Unintended Detour: A Christian Suspense Novel (The Unintended Series Book 3)

by D. L. Wood

  She was aware from their tour with Martin the day before that one could access the rear property from the back of the house but, certain she would get lost trying to find the right door or end up in the kitchen by mistake, she decided to go around the outside of the mansion instead.

  It was still dark outside, though dawn had begun peeking out from behind the night, faint orange and pinks shyly emerging in the sky. Fresh snow had fallen, leaving an undisturbed layer of powdered white on the grounds. It wasn’t particularly thick, maybe two or three inches at most, but Chloe still hated marring the beauty of the wintry landscape. There was something so peaceful and otherworldly about walking in the snow, out in the countryside with the grand mansion of limestone and turrets towering about her. Aged ivy made its way up some of the walls, and gargoyles were posted atop some of the outcroppings, keeping watch. Stone truly had used the Biltmore as his inspiration. She knew the same creatures were perched atop the North Carolina mansion as well. She smiled as she looked at them, wishing she’d brought her DSLR camera and her zoom lens. She wouldn’t forget next time.

  She came to the outbuilding where Nate Lewis had been found. It was still surrounded by yellow Do-Not-Cross tape tied to stakes driven into the ground in a wide circle around the outbuilding’s perimeter. The snow wasn’t as smooth here, since the previous snow had been stomped down where the investigators and their team members had walked, leaving divots only partially filled by the overnight flurries. Lewis’s body had been removed the day before. She wondered what more of the building remained to be examined before the site would be released. Her heart stung again for Lewis’s family, and she offered up another prayer for their comfort and peace.

  Once she cleared the side of the mansion, the rear of the Stonehall Estate property opened up before her. To her right, a narrow gravel drive led down into a recessed courtyard dug into the ground. From the tour, she knew it terminated in a small parking lot next to the basement entrance. Martin had told them it was the very door Will Rader escaped through. A brick wall surrounded the courtyard, preventing those outside it from seeing in. Groupings of boxwoods with concrete benches in between lined the wall’s outer perimeter.

  She turned toward the Hudson and the wide expanse of grounds leading to it. Immediately facing her was the rose garden, a half-acre of prized and rare specimens all presently dormant but assuredly gorgeous during the spring and summer months. They were planted in groupings in a line that equaled the width of the mansion. Although the ground cover was presently hidden beneath the snow, a few kicks revealed that the same brown gravel that filled the drive also comprised the paths among the gardens. Chloe took her time strolling through the area, imagining the rainbows of color that would explode in May, though today the bushes reminded her of the thorny thickets surrounding Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

  After exiting the back of the garden, she came to the focal point of the rear property—the maze. It had been designed by Harold Stone himself, twenty-five yards square with a narrow entrance at the middle of each side. Rather than beginning with cheaper, smaller bushes that would grow into thick hedges, he began in 1925 with hundreds of tall boxwoods planted so close together that by 1930, they had completely filled in, closing even the slightest of gaps between them except for the four entrances. Because they were evergreen, the maze existed year-round and offered interest even during the winter. Martin had taken them through the maze, guiding them to the small garden at the center with its miniature reflective pool and fountain.

  This morning she skirted the maze, walking along the outside of the hedge down to the southeast corner, headed to the pergola. It sat about ten yards from the maze’s corner, blocked from the direct view of the mansion by a semi-circle of tall fir trees at its back. Sipping her coffee, she tracked through the snow in a straight line to it. Whether or not she was on an actual path she had no idea, as it wasn’t marked by any bushes or greenery, and any gravel or stone path that existed was well covered by snow.

  The base of the pergola consisted of three sets of steps encircling the entire structure, leading to a platform raised about a yard off the ground. The whole thing gave the impression of a squat, four-tiered wedding cake. Six marble columns rose from the platform. Vines of ivy and roses, with a variety of figures among them, were carved into the columns. The top of each ended in a circular cap that anchored a scrolled, wrought-iron piece that looped up to meet in the middle, where they were forged together with a pair of sculptured iron doves nested at the juncture. Weather-worn brass plaques engraved with Greek wording adorned the bases.

