A Recipe for Disaster (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 16) (3 page)

I slowly approached Claire's vehicle and peered inside again. Apparently, Claire had taken the duffel bag with her.

I meandered over to the dirt road and knelt down. The footprints in the dirt looked fresh, so I assumed they were hers. Where else would she have gone?

There was nothing to indicate where the dirt road may lead - no mailbox or any marker was visible. I wondered if her ex-boyfriend, Andy Pinkerton lived out here. Maybe they had gotten back together, and she was bringing him the money for some reason.

I checked my watch. Almost 3:30 pm. I had at least another three hours of daylight, but what should I do? It was not advisable to head out into unknown territory on foot and alone, but my only back-up was at home, recovering from a pulled muscle.

However, I certainly wasn't going to get any answers by standing around doing nothing.

With that thought in mind, I reached into my bag to make sure the batteries were still working in the flashlight. The camera was fully charged, too.

Thankfully, I had dressed appropriately in black boots, jeans, and a fleece sweatshirt. With the temps hovering in the high fifties, I'd be fine for a few hours.

Besides, adrenaline has a way of keeping you warm.

I sent Carter a text, letting him know my location, what my plans were, and that I wouldn't be answering my phone for a while. Once I got into the woods, I'd probably lose my cell connection.

I decided it might be safer to trek adjacent to the dirt road instead of on it. Easier to duck behind a tree in case Claire, or someone else, began heading back. I'd have to beat whomever to the road and get out of there before my car was spotted.

With binoculars in hand, I managed to negotiate a thick patch of thorny bushes and heavy shrubbery. I almost lost my footing after stepping in a hole. After a few minutes, I'd only gone fifty feet at the most, and my feet were soaked from all the melting snow. At least my efforts had paid off because I finally spied a structure in the far distance.

A camper.

I held the binoculars to my face and smiled. A white camper, all by itself, stood in a small clearing. No vehicles around that I could see. Whoever owned this camper wasn't home. So why was Claire here?

I trudged another twenty feet or so and stopped to look through the binoculars again. I had a clear line of sight, but I still couldn't see anyone, nor could I hear any voices.

I reached into my bag, grabbed the camera with the zoom lens, and snapped a few shots of the trailer. It looked like it'd seen better days. One of the tires had a flat, and the whole thing tilted to the left. It reminded me of the funny houses at the carnival when I was a kid.

Maybe no one lived here at all. Could be a pickup/drop off for drugs.

Hopefully, Carter would be able to find out who owned this land by using GPS coordinates.

How long should I wait?

With every second that went by, the risk of being discovered increased. My luck would eventually run out.

Finally, the door of the camper slammed open, and Claire jumped out. She marched toward the dirt road without the duffel bag.

I returned the camera and the binoculars to my satchel and retraced my steps back to the main road, ignoring my wet, frozen feet. Hopefully, she wouldn't hear the branches breaking under me as I hoofed it back to my car.

I threw the bag of equipment into the passenger seat, got behind the wheel, and drove off. In my rear-view mirror, I saw her getting into her Volvo. 

That was the last time I ever saw her alive.

Chapter 3

C
arter's house, a three bedroom ranch located in a quiet residential neighborhood, still didn't feel like home to me.

It had only been a week, though, so I knew it would take time to get used to the living arrangements. Carter had insisted that I go shopping to pick out some new furniture, just so the place would feel more like “ours.” I appreciated the sentiment, but his furniture was perfectly fine. No point in wasting money.

The fact that he cared about my feelings was enough.

After my divorce, I'd found the perfect apartment located in a Victorian house, with a huge stone fireplace and high ceilings. The rent, however, was not in my budget. When Carter had first asked me to move in with him, I knew it was the right decision, yet part of me wondered how it might change our relationship.

Carter had been a bachelor for the last decade after his marriage ended, right around the same time that his teenaged daughter had overdosed. It took him many years to open up and let someone in, and I felt honored to be the one. However, working side by side with your lover has its drawbacks.

