“Lily?” Bailey pitched her voice soft and low so she didn’t scare her. “Can I help you?” Lily’s blue eyes reminded her of someone, but this late at night she couldn’t think who it was.
Lily whirled to face her. Her eyes were wide with terror, but they held more awareness than when Bailey had first met her. Her fingers laced together in front of her, she backed away.
Bailey stepped forward and touched her on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just me, Bailey. I live here, remember?”
Lily brushed Bailey’s cheek with dry, wrinkled fingers. “I always knew you’d come back, Liv.”
Who did Lily think she was? A daughter maybe? “Let me throw a quilt around you. You’re cold.”
Poor lady needed more help than she was getting.
Wrapping paper lay strewn like confetti around the living room. Sandy had whisked a tired Milo off to bed as soon as the grandparents left, and Lance sat at the kitchen table with Daniel sipping a cup of coffee and eating handfuls of peanut M&Ms. He already had a sugar overload from the cake and ice cream, but the things were as addictive as crack cocaine.
He took a swig of already-lukewarm coffee. “Okay, tell me about Bailey and Baker Holdings.”
Daniel shrugged. “The property was transferred out of Baker Holdings and into her name about two weeks ago.”
“Is she on the board? Maybe she transferred it herself.”
Daniel reached for a handful of candy and shook his head. “Not on the list.”
“Who is on the list? Anyone we know?”
“You might say that. Alfred Jackson for one.”
“Our Alfie?”
“It’s possible it’s a different Alfred Jackson, but it’s enough to make me raise my eyebrows.”
Lance crunched up an M&M. “Do we know who ordered the property moved into her name?”
“No, it was handled in Panama. Anyone on the board could have done it. There are six board members, but Jackson was the only familiar name.”
Lance tried to imagine the young woman as part of a trafficking ring, and it didn’t compute with the vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes. “I think maybe she’s a patsy. She seemed scared when she answered the door. I got the distinct impression she’s on the run.”
“Maybe, but you have to admit it’s suspicious. She shows up here out of the blue with the property in her name. Maybe she’s here to run a brothel out of the cabin. Maybe she is one of Jackson’s minions and will be managing where the girls go once they’re brought in. Could be anything.”
“Could be. Or maybe she really is an innocent.”
“Then why’d Baker put the property in her name? There had to be a reason.”
Lance had no answer for that question. Something about the green-eyed, purple-haired beauty had tugged at his heartstrings, and he wasn’t easily moved by a pretty face. What was with the hair? She hadn’t seemed the type to dye it an outlandish color, though he had to admit it looked good on her. She’d be a knockout even if she were bald.
“What?” Daniel asked. “You’ve got a goofy expression on your face.”
“Just thinking about how she acquired that house. She lied to me, too, said she was just staying there for a while. That makes another mark in the suspicious column. Plus she was quick to say she’d pay me to check out the electrical. If she’s only renting, why would she put money in the house? You mentioned a sheriff in Michigan is looking for her about a shooting. Did you talk to him yet?”
“Left a message for Sheriff Kaleva, but he hasn’t called me back yet.”
Lance’s thoughts drifted to his sister again. “Any update from our haul in Seattle last week?”
“I was there when Sarah’s parents came to get her. I nearly cried myself. It was pretty emotional. Makes what we do worth all the headaches. Well, partly at least.”
“I’d like to have seen that.”
He sometimes daydreamed about what his family would be like if Ava came home. His parents weren’t likely to get back together, but it made for a pleasant dream. The likelier scenario was that Ava had moved on to a new life with that jerk she met.
Though he often tried to tell himself she wasn’t lost in the trafficking underworld but had a happy home, deep down he knew better. Even if Ava had been furious with their parents, she never held a grudge long. And the two of them had been tight. If she could, she would have contacted him long before now. She was either dead or imprisoned in a living hell. Either way, he wasn’t sure he could live without someday knowing. But how did he get to the truth?
He finished off the bowl of M&Ms and rose. “I’d better get some sleep. I have a cabin to repair.”
