I tidied up a bit, put on my coat, and stepped out into the frigid night. The cold seemed a little more benign as I pondered what I would pack for my trip to the islands: a few sundresses, flip-flops, and a bathing suit or two. Maybe I’d even splurge on a new set of luggage with the bonus I had received from Janet.
I locked up the office, my mind adrift with visions of beaches and palm trees, when I sensed someone behind me.
I spun around, ready to strike.
“Whoa,” Carter said, jumping back. “It’s me, Sarah.”
“Damn you, Carter, you scared the crap out of me. You almost got a key in your eyeball.”
“Sorry. I just came by to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine,” I said, neglecting the fact he hadn’t called me in over two weeks. “How are you?”
“I’m doing all right. Look, I have another job coming up. Are you interested?”
I stood, arms crossed, in the chilly night air, the snow accumulating on both of us. “I would be,” I said, “but I’m going on vacation in a few days. Next time, maybe?”
Carter smiled. There was something peculiar in his manner I couldn’t quite figure out.
“Sure thing … oh, and have a great time in Hawaii. You deserve it.”
As I stood there watching him walk towards the snow-covered Buick, it occurred to me: I’d never mentioned where I was going.
How did he know?
The end
An Island of Illusions
by
Jennifer L. Jennings
A Sarah Woods Mystery (Book 3)
Chapter 1
Wednesday, April 3
A tsunami warning horn is the last thing you want to hear while lying on a beach. My heart hammered in my chest. I willed my legs to move, but felt as if my ankles were bound by invisible hands.
The second blast seemed louder than the first. My eyes popped open, the taste of saline on my lips. I blinked, looked around, and realized the offending noise was my cell phone’s ring tone.
I’d been dreaming. Where the hell was I? I vaguely recalled the long flight I’d taken, downing one too many glasses of wine with my Valium. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the sheet, reached over toward the nightstand, and seized my phone a few seconds too late.
The I.D. indicated a private number. Probably a telemarketer eager to sell me something I didn’t need.
I looked around as sunshine flooded the room, casting a glow upon unfamiliar wicker furniture. The bed was huge compared to the one I’d shared with my husband for nearly twenty years. Why wasn’t Daniel lying next to me this morning?
My head pounded as it all came flooding back.
We were in Hawaii. I’d fallen asleep right after devouring our late night room service delivery.
The scent of tropical flowers wafted in through an open window. I slowly got out of bed to take a peek outside.
So what if the trip was more of a peace offering than an attempted romantic reconciliation? Daniel and I were a world away from the frozen ground and icy arguments of New Hampshire. Maybe we’d talk and work something out. If not, he’d play golf while I relaxed by the pool with a book. At least there would be quietude for a few days.
I made my way into the living area of our suite. Hands on hips, I scanned the space. A piece of resort stationery fluttered under a pen.
Getting breakfast, Sleepyhead. Back soon.
I turned toward the kitchenette and spotted a coffee maker. A big mug of Kona would do wonders for my aching head. A loud banging broke the silence, causing me to spill grounds all over the counter. The noise intensified. It was then I heard Daniel’s voice.
“Open the door! Sarah?”
He must have forgotten his key card. The man could be so impatient. “Hold on, I’m coming.” I found him bent over, an expression of pain on his face. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Someone spilled milk on the floor and I slipped,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Where did this happen?”
“Damn it, Sarah, can’t you see I’m in agony here?” He pushed his way past me.
I grasped his arm as he hobbled toward the couch. “Sorry. Lie down. Maybe I can figure out what you did to yourself.”
“Slow down. I can’t walk that fast,” he said, swatting my hand away.
“Let me feel your back.” I sat down next to him and delicately traced the outline of his muscles with my fingers.
“Stop. You’re friggin’ killing me,”
“I think it’s a pulled muscle. I’ll get you some Advil.”
“Screw that, I need something stronger. Give me some of your Valium.”
I went for my purse and returned with some water and the meds.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be nasty. But you have no idea how much this hurts.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” I said, stopping short of reminding him I was a massage therapist.
“Well then,” Daniel grunted. “Why can’t you fix this?”
“If it’s a pulled muscle I’ll only make it worse. Rest and keep yourself pumped with meds. I’ll make you an ice pack.”
“This just sucks. How am I going to play golf if I can’t even stand up?”
Within ten minutes, Daniel was snoring away on the couch. He was a contorted mess, thinning brown hair draped over his forehead in wet clumps like a shaggy dog. His blue polo shirt was twisted around his torso, khaki shorts riding low beneath a slightly bloated belly.
I began to feel restless. Would it be wrong to slip out and head to the pool? It was, after all, my vacation, too. I didn’t want to waste it.
I changed into my bathing suit, slipped a sundress over it, and put my hair up in a bun. I packed a small bag: pool towel, sunblock, and my Kindle. I shot Daniel a glance on my way past and shut the door behind me as quietly as I could.
