Never Forget Me: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 7)

by Dan Padavona

  LeVar glanced at his sister. “Gotta admit, it sounds like Osmond is running around on his wife. Pretty brazen of him to sneak out of the house while Rosemary is asleep. Wouldn’t it be easier to lie that he’s working out of town all day? That would give him the afternoon with his mystery hottie.”

  “It shouldn’t be difficult to catch him. We’ll follow Osmond to his jobs and post a car outside the house at night. If he slips out of the house, we’ll follow him to his rendezvous point, take a few pictures, and wrap up the case. Easy money.”

  “It’s never easy money,” Raven said, folding her arms. “I have three open investigations on my desk, and now I’m following another cheating spouse.”

  Chelsey coughed into her hand.

  “And there’s the Albert Slater case.”

  “Who is Albert Slater?”

  “I thought I told you, Slater injured his hand while working for a garage door company. The guy claims he can’t use his hand.”

  “Oh, no. A workers’ compensation claim.”

  Chelsey raised her hands in placation. “The insurance company wants us to prove Slater isn’t pulling the wool over their eyes. Follow Slater for a day and observe his activities. If he’s hurt, it will be obvious. And if he’s faking the injury, catch him in the act.”

  “Maybe LeVar should take this one. If I’m supposed to follow Osmond Bourn, I won’t get to the Slater investigation for days.”

  “You know I can’t hand an investigation to LeVar. He’s not a private investigator.”

  “And I won’t be until I turn twenty-five,” LeVar said, leaning back in his chair. “Six years seems like forever.”

  “By then, you’ll put Wolf Lake behind you and probably have a job with the state troopers or the FBI. Don’t worry about New York’s age requirements for private investigators.”

  “It’s ridiculous. I can handle Slater by myself. Let me trail the guy for a day. Nobody needs to know.”

  “Sorry, LeVar. I allowed you to photograph Andy Clem during an infidelity investigation, and you almost ended up shot. The law is the law, so it’s Raven’s case. You’ll assist her with Osmond Bourn.”

  5

  Kaylee Holmes couldn’t sit still.

  She rose from the chair and paced the kitchen with her hands cupping her elbows. At the refrigerator, she pawed inside for a soda, then put it back without popping the top. She didn’t need caffeine in her system.

  A gunshot rattled the window. She covered her heart and knelt below the counter. Someone was shooting at her. The cops, no doubt. They’d figured out she’d murdered Harding, and now they were opening fire on the house.

  Wait. Cops didn’t shoot at houses in broad daylight, did they?

  Carefully, Kaylee straightened and parted the curtains over the sink. Her idiot neighbor had flooded his riding mower and caused it to backfire. She lay a hand across her forehead and closed her eyes. This was crazy. She needed to steady her nerves. The police didn’t know about the murder. How could they? Harding’s body lay at the bottom of the gorge. Nobody would find him.

  Unless someone rode a kayak downstream or fished in the gorge. Shit.

  Kaylee hurried to the kitchen table and snatched her keys. Did she dare return to the cliffs? She had to know if Harding’s body was still in the gorge. One problem. The last time she drove up the hill, the Kia seemed one loose bolt from splitting down the middle. It was risky to drive from Kane Grove to the wilderness outside Treman Mills. She needed a new car.

  And she could finally afford it. Hell, she had enough money to afford anything she desired. A quaint house on the ocean, a reliable car, a vacation in the tropics. This morning, she’d learned Grandpa had left her his estate. She was a millionaire. Kaylee caught her reflection in the window and grinned.

  “I’m rich.”

  Speaking the truth made it real. What would she do with the money? Grandpa gave everything to her, instead of her dirt bag parents. Even Grandpa had known the truth about his daughter and the man she married. They were mean-spirited, good-for-nothing creeps, who mistreated their only child and brought her decades of grief. Grandpa always loved Kaylee and cared for her when nobody else cared.

  “Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll make you proud.” She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “From this day onward, I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want. And nobody will ever hurt me again.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked up. Killing Harding had been the right decision. She should have done it eleven years ago. Now that the world was free of the conceited prick, she breathed easier. No invisible weights pressed on her shoulders.