We worry about each other constantly.

“You must be freezing,” Carter said as soon as I walked into the kitchen. He took me by the arm as he led me to the bedroom. “Take off your boots and pants.”

I knew this was just Carter being concerned, but sometimes he sounded like a protective parent. “This is not the right time for hanky panky,” I teased, unzipping my fly.

His eyebrow shot up in mock surprise as he grinned. “You're right, we can save that for later. I just don't want you to get sick.”

I peeled the wet jeans off and rummaged through the drawer for a clean pair. “Were you able to find a connection between Claire and Norton Cline?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me undress. “Not yet but I can tell you they're not related. Have you talked to the client since your trek in the woods?”

“I called Lois as soon as I left Sanford. She was just getting out of work, so we're gonna meet at the office in ten minutes.”

“Why don't you upload the photos onto my laptop so I can look them over while you're gone? I'll try to figure out who lives in that camper.”

* * *

Lois met me in the parking lot, and we walked up to my office together.

My new office, located on the second floor of an old duplex, is not what you'd call fancy. I share a bathroom and a kitchen with two other businesses; a Title company and an accounting firm. Even though Carter deems it as unnecessary, I feel the office gives us a professional edge. Plus, it's cheap.

Once we were behind closed doors, I sat Lois down and said, “I have to hand it to you. Your instincts were correct. I think Claire is involved in something fishy.”

Lois blinked at me. “What happened?”

“After work, I followed her to the grocery store, where she picked this up.” I handed Lois the newspaper article. “Do you know this man?”

She inspected the photo, and her eyes widened. “Yeah. Well, not personally. He's a customer. I've seen him in the bakery a few times.”

“So it's possible that Claire knew him from the bakery.”

She shrugged. “She never comes out of the kitchen long enough to have a conversation with any of the customers.”

“Okay,” I said. “But as soon as she read this article, she went home, got the duffel bag, and sped all the way to Sanford.”

“What's in Sanford?” she asked.

“A camper in the woods. I don't think anyone else was there at the time. She dropped off the stash and left.”

“Any idea who the camper belongs to?”

“Carter is working on that, but I believe Norton Cline is connected to that money.”

Lois shook her head, dumbfounded. “How?”

I shrugged. “Claire is no longer in possession of the money, but that doesn't  mean she's out of trouble. I think the best thing for you to do is sit her down and tell her the truth.”

“That I snuck into her bedroom and found the money?”

“Yes. And you should fess up to hiring me. If you tell her the truth, that you're worried about her, the worst she can do is ask you to move out. She probably won't do that because you are her boss. So, unless she doesn't value her job, she might come clean.”

Lois closed her eyes. “Is this your way of telling me you're done with the case?”

“No, but if Claire finds out that you hired me to spy on her, there could be consequences.”

Lois let out a long, exasperated breath and opened her eyes. “Okay. I'll take your advice and try talking to her again.”

* * *

When I got home around six, Carter made sandwiches for dinner. Since neither one of us was particularly handy in the kitchen, we usually opted for take out. A homemade ham sandwich was considered a gourmet meal.

“Did you have any luck finding the owner of the trailer?” I asked.

Carter rummaged through some papers. He used the kitchen table as his office desk, so his laptop, notebooks, and random file folders were always around and in the way.

He found a piece of paper with his scribblings. “Not exactly, but I was able to find out who owns the parcel of land. Guy by the name of Lance Fleming who lives in West Virginia. Got his contact information and called him up. He has no knowledge of any trailers or campsites on his land.”

“So someone is living there without his permission.”

“Looks that way. Mr. Flaming didn't seem too concerned about it. It's probably happened before. Says he'll have someone look into it.”

“Did he say what he uses the land for?”

“No. My guess, it's an investment.”

I devoured the sandwich in six bites and washed it down with a glass of red wine. “Good work, by the way. I'm always impressed how fast you acquire information.”

He smiled in response. “You must've been hungry. I haven't seen you eat this fast since...I can't remember.”