Chapter 2
I was delighted to find the pool area deserted. Small talk with strangers was definitely not on my agenda this morning. I claimed a lounge chair close to the pool, spread out my towel, and doused my white skin with sunblock. The only other guest in sight was leaning against the tiki bar about ten feet away. He held a clear plastic cup filled with a creamy concoction that looked like a pina colada, complete with tacky paper umbrella. His lime green swim trunks clashed with a Hawaiian shirt sporting bright orange flowers. A wide rim safari hat with dark sunglasses swallowed up his whole head. I blinked a few times, looked away, and tried not to laugh. Only in the tropics could someone get away with that dapper ensemble.
I kicked back and flipped through a pamphlet I’d picked up from the lobby. Our hotel, the Makahi Resort and Spa, touted itself as the gem of West Oahu; located on the leeward side, the spa’s claim to fame included having the best weather on the island and the serenity of being far removed from tourist traffic.
I set the brochure down and closed my eyes. The heat of the sun on my pale skin was so delightful I almost forgot about poor Daniel. A small part of me felt guilty for leaving him up in the room, but it wasn’t enough to change my mind.
My solace was interrupted by a loud slurping sound. I turned to find the man from the bar settling into the lounge chair next to mine.
Great. Of all the empty chairs at the pool, he had to pick that one. Time to feign sleep.
The slurping continued. Annoyed, I opened my eyes and turned to look at him again. Was he trying desperately to suck every last drop of liquid from his cup? He stuck his tongue inside to lick the rim then had the audacity to look at me and smile. I shook my head and was about to lie back down when it occurred to me there was something oddly familiar about him.
And then he spoke. “Hello, Sarah.”
Now he had my full attention. When he took off his hat and sunglasses I nearly had a stroke. “What the hell?”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Carter laughed. “You‘re wildly impressed with my clever disguise, right?”
“I … what … what are you doing here?�
�
“You mean other than drinking rum for breakfast?”
“This is unbelievable.” I looked around the pool area. “What’s going on, Carter?” His wavy grey hair was matted down from the hat.
“I need you,” he said.
“That’s hardly an explanation.”
“I’m helping a buddy of mine with a child abduction case. The kidnapper is hiding out here on Oahu.”
Suddenly, it hit me. “Carter, are you saying you orchestrated this whole trip? Is this case the real reason Daniel and I are here?”
He brought his palms up in a defensive manner. “I know it’s a little over the top, but I couldn’t come up with anything better.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. ”How did you get Daniel to go for it?”
He settled back in the lounge chair and rubbed his chin. “Promise you won’t get pissed?”
“I’m not promising a damn thing!”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I sent your husband an e-mail from a phony travel agency. It offered a seven day trip for two to Hawaii at a deeply discounted rate, not to mention free golf passes.”
No wonder Daniel had jumped all over it. “What’s so important that you needed me to be here?”
He leaned in a little closer, lowered his voice and said, “The new client is loaded.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going when we were back home?”
Carter laughed. “Your husband would never have let you come to Hawaii by yourself. And since you refuse to tell him you’re working for me---”
“Whatever,” I said. “I can’t believe you were able to get us out here?”
“You’re not the only one I flew out here. I have a team, and we’re all staying at this resort.”
After a few moments something occurred to me. “Did you stage Daniel’s little accident this morning?”
“What accident?” Carter’s expression looked genuine, but I had to remind myself that he was a master of trickery.
“He slipped and pulled a muscle. He’s totally out of commission. Was that you?”
He placed a hand over his chest. “I may do a lot of things, Sarah, but intentionally hurting people is not one of them.”
“Oh, so you unintentionally spilled a kid’s drink so he’d fall and hurt himself.” Judging by the look on his face, you’d have thought I’d stabbed a sharpened pencil between his ribs.
“Do you really think I’d do that?”
I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him.
“Look,” Carter said. “He was supposed to be playing golf every day. It was the only reason he booked the trip to begin with.”
“Of course.” I didn’t try to hide my disappointment. “I see. The joke’s on me, isn’t it?”
Carter pushed himself up from the lounge and hovered over me. For a guy in his early fifties, he had a strong, slim physique. He extended his hand to help me up. “Let’s go.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. It’s a five-minute drive to Doctor Sanborn’s house. I’ll explain everything on the way.”
“I’m hardly dressed for the occasion. Look at my hair.”
Carter handed me his floppy sun hat. “Here, wear this. It’s totally you.”
Chapter 3
“This is an interesting alternative to the rusty brown Buick you drive back home. A Kia SUV? Isn’t it a bit feminine for your taste?”
“There’s a method to my madness.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m all ears.”
Carter reached around to the back seat, withdrew a file from his weathered briefcase, and plopped it in my lap. “Here’s the case file.”
Inside I found several 8x10 photographs, police reports, and some handwritten notes. One of the photos showed a young couple holding an infant. “Who are these people?”
“Jessica Sanborn, her boyfriend Duane Cunningham, and their son, Toby.”