  Kaylee jiggled the keys in her hands. One last drive in the Kia. Tomorrow, she’d trade up for something reliable.

  No. Reliable was boring.

  Something fast and aggressive. A car that turned heads.

  After Kaylee had changed her name from Kendra, she’d shed the disgusting fat, altered her hairstyle, and started eating right and exercising. She never again wanted to look into a mirror and see Kendra. Craving something more intense than cross-training, Kaylee had joined a female combat gym specializing in mixed martial arts. The decision altered her life. She found nothing more satisfying than twisting some soccer mom’s arm behind her back and making her yelp. Guys turned to stare whenever Kaylee walked past. Not only because she was beautiful and sexy. They sensed her power. She intimidated men even as her aura drew them to her.

  Yet she’d never had enough money to match her lifestyle with her new persona. Until now.

  Kaylee locked the door and backed the Kia out of the driveway. The portly neighbor who’d flooded his lawn tractor leered at Kaylee as she drove past. Wearing sunglasses, the windows lowered and her hair blowing in the breeze, she smiled as she passed. When she hit the highway, she punched the accelerator and raced around vehicles. Her chest fluttered. The sensation reminded her of steep drops on a roller coaster. The odometer hit ninety before she backed off the gas. As much fun as she was having, the Kia was making that damned rattling noise again, and she didn’t want a cop to pull her over while she drove to a murder scene. As she passed Wolf Lake, her eyes wandered to the idyllic blues and the boats cruising over the waves. She longed for that life.

  She picked up the phone and dialed work. After a minute on hold, Kaylee told her boss she quit. He asked her why, and she hung up on the overbearing weasel. She broke into giggles. For the first time in her working life, she was free. No more clocks, no more worrying about credit card statements. Kaylee understood Grandpa’s money wouldn’t last forever. She’d invest it. Put half into stocks, the other half into bonds and gold and live off the returns. That sounded like an intelligent plan. She didn’t need a financial planner. Kaylee would figure everything out.

  Lost in thought, she almost missed the exit for Treman Mills. A horn honked as she swerved the Kia across two lanes and rocketed down the exit ramp. Then she cruised into the hill country, one wary ear fixed on the pings and jangles emanating from the dying car. She concentrated on the road signs. Last time, she missed the scenic outlook. Halfway up the hill, she spied the turnoff and pulled in. She kept the engine running, afraid the car wouldn’t start if she turned it off.

  A platform overlooked the gorge and stream. She leaned against the rail and stared down.

  Harding’s body was gone.

  Even worse, police officers canvassed the scene and crawled around the gorge like worker ants.

  So they’d discovered Harding.

  “But they don’t know you killed the bastard,” she told herself, surprised she’d spoken the words aloud.

  She swung a paranoid glance over the turnoff. Nobody overheard. As she glared into the gorge, a cop turned his face up. She backed away from the rail, terrified he’d seen her.

  Kaylee’s body was a live wire. She walked backward until she bumped into the car. For a minute, she sat behind the wheel with her breath flying in and out of her lungs. Clammy hands slicked the steering wheel as her knuckles turn
ed white. She leaped when the phone rang. Her boss’s name appeared on the screen, and she tapped the ignore icon. After she returned home, she’d block the jerk’s number, so he didn’t bother her again.

  The Kia crawled out of the turnoff, pebbles rolling around inside the wheel well. She turned up the hill and followed the route she’d taken before she tossed Harding Little to his death. Atop the ridge, emergency lights whirled. The police were at the cliffs. That meant they suspected someone had thrown Harding into the gorge. A Treman Mills cruiser parked along the road. There was a silver Ford F-150 on the shoulder and a sheriff’s vehicle a few car lengths ahead of the Treman Mills PD cruiser.

  Kaylee shifted into park. She stepped onto the blacktop and held her breath as law enforcement scurried across the ridge top. This was a problem. They knew someone had killed Harding. Even the idiotic cops didn’t believe Harding had run off the cliff on his own.