  It screamed upper-class and luxury, which was precisely what she imagined Harold Stone had been going for. Chloe brushed a bit of snow from the steps, revealing white limestone. After traveling up the steps to the platform, she brushed aside more powder, revealing veined marble of a pinkish hue. She turned toward the river and from where she stood, she could see past where the land sloped downward, getting a full view of the icy Hudson. There were no vessels on the water now, just choppy waves, breaking white from the blasts of wind speeding through the channel. She watched for a while, letting the calm and quiet wash over her, settling her mind and her heart. Then the orange sun crested the eastern horizon, sending brilliant streaks against the clouds like ripples from a stone cast in water.

  She raised her cup, drained the dregs, and checked her phone.

  Seven twenty. She had waited long enough. Surely by now Deidre would be up and around, and at the very least Chloe could make a call to the police. The sooner she handled this, the better, given her busy day ahead. She left the pergola, planning to make the call from the warmth of the foyer when a flash of white darted from the maze’s front entrance to her left. Squinting for a better look, Chloe made out a tiny form and long, dark blonde hair flying out from beneath a white woolen cap.

  Could that be Molly Prater? What is she doing out this early?

  “Molly? Molly!”

  Whether she heard Chloe or not, the girl kept running. Chloe took off after her, still calling out but getting no response, surprised at how fast those little six-year-old legs could run. Eventually, Chloe’s longer ones won out, and she clasped the girl’s shoulder as gently as she could.

  “Molly?” Chloe asked, spinning her around. The girl’s big eyes stared up at her, clouded with worry. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!”

  “Please don’t tell.” Molly’s lip trembled slightly, and Chloe’s heart broke. She knelt down so they were eye to eye.

  “Do your parents know you’re not at home? They’ll be worried sick.”

  “You can’t tell them you saw me. Please. I’ll get in trouble.” Molly’s fingers fidgeted, twisting the fabric of the gloves she wore.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not supposed to be seen on the property. It was part of the deal. So Daddy and Mommy could work here.”

  Disdain sparked in Chloe’s chest. She didn’t like that particular rule or see the need for it. If that was something her father-in-law had insisted on, she would be truly disappointed.

  I’ll talk to him about it. It was possible someone had imposed the condition without his knowledge.

  “Well, I’m the only one who saw you, and I don’t mind at all,” Chloe assured her, conjuring a warm smile.

  Molly’s face softened, though her eyes still brimmed with worry. “And you won’t tell?”

  Conflict roiled inside Chloe. She didn’t want to get the girl in trouble, but at the same time, a six-year-old shouldn’t be out in this weather at this time of day without her parents knowing.

  “Can you at least tell me what you’re doing out here?”

  Molly bit her lip as several seconds passed. She eyed Chloe’s gloved hand, still on her shoulder.

  “Lily’s treasure.”

  “What?” Chloe asked.

  “I’m looking for Lily’s treasure,” Molly mumbled.

  Understanding flooded Chloe. “You’re looking for the jewelry? The jewelry taken
the night of the robbery?”

  Molly nodded. “Lily never got her things back.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I’m trying to help by finding it.”

  “You know, honey, I’m pretty sure people have been looking for that for a long time. I’m not sure it’s here to be found.”

  “It might be. It’s a treasure and it might be.” The girl’s eyes were so hopeful, Chloe didn’t have the heart to cast any more shade on her optimism. After all, at that age, what an adventure it would have been living at a place like this, with legends underfoot and the possibility of finding treasure. Who was she to dash that?

  “You know what? You’re right. It just might be. But I don’t think you should be out looking for it at seven in the morning in the freezing cold. How long have you been out here?”

  Molly ignored the question. “Once the guests start arriving, we won’t be able to look for it much at all.”

  We?