The young woman in the photo looked like a Chanel model. Her light brown hair was swept up into a French twist, her makeup flawless. Striking blue eyes seduced the camera as she flashed a winning smile. The boyfriend was not as polished, yet handsome, with blonde hair, a scruffy chin, and eyebrows that could’ve used a little tweezing. He was smiling at the baby in his lap. The little boy looked to be only a few months old, but was dressed in a smart-looking Ralph Lauren pinstriped suit with matching cap.
“Duane and Jessica met the summer they graduated from high school. She comes from a wealthy family, graduated valedictorian, and is studying to become a doctor. Duane, on the other hand, was an orphan, almost flunked out of school, and never got along with his foster parents. The two of them fell in love. Three months later Jessica was pregnant. Her father was very upset. He had big plans for his daughter’s education. She had a full scholarship to BU.” Carter pointed to a newspaper clipping in the file. “That’s her father, Doctor Theodore Sanborn, a highly esteemed heart surgeon from Boston.”
I scrutinized the photo. He looked to be in his early fifties, with a full head of silver hair.
“I’m sure he thought his daughter could do better than Cunningham,” Carter said.
“Why didn’t she get an abortion?”
“Not an option. Doctor Theo is a staunch pro-life advocate, a deacon at his church, and a highly respected surgeon. What else could he do but encourage his daughter to have the baby?”
“A baby at eighteen? I was still pulling all-nighters with my college roommates at that age,” I said. “What about adoption?”
“That was originally their plan, but Cunningham talked her into keeping the kid then asked her to marry him.”
“Sounds like they had things figured out,” I said.
“Well, come to find out, their baby had some health problems.”
“What was wrong with him?”
“The tests were inconclusive. It was a stressful time for them. They’d just moved into an apartment in Boston. The doctor got them a full-time nanny so Jessica could start her pre-med classes at BU. Duane ended up lounging around, mooching off the family teat. One night, Jessica returned home from school to find that Duane had abducted Toby.”
“The guy abducted his own child?”
“Not only that, he sent a letter asking for a huge ransom.”
“What a bastard! Did they pay it?”
“Of course, but get this. He never returned the kid.”
“And the cops had no luck tracking him down.”
“A million bucks can get you some pretty decent fake documents. He could easily have high-tailed it to Mexico then jumped a flight to any other country. After a few weeks, the police ran out of ideas and the investigation fizzled.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “He got his money, so why not return the kid?”
“No one knows. That’s why the Sanborn’s didn’t give up once the police ran out of ideas. They hired my buddy Richard Kimball. He’s a private investigator, too. He worked the case for several months, but never got any closer than the cops did. All the leads he followed turned out to be bogus. Richard took it hard. He’d become invested in the case and considered it a personal failure. When the Sanborn’s let him go he decided to get out of the P.I. business. He moved to Los Angeles and started a small consulting company. Two weeks ago, Richard was at LAX, headed to Seattle for a business meeting. On his way through the airport he got quite a surprise.”
“Don’t tell me. He saw Duane Cunningham, right?”
Carter smiled. “He couldn’t be sure, but wasn’t taking any chances. He followed him through the airport and saw him board a plane to Honolulu. But Cunningham was traveling alone. No sign of Toby.”
“What did Richard do?”
“Well, you don’t know Richard, but the guy’s a bloodhound through and through. He jumped the next flight to Honolulu.” Carter chuckled as he took a left hand turn down a residential road. “Poor guy was so distracted he forgot to call his wife.”
“Does Richard know where Cunningham is now?
”
“Cunningham is living here on Oahu under the alias of Eric Fisher. As soon as Richard found out he called Doctor Sanborn. They immediately hired him back.”
“So Richard knows where Cunningham lives?”
“Yup. After two weeks he finally found him.” Carter let out a sigh. “Still no sign of the kid, though. But check this out.” Carter reached inside the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and pulled out a photo. “They call it age progression technology. It’s been eight months since he was last seen. This computer generated photo gives us an idea of what Toby might look like now.”
“If Richard knows where Cunningham lives, why doesn’t he just have him arrested?”
“Won’t do much good unless we know for sure he has Toby. We need to get into his house and see what we can dig up.”
“Why doesn’t Richard just confront him face to face?”
“Too risky.”
“And breaking into his house isn’t?”
“Not if you have a solid plan.”
“Does he know why Cunningham came to Hawaii to begin with?”
“Not yet. So far it looks like he spends his days lounging around his pool. Yesterday he played golf, but quit early. Richard said he was driving the ball everywhere but onto the fairway. Other than being a duffer, he seems to keep a low profile.”
“So what do you need me to do?”
“You’re scheduled to go to his house tomorrow to give him a massage.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“It’s already a done deal. I made up a mock flyer offering free promotional massages. He called the number and booked an appointment. Who can pass up a free back rub?”
All I could do was shake my head.
“The appointment is for ten tomorrow morning. You’ll be driving this car to Cunningham’s place. We’ll discuss the details later on.”
“Your confidence is astounding,” I said. “So who’s going to hack his computer and set up surveillance while I’m giving him the massage?”
Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set Page 22