  Kaylee chewed a nail down to the quick and spat. She’d covered her tracks, right? What if she missed a print? Could the police use a sneaker print to prove she was at the cliffs?

  She slid into the car and edged the door shut, careful not the slam the door and draw attention. Putting the Kia into reverse, she executed a three-point turn.

  Kaylee glued her eyes to the mirror until the emergency lights disappeared behind the trees. It was too soon for the police to learn the truth.

  Harding was the first to pay the ultimate price for the way he’d treated her.

  He would not be the last.

  6

  “Carrots and hummus?”

  Raven groaned from the passenger seat of Chelsey’s orange Honda Civic and accepted the snack. The descending sun angle told Raven it was past dinnertime, and her stomach rumbled. She craved pizza, a cheeseburger, a submarine sandwich. Anything more filling than a carrot stick.

  Over the last six hours, they’d trailed Osmond Bourn from his home in Wolf Lake to a converted boathouse along the water, where he hefted a kitchen sink as though it were featherlight and hauled it inside the residence. Two hours later, he climbed into his SUV and motored down the lake road, passing the A-frame where Thomas and Chelsey lived. Chelsey remained a half-mile behind Bourn, not wanting to spook the contractor as he drove to his next job. Fifteen minutes later, Bourn parked outside a brick countryside ranch house between Wolf Lake and Kane Grove.

  Now Chelsey and Raven parked beneath a weeping willow while Bourn repaired a foundation.

  “The man sure is meticulous,” Raven said, crunching on a carrot and wishing it was a plate of fish and chips.

  “Do you think he spent too much time speaking with the homeowner?”

  The owner was a leggy blonde-haired woman in cutoff jean shorts.

  “He might have flirted a little. But that doesn’t prove he’s cheating on Rosemary.”

  As Raven finished speaking, the pretty homeowner emerged from the house and spoke with Bourn while he worked.

  “Keep taking pictures.”

  Raven sighed and raised the camera to her eye. This was going nowhere. As the flirtatious homeowner leaned against the house and flipped her hair over her shoulder, Raven snapped a dozen pictures. To Bourn’s credit, he concentrated on the foundation. Flummoxed, the woman gave up and wandered inside.

  “If anyone is looking to play, it’s the woman. She practically threw herself at Bourn, and he didn’t bite.”

  “Weird,” Chelsey agreed. “Maybe he’s playing it cool until he’s sure nobody is watching. Do you think he’s on to us?”

  “Doubtful. There’s a better chance Rosemary Bourn is paranoid and overreacting.”

  “You don’t find it strange that Bourn sneaks out of the house while she’s asleep?”

  Raven didn’t have an answer. She framed the contractor and shot another photo. The foundation appeared perfect. The man did solid work. Her mother, Serena, had purchased Raven’s old house near Wolf Lake after Raven moved into the ranger’s cabin with Darren. The foundation at Mom’s house showed cracks. Raven might call Bourn after this investigation concluded.

  “All I’ve seen out of Bourn today is he’s a little more talkative around women than he is men. That doesn’t make him a cheat.”

  “We just haven’t caught him yet.”

  Raven set the camera on the seat and lowered the window. The late afternoon breeze aired out the Civic and carried the scent of recently mowed grass.

  “I feel like we’re wasting time on this guy. Don’t forget I have a mountain of paperwork on my desk. I’ll never catch up if I’m following flirtatious spouses all day.”

  “I cashed Rosemary Bourn’s check. We owe it to her to figure out what her husband is up to.”

  Raven adjusted the seat and leaned back. She could go for a nap right now. The boredom was dragging her down, and it didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten a solid meal since breakfast.

  “Is something going on with Wolf Lake Consulting, Chelsey?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re taking on more cases than ever before.”

  “Business is terrific. No sense turning money away. By the way, we have another case worth looking into.”

  Raven stared at Chelsey with her mouth hanging open.

  “You’re serious.”

  “A woman named Georgia Sims contacted me this morning. She claims someone wants to kill her.”

  Raven twirled a finger over her ear, indicating Sims was crazy.