  “You mean Ben looks for it too?” Chloe asked.

  She nodded vigorously. “But you can’t tell Mommy and Daddy that you saw me, okay? I don’t want them to get into trouble. They’re at the stable, so they don’t have to know if I just sneak back in the cottage.”

  It wasn’t something Chloe could promise the little girl. Her parents needed to know what she was up to. These kids were only six, after all. If the Praters were leaving them in the cottage, expecting them to stay put, that wasn’t happening. “How about this? Why don’t we just head back to your cottage now, and I’ll make sure you get back inside all right. But I’ll have to actually see you go in, okay?”

  The suggestions seemed to satisfy Molly, who nodded and took off running toward the north side of the property where the stable and cottage lay beyond. Chloe kept pace, half-jogging while keeping Molly in sight. When she cleared the corner of the mansion, she could see the stable and, slightly further back in the woods, a two-story cottage made of wood slats and a high-pitched roof with a chimney puffing out thick gray smoke. Molly disappeared around the back side, and Chloe picked up speed. She found Molly standing at the back door, waving Chloe closer.

  “Come on,” Molly urged in hushed tones when Chloe finally reached the back porch. She pushed open the unlocked door, reached for Chloe’s hand, and pulled her inside. The interior was rustic with large wood-framed furniture and lots of reds and browns in the decor. Cozy, inviting blankets were thrown over the side chairs and the couch. A bowl of pinecones sat on the coffee table, and thick woven rugs covered dark-stained wooden-plank flooring.

  All this, however, was overshadowed by the clutter. It was everywhere. Papers and toys, shoes and coats, gloves and endless knick-knacks and junk. The end tables held a variety of who-knew-what, everything from hair clips to business cards. There were peppermints—likely from the stash in the resort lobby—and little items she suspected the children might have pilfered from the mansion as well, including an engraved coaster, a maid’s cap, one of the gloves the footman wore—

  “Mommy says I’m supposed to do a better job of cleaning up. I haven’t done it yet, though.” Molly kicked the toe of her shoe on the floor, her head down.

  “It’s good to help out,” Chloe said. As a young child, before being taken from her alcoholic mother, she had done quite a bit of cleaning herself. And this place needed a heavy-duty one. Bowls of half-eaten cereal, macaroni and cheese, and other dishes with unidentifiable residue were scattered about. Bits of dirt, withered grass and hay from the stalls clung to the rugs. The place was a wreck.

  “Yeah, she’s always busy with the horses. And Daddy’s busy at the big house. Cleaning is my job at least until the hotel is up and running.”

  She said the last bit as if she’d heard it from her parents many times.

  “Well, I’m sure if you started in on it, she’d be surprised and pleased when she got home,” Chloe said and Molly nodded. Chloe considered offering to help, but was worried she might be overstepping. She opted to leave it alone for now.

  With Molly safe in the cottage, Chloe felt comfortable going. She waved goodbye as she trekked through the snow back toward the mansion, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had to do. Molly wouldn’t like it, but Chloe had to tell her parents what had happened. From the sound of it, this wasn’t the first time Molly—and likely Ben—had sneaked out to hunt for a ghost’s long-lost treasure. Not that she blamed them, but it wasn’t safe.

  I’ll have to come up with some way to let them know so that Molly doesn’t feel betrayed.

  The girl was so sweet, with her pink cheeks and high-pitched voice. Chloe hadn’t promised she wouldn’t say anything, but she was fairly certain Molly wouldn’t remember it that way. The thought of the girl believing Chloe had lied cut her to the quick. But the children couldn’t be allowed to run around at all hours unsupervised. Aside from the cold, there were other things that could go wrong.

  Dread swamped Chloe. Like accidentally stumbling onto the dead body of Nate Lewis. Or worse, accidentally stumbling onto a murderer? What if they had been going out at night? They could have accidentally stumbled onto the act in progress.

  After all, she herself had accidentally seen something that might be related.