“Good job on getting that in with her. You need me to hang around and keep an eye out?”
Lance shook his head. “See what else you can dig up on Bailey Fleming. Baker Holdings too. If we can uncover the connection between her and the holding company, we might be able to figure this out.”
“If you can, take a stroll around the property and see if there’s any sign they’ve moved girls through there recently. It’s a perfect landing spot with the seclusion and that pier.”
“I plan to. Let me know if you find out anything important.”
Daniel walked him out, and Lance zipped his coat against the wind. November weather could be anything in the Olympic rain shadow. They could get an early snow or the temperature could hit sixty. One thing you could count on was the wind, and it howled down the mountain slopes to lift his hair and chill his ears as he walked to his SUV.
He slung himself behind the wheel and started the engine, then cranked the radio up to let Garth Brooks belt out “The Dance” and tried to ignore the blur of moisture in his eyes.
Chapter 8
Lily stroked the quilt around her shoulders. “This is my favorite one. I made it when I was twenty.”
“Did you used to live here, Lily?” Bailey guessed the cabin had been built in the fifties or sixties, but she could be wrong.
“Oh no, this was Liv’s house.” Lily’s rheumy blue eyes stared off into the distance. “I made the quilt for her when she graduated from high school. My father built this cabin the year I was born—1936 it was. He used trees from this property and fitted every log into the place. I used to know every nook and cranny of it, and I had so many hiding places.” Her giggle was that of a young girl’s.
Hiding places.
Bailey touched Lily’s wrinkled hand. “Could you show me some of the hiding places?”
“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.” Clutching the quilt around her neck, she rose and went to the ladder leading to the loft.
Bailey sprang forward. “Let me take you home.”
“I am home. My bed is up there.” She pointed to the loft.
Bailey hadn’t been up there. The space might be inhabited by birds and mice, and she didn’t trust the old woman not to fall and break her neck. “You live down the road now.” She took her arm and tried to steer her toward the door, but Lily jerked away.
“I live here!” Her eyes were getting more confused by the moment, and her hands fluttered in agitation.
Bailey gave up the fight. “How about you sleep in the big bed?”
Lily’s grin of childish delight beamed. “I get to sleep with Mama? I can only do that when Papa is gone.”
“He’s not here right now.” Bailey led her to the bedroom and pulled back the thick layer of quilts. “Let’s get you all tucked in.” She pulled the covers up around Lily’s neck and stepped back.
Almost instantly, the woman’s thin lids lowered, and her mouth opened in a slight snore. Bailey tiptoed out and grabbed a quilt from the hall closet before making her way to the sofa. She stretched out on it with her head propped on the arm and tried to close her eyes, but her thoughts kept whirling around. Could there be secrets in this house, secrets that would lead her to the killer?
She wanted to believe it, but it might be hope talking and not reality. Tomorrow Lily might be clearer he
aded—or she might be worse. Bailey had taken care of enough people with dementia to know the clouds swept in when they wanted and departed when you didn’t expect. She’d have to be alert for times when she might ask questions and get lucid answers.
The glowing logs shifted in the fireplace and settled with a soft thunk. She slid her gaze to the ladder to the loft. What was up there? The impulse to find out brought her off the sofa. Flashlight in hand, she climbed the steps to the eaves and ducked under the wooden beams. The light’s glow illuminated the hump of a large trunk, several armoires, and a space crammed tight with boxes. A tiny cot nestled beneath a beam, and it bowed under the weight of the boxes stacked on it.
It would take forever to go through all this stuff, but she itched to know what the boxes held, especially the trunk. She moved to it and flipped the latch on the lid. A squeak came from inside, and she snatched her hand back. On second thought, this would have to wait for morning. She didn’t like mice, and the thought of coming face-to-face with a nest of mice or rats made her gulp.
Her head barely cleared the rafters and ceiling up here. Stooping over, she swept her beam around the space one more time, then descended the ladder.