“I have to admit, I kinda like it when you're injured. There's a meal on the table when I get home. I could get used to this.”

“Don't get used to it. I'm just about bored out of my skull. Tomorrow I'm back in the game.”

I knew that Carter trusted me to take center stage with our jobs, but he didn't like being left out of the action. He thrived on working, keeping his finger on the pulse. “I got some information about the guy in the paper.”

I looked up at him. “Norton Cline? What did you find?”

Carter chuckled. “Let me just say, I'm glad I never invested my money with him. He's got a reputation for screwing his clients. Over ten lawsuits have been filed against him since 2008. He's worked for several companies and has owned a few. There's actually a blog dedicated to slamming this guy, most likely an unhappy customer -  maybe even one of the lawsuit people.”

“Any idea if those clients received any compensation from the lawsuits?”

“No. If I had to guess, Norton didn't pay out a single penny. This guy with the blog posted pictures of Norton's cars. He owns a Mercedes, a Jaguar, and a brand new Bentley. He also has three homes. One here in Bridgeport, one in Key West, and one in Hawaii.”

“Usually when a guy has that kind of expendable money, he's stepped on a few toes.”

“Stepped on?” Carter snorted. “More like run over with a car.”

“Or, conversely,” I said. “Maybe Norton does an honest business, and those lawsuits were phony.”

“One or two lawsuits? Maybe. Over ten? No way. The guy's a crook, I'm telling you.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

When my phone rang, I saw that it was Lois's number. I put the call on speaker so Carter could listen in.

“Hey Lois, how did the talk go with Claire?”

“She wasn't home when I got here. Her car is in the driveway, but she's gone. I've been waiting for over an hour.”

“Okay,” I said. “Did you check the neighbor's house?”

“She's not there. I can see him through the window, and he's just watching TV with his dog.”

“Maybe she went for a walk.”

“She never just goes for a walk.” A short pause and then, “I'm sorry to be a pain, but should I be worried?”

Lois, I could tell, was already worried. She didn't need my blessing. “Have you looked around the house for any signs that she was abducted?”

“Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn't mean she wasn't taken.”

“I assume you've tried calling her cell phone.”

“It's turned off.”

Typically, when a client gets an idea in his or her head, it sticks. Lois, convinced that Claire was in serious trouble, would not let go of that notion until I saw her face to face and calmed her down. A bit of hand-holding is part of my job. “Sit tight. I'll be over in ten minutes to have a look around. I'm sure she's fine.”

“I hope you're right.”

When I ended the call, Carter let out a long sigh. “Sounds like we have a melodramatic client on our hands.”

“We need to respect her feelings.”

He started to get up from the table. “Want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I'll be fine. Remember, you're supposed to be taking it easy.”

He sat back down and gave me a disconcerted look. “If I took it any easier, I'd be in a coma.”

“Not true,” I said. “You are the research master. You can help by finding out who owns that trailer in Sanford.”

“Why don't I just drive up there myself and wait for the guy to show up?”

“Because it's dark out. Too risky.”

He seemed disappointed. “Fine. First thing in the morning, then.”

I still hadn't enlightened Carter about my history with Lois's brother. I'd toyed with the idea of not mentioning it at all. I couldn't see how it would make a difference. Still, I didn’t want to keep any secrets from him.

“I should probably mention that Lois's brother and I used to date. Over twenty years ago, while I was in massage school.”

Carter perked up. “Really? What's his name?”

“Peter Mackey. It wasn't a serious relationship. We just dated for a few months, that's all. I wanted you to know in case it ever came up.”

“Okay,” he said, seemingly nonchalant. “Thanks for telling me.”

No questions? No hint of jealousy or insecurity? Not that Carter was the jealous type, but I figured he'd want to know something about the guy.

And then I realized, Carter could find out anything he wanted to know about Peter with a few taps on his laptop keyboard. And I suspected it's exactly what he'd be doing until I came back.