  Luke choked on his food, spit it on his plate. His heart raced as though he were running a marathon. His hand shook.

  “Carole. The other woman must be Carole. Oh, God, help her please.” He dialed Aurora’s house again, left another frantic message.

  He called the emergency room, asked if Carole had been admitted. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give out that information.”

  Luke knew he had to drive to Lynchburg and see for himself. He’d go nuts if he just sat and waited. He grabbed his coat and keys, and hurried to his car. Once again, he forgot his cell phone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Thursday, 1:50 a.m.

  When the emergency medical technician had said she should be checked again at the hospital, Aurora had balked. “I want to go home. I want a hot bath and a good night’s sleep in our bed.”

  Sam had finally convinced her that trudging down a mountain in the dark on a bad ankle would not be wise, even though she didn’t appear to have any serious injuries. After an emergency room examination showed a sprained ankle but no internal injuries or a concussion, the doctor had pronounced her well enough to leave.

  Robert had offered to drive them to the hospital after dropping the boat off at Sam’s house, but Sam had declined the offer. “You need to get ready for Jill,” Sam had said. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll either call a taxi or Uncle Charlie. And I need you to take the dogs. They can’t go to the hospital with us, and Aurora will kill me if we leave them on the mountain.”

  Now they were finally home. Sam paid the cab driver and helped an exhausted Aurora limp from the car and up the front steps.

  “Where’s King?” she asked when Sam opened the door and King didn’t rush to greet her.

  “He and Little Guy are at Robert’s.”

  “Can you go get him now?”

  “Aurora, honey, it’s 2:30 a.m. Robert and the dogs are surely sound asleep. I’ll fetch him first thing in the morning. I promise. Right now I want to get you to bed. Do you need anything to eat first?”

  “No, thanks. I ate enough of the supplies you dragged up the mountain. I would like a bath, though. Well, maybe a quick shower instead.” She limped to the bathroom.

  Sam listened to messages on the answering machine. Three were from Luke, each more frantic than the first. He dialed Luke’s home.

  Luke jerked up the phone on the first ring. “Aurora, where’s Carole?”

  “This is Sam. We just got home. Aurora’s taking a shower and then going straight to bed. She’s had a rough day. What’s up?”

  “I can’t find Carole. She should have called me by 10:00; I haven’t heard from her. I’ve tried her cell and office phones, left messages. I hoped she was with Aurora or had at least told Aurora where she was going.” He told Sam about his frantic trip to Lynchburg General Hospital.

  “We may have passed each other. Aurora’s fine, just a slightly sprained ankle and a few bruises. But we haven’t seen Carole.”

  “I’m really worried about her. Please ask Aurora if she knows anything.”

  “Hold on. I’ll see if she’s still in the shower. She may already be sound asleep by now.”

  “Sam, this is important. If she’s asleep, please wake her.”

  Aurora was brushing her teeth when Sam appeared. “That shower felt so good. See you in the morning.” She put the toothbrush in the holder and started to bed.

  “Not so fast. Luke’s on the phone. He can’t find Carole and he’s worried sick.”

  Aurora grabbed the phone from Sam. “Carole’s not home yet?” she asked. She listened as Luke voiced his concerns.

  “I spoke to her after lunch. She was looking at houses with Win.” Aurora heard Luke groan.

  “Were they in his ca
r or in Carole’s?”

  “Carole’s. She said she’d call me around 7:00, fill me in on how the day went. If she tried to call, I wasn’t here. But she would have left a message when I didn’t answer. I know that she didn’t want to spend any more time with Win than necessary. She was sure he was on the verge of buying a house.” Aurora covered her yawn with a hand. “Wonder why she hasn’t returned any of your calls.”

  “I’m wondering the same thing. My thought is that she’s out of service range.” Or unable to call, he thought. “On my way home from checking at the hospital, I drove by her place to see if maybe her phone was out of order. She wasn’t there, Aurora.” His voice broke.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Early Thursday Morning

  Aurora couldn’t stay in bed a minute longer. Her body craved sleep, but her mind demanded action. She crawled out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on her face, she struggled into her bathrobe and made her way to the kitchen. She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.

  “Why aren’t you in bed?” a sleepy Sam asked. He rubbed his half-shut eyes and focused on the wall clock. “Its 4:00 in the morning, Aurora. You should be in bed. I should be in bed.” He pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and plopped down. “Everybody should be in bed.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’m so worried about Carole.” She put the filter in the coffee pot and measured out the usual number of scoops, then added one more. Today she’d need an extra jolt of caffeine.

  “There’s nothing you can do to help Carole right now. You need some rest. Go back to bed. Luke told you he’d call if he heard from her.”

  “I’ve thought this through, Sam. While lying in bed I mapped out a plan.” Aurora poured the water in the coffee maker and flipped on the switch. “As soon as I get a cup of strong java in me I’ll call Luke and get him to meet me at Carole’s. He has a key; I don’t.”

  She looked at her husband. “You’re dog-tired. You’re the one who should go back to bed. I’ll wake you when I’m ready to leave.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his blonde head.