Tomorrow the neighbor would return. He seemed a nice enough guy, the tall, dark, and handsome type, but his eyes had been serious behind his smile. She didn’t know what that meant. Was he suspicious about what she was doing here? Did he know her mother or how this place came to be in Bailey’s possession? She hoped to find out.
Settling back onto the sofa, she tried to close her eyes, but a light bobbed outside the window and she bolted upright. Though it was probably Jermaine, she got up and crept to the window. It looked like someone holding a lantern or a flashlight in the woods. Two other figures followed the first one, and the trio vanished into the shadows.
Hunters . . . or something more?
The ceilings soared to eighteen feet in the cavernous room floored with pink marble. Red silk draped the walls, and the golden glow of lanterns spaced around the perimeter illuminated the dancers dressed in lavish Khmer costumes, complete with the elaborate headdresses of the Apsara dancers. King sat in the middle of the front row with five clients on each side of him. For some of them, this would be the first time they saw his dancers.
The traditional Apsaras were female spirits of the wind and clouds in Hindu and Buddhist cultures, and he’d fallen in love with them the first time he’d stepped foot in Siem Reap, Cambodia, at the ancient temples of Angkor Wat. He’d spent hours at the bas-relief engravings and even more hours watching the Apsara dancers in town. Mythology said they seduced god and man and that they could change their shape at will. They ruled over the fortunes of gambling, and he’d instantly decided they would form the basis of his entire empire. His pleasure houses would be unique because of the Apsaras. He maintained ten of the most beautiful, most accomplished girls in his “court.” And only the richest men were allowed access to them.
The fluid movements of the dance melded perfectly with the musicians playing traditional Cambodian instruments: the sampho, which was a type of drum played by hand, finger cymbals, a xylophone with bamboo keys, and gongs.
His other houses held Apsaras he’d deemed less perfect, less beautiful than these ten.
His gaze stayed fixed on Lotus. He’d wanted to call his Apsaras by their traditional Hindu names, but clients had asked for something easier to pronounce than names like Rambha and Urvashi, and he’d begun to call them by flower names. Lotus was always his best dancer and most beautiful girl. An hour with her cost ten thousand dollars, and an entire night would set the buyer back a hundred thousand dollars. One look at her usually had the man asking for an entire night.
His current Lotus had held the position for four years, and he saw no evidence that she was losing her extraordinary beauty. He made sure she didn’t work more than once a week, just to sustain her value.
Her glossy black hair under the three-point crown was perfection, and the smooth caramel of her skin invited a man to touch her. She had been a lucky acquisition several years ago. He’d spied her when she was sixteen and had authorized one of his minions to lure her in. It had taken a year to break her and train her. Even now, he often caught a rebellious expression in those beautiful dark eyes, but she’d never voiced her displeasure. She’d learned wiser ways.
The Apsaras’ movements were meant to be hypnotic, and it was hard for anyone to look away. He was particularly fond of the flexed foot and graceful hand gestures.
The dance ended, and three men bid on Lotus. He ended up selling her for a quarter of a million dollars for the night. All his clients knew they weren’t allowed to hit or abuse his girls in any way, but he didn’t like the look in the eye of one of the men and had him discreetly removed and drugged so he wouldn’t remember this place.
Lotus locked gazes with him, and a plea sparkled in her eyes that he had to ignore. He’d do most anything for her except refuse that kind of money. She was his cash cow, and he’d do whatever it took to milk her for the most money possible.
Chapter 9
Shauna knew the Whitewell mansion nearly as well as she knew her own. She parked in the big circle drive and got out when Taylor didn’t come bouncing out the door. Shauna had babysat for Taylor when she was little, and now Taylor was old enough to watch Alex. Full circle.
She rang the bell, and the housekeeper answered the door with a welcoming smile. In her fifties, Rafaela had only a little gray in her black hair, and her brown eyes were as lively as ever. “Señora, you look lovely this morning, bright and happy. Marriage agrees with you, sí.”