  “Why do you think she’s nuts?”

  Raven shrugged. “She phoned the office twice yesterday and refused to take no for an answer. Anyhow, we’re a private investigation firm, not a protection agency.”

  “Sims offered a generous down payment, and she’s willing to pay top dollar.”

  “She’s neurotic.”

  “What if she’s neurotic because someone wants to kill her?”

  Raven bit her lip. There was no arguing with Chelsey.

  “All right, so when do we start on the Georgia Sims investigation?”

  “I requested a meeting at the office. We’ll learn more then. By the way, where are you on the Albert Slater investigation?”

  “The guy with the injured hand? I followed him to the gas station yesterday. He pumped gas with his uninjured hand.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Afterward, he drove home and never left the house. What more can I do?”

  “Stay on him.”

  Exasperated, Raven raised her palms. “When?”

  Chelsey leaned over the steering wheel as Bourn gathered his tools. “Looks like our cheater is on the move.”

  “Yeah, to his next job.” Raven rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to photograph Bourn repairing a toilet or digging a flowerbed.”

  Chelsey snickered. “We can sell the pictures to a home improvement tabloid for extra money.”

  “Those don’t exist, do they?”

  “They have excellent articles, but all repairs are performed by aliens or Elvis.”

  “Well, if you really want to nail Bourn, I can think of one way.”

  “Go on.”

  Raven crossed one leg over her knee and batted her eyelashes. “No man can resist Aphrodite.”

  Chelsey leaned her head back and laughed. When Raven didn’t grin, Chelsey glared at her. “Wait, you really mean it.”

  “Why not? I’ll lay on the charm. If he takes the bait, we’ll catch him in the act. Case closed, another check cashed, and Rosemary Bourn has her answer.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t allow you to put yourself at risk.”

  Raven leveled her eyes with Chelsey’s. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Obviously. But it’s too risky.”

  “The next time he hits his favorite drinking establishment, I’ll walk in and sit beside him. After I get Bourn to buy me a drink, I’ll make my intentions clear.”

  “Too dangerous.”

  “I’ll take LeVar with me. Even a big dude like Bourn won’t mess with my brother. Besides, I’ll need Le
Var to capture Bourn on camera when he makes his move.”

  Chelsey rubbed her forehead. Outside the residence, Bourn carried two toolboxes to his SUV and set them in the back.

  “Tell me more.”

  Raven turned to face Chelsey. “Here’s my idea. I pretend I’m visiting from out of town and interested in a fun time. He’ll loosen up after a few drinks. Once he does, I’ll flash the key to my hotel room.”

  Chelsey waved her hands in the air.

  “Oh, no. We’re not paying for a luxury hotel room.”

  “Who said anything about luxury? The Pink Flamingo sells rooms for fifty-nine dollars a night.”

  “It’s a dive.”

  “Yeah, and it’s the perfect cover. The Pink Flamingo is the number one hookup motel in the county.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this. No, Raven. I won’t allow it.”

  The door closed on Bourn’s SUV. Brake lights flared as he backed into the road.

  “Come on, Chelsey. We wasted an entire day following this guy, and all we have to show for our efforts are how-to pictures for foundation repair. He didn’t sleep around on his wife. He didn’t even kiss the hot blonde on the cheek. If you don’t roll the dice and show aggression, we’ll end up trailing Bourn for weeks before he slips up. Catch him fast and move on to the next case.”

  The SUV rumbled past. After the vehicle disappeared below the hill, Chelsey twisted the key in the ignition and pulled onto the road.

  “I’m uncomfortable with the hotel room.”

  “Is it the money, Chelsey? If it is, I’ll pay out of pocket.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Chelsey said, coughing into her hand. “As soon as the door closes on that motel room, LeVar won’t be able to monitor you. What if Bourn attacks you, and you can’t fight him off?”

  “I’ll keep my phone on. LeVar can listen in.”

  Chelsey turned the air conditioning on and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

  “Meet with your brother and work out the logistics. When you’re certain you’ve covered all eventualities, bring the plan to me and I’ll decide.”