  More than ever, Chloe felt an urgency to report the light she had witnessed. With her empty cup in hand, she walked faster toward the mansion’s entrance, intending to make the phone call as soon as got inside.

  But when she rounded the corner, and the front parking lot came into view, she realized that calling the police was no longer necessary.

  13

  A sheriff’s deputy patrol car sat in the parking lot and beside it, a black Tesla.

  Tromping up the front steps, Chloe tugged hard on one of the mansion’s heavy front doors and stepped through. Immediately, the warmth of the crackling fire in the double-sized hearth and the angry diatribe of a thin man in an expensive suit and wool coat engulfed her. Deidre, Deputy Collier, and the man stood at the front desk having a heated exchange that looked like a repeat of the one with Nate Lewis that Chloe had witnessed on the day she and Jack arrived.

  “I am sick and tired of this,” the man was shouting. “I have endured nothing but harassment from this establishment since the moment construction began. It’s not my fault if Bartholomew doesn’t know how to run a project.”

  Chloe quietly walked toward the coffee station on the opposite side of the foyer and filled her cup. Then she turned slightly as she stirred her newly poured brew so she could see what was happening. The man’s face was as red as the Christmas ribbon hung throughout the room, the color reaching all the way to his thinning scalp. She was surprised the heat from his face wasn’t fogging up his circular, wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Please, Mr. Kingsford, if you’ll just step this way into my office,” Deidre said, gesturing to a door behind the desk, “I’m sure we can work this out.”

  So, that’s the infamous contractor across the river.

  “I don’t know, deputy, do you think we can work this out?” Mr. Kingsford bellowed sarcastically, holding his ground. “Because I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to fix the fact that yesterday I was dragged off my site to go to the sheriff’s department to give not one, but two interviews—one to the sheriff and another to the state police. After three hours, they finally let me go because there’s nothing linking me to any of this nonsense and certainly not to the death of Nate Lewis.

  “I hated the man and he hated me, but killing him wouldn’t have helped my situation. So I want your”—Kingsford stabbed a bony finger in Deidre’s face—“promise that this is the last I’m going to hear of any of this. My lawyers are already involved, and if there’s one more accusation, if you even accuse me of parking in the wrong spot, we will rain down a lawsuit on Bartholomew Hotels that’ll shut down this place and every other hotel it owns. You got me?”

  Deputy Collier placed a hand on Mr. Kingsford. “All right, why don’t you just back up. This isn’t helping.”

/>   Kingsford shook him off.

  Chloe wasn’t sure why the deputy was there or whether it was just a coincidence, but clearly his presence and admonition weren’t curbing Kingsford’s tirade. The man was leaning his weight forward like a dog held back by a chain, ready to launch if his handler would just let go. It was intimidating, and even Chloe, a good twenty feet away and not even on the man’s radar, felt his ire searing the air around her.

  She had to hand it to Deidre. The woman didn’t flinch, step back, or do anything that might be construed as wilting under Kingsford’s imposing presence. Nor did she stiffen or show any sign of anger. Instead she maintained a relaxed stance and calmly replied, “There’s no need for threats, Mr. Kingsford. We’re allowing the Dutchess County Sheriff’s Department and the New York State Police to do their jobs and conduct their investigation into Mr. Lewis’s death as they see fit. If they believe that necessitates a conversation with you, there isn’t anything we can do about it. I’m sure you’re as anxious as we are to discover what caused Mr. Lewis’s death—”

  “Probably the idiot himself,” he said, loathing dripping from his words. “Probably went wandering around in the dark, tripped, and whacked his head.”

  This must have been too much for Deidre, because she rose to her full height, her shoulders rolling back as her expression hardened. “Mr. Lewis was a valued employee, Mr. Kingsford, and a well-liked man. He and his family deserve our respect and sympathies, and as it is obvious you can offer neither, I’m asking you to leave and not come back. You are no longer welcome on this private property. Your egregious behavior is disturbing our guests.” She nodded toward Chloe.