“Thank you, Rafaela, I couldn’t be happier.” Shauna stepped into the massive marble foyer with its soaring ceilings and great light. “I’m here to pick up Taylor.”
“Sí, I know this. The chiquita is not quite ready. The hair must be perfect.” She shook her head and smiled.
Rafaela Fletcher had worked for the Whitewells for as long as Shauna could remember. She’d started as a young woman when her husband took over managing the large, elaborate grounds, and she had kept everything operating like clockwork in the house. With the help of two part-time women, she did all of the cleaning and most of the cooking.
At the clatter of heels on the marble floors, Shauna greeted Gina Whitewell with a smile. Her dark hair was perfectly styled in a sleek bob that grazed her chin and accented her high cheekbones. She wore slim-fitting jeans and a V-neck sweater that accented curves that had grown more pronounced over the years. In spite of a few pounds, she was still beautiful and turned plenty of heads in her forties.
She held out her arms. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Hawaii must have been amazing. We went there on our honeymoon, and I used to nag Harry to go back. I might just have to go by myself since he works so much.”
Shauna embraced her and inhaled the scent of her Joy perfume, a fragrance she’d worn forever. “Thanks for loaning me Taylor today. Marilyn has to go to Seattle, and I have some appointments about the airport expansion. I should have her back home by midafternoon.”
“She’s looking forward to it. She adores Alex. And you. We might have a budding helicopter pilot on our hands.” Gina gazed past Shauna to the sweeping staircase. “Here comes our sleepyhead.”
Taylor bounced down the stairs with a smile. The fourteen-year-old had done occasional babysitting for Alex since she was thirteen. Responsible and mature for her age, she loved all things that had to do with flying and had begged for flight lessons. Shauna was tempted to teach her, but so far her parents had been reluctant to allow it.
A beautiful leggy blonde, Taylor resembled her dad more than her gorgeous mother. Fair skin, hazel eyes, and hair as yellow as Rapunzel’s, she had no idea yet of her beauty. She gave Shauna a boisterous hug. “Sorry I kept you waiting. Are we late?”
Shauna hugged her back, then released her. “Not at all. I was just chatting with your mom.”
Taylor spun around to her mom. “Did you tell her?”
“I didn’t get a chance.” Gina’s smile widened, but her hazel eyes held a touch of reserve. “I’ve talked with Harry, and we’d like you to start flight lessons with Taylor. If you’re willing, of course.”
“Aw, that’s great!” Shauna knew Taylor had been dying to learn. “I promise I’ll take good care of her. You’ll have to learn on a plane first, Taylor. The helicopter will have to come much later. You need to learn about aerodynamics and gain some experience in the air.”
Taylor bounced on the balls of her feet, the excitement flowing off her in waves. “I’m okay with that. When can we start?”
“Maybe this afternoon if I get back in time. It’s all book-work at first.”
“I can’t believe it!” Taylor gave her another exuberant hug.
Smiling, Shauna headed toward the door. “We’d better get going.”
Taylor followed her to the truck. “Are you ever going to trade off that old truck?”
“Not if I can help it.” Shauna buckled her seat belt and made sure Taylor did as well.
Shauna started the engine and pulled out onto the road. “How’s school?”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Okay. When did you start dating?”
Uh-oh. “I was sixteen.”
“That’s how old Dad says I have to be. It’s ridiculous! All my friends are already dating. I’m fourteen, for Pete’s sake. Get with the real world.”
“You have a guy in mind?”
Taylor toyed with her hair. “Well, there’s this one guy. I haven’t met him yet, just on Instagram. He’s been asking me to meet him for coffee. Want to see his picture?” Without waiting for an answer, she drew out her phone and showed Shauna the screen. “Isn’t he cute?”
Shauna widened her eyes at the scruff on the young man’s chin and the expression in his eyes. “Honey, he’s much older than you. I’ll bet he’s in his twenties.”
Taylor frowned and shut off the phone’s screen. “Oh no, he’s not that old. He talked like he was in high school.”
Secrets at Cedar Cabin Page 6