Such a Perfect Wife

by Kate White

  So what had motivated Shannon to go back? I wondered. Was it because of turmoil in her life, and had that same turmoil compelled her to seek an escape? And could the answer shed any light on her disappearance?

  I stood for a minute in the center of the room, swigging a bottle of iced tea and thinking. Then I grabbed my car key. Night was falling and my stomach was rumbling, but I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to check out this lead. Five minutes later I was on the road, with my Jeep pointed north.

  The word hamlet turned out to be generous. Sunset Bay, or at least the main part of it, consisted simply of a dozen white clapboard buildings, including a general store, diner, and ice cream “parlour.” Just beyond were a few sleepy looking motels and unpaved roads shooting off in several spots toward the lake. There was no point in traveling down any of them tonight because it was too dark to see much.

  Before heading back, I drove north for two more minutes to the town of Bolton and quickly found St. Mary’s. It was locked up tight for the night.

  Clearly, if I was going to discover what the caller had been talking about—and if it wasn’t a prank—I was going to have to learn more about the area first.

  Maybe someone at Dot’s would be able to help with relevant info. Like Hank Coulter, Captain Command Center and former chief of police. Granted, he’d chosen to be tight-lipped on the subject of Shannon, but perhaps he’d feel differently about Sunset Bay. Though it was now close to seven and I knew he was probably gone for the day, I set out for Dot’s on the off chance he was still manning the phones. Drawing close, I saw to my dismay that the lights were off and the only vehicle in the parking lot, a black pickup truck, was preparing to exit.

  I slowed, curious. As the truck passed me on the left, I caught a quick glance of the driver, who was Coulter himself. He was alone but moving his mouth, probably using Bluetooth to talk on the phone, and he appeared agitated.

  Something was up.

  I pulled into the lot and shifted into park so I could check my phone. No alerts from the sheriff’s department, no news on the Post Star site about Shannon, either. Should I follow Coulter’s car? I wondered.

  My phone pinged before I could decide, and I was surprised to see a text from Alice Hatfield. And even more surprised when I opened it:

  They’re searching the Blaine house. You might want to get over here.

  Okay, this was big. The only way the cops could have obtained a search warrant was by convincing a judge they had probable cause, that they believed evidence of a crime would be found on the premises.

  This was probably what Coulter was jawing about, tipped off by one of his buddies still in law enforcement. I quickly turned the Jeep around and hightailed it to the house on Wheeler Road. Sure enough, as I neared the Blaine place, I saw that the front yard was aglow with lights. Several police vehicles were parked in front, along with a solitary TV van and, just behind it, Alice’s red MINI Cooper. She was leaning against the hood, her attention focused on the house. As I pulled my car in behind hers, she swiveled her head and flicked her chin up in greeting.

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said, approaching her on foot. “Did I do something to deserve it?”

  “I figured I owed you one after last night.”

  “Much appreciated. Do you know what grounds the cops used to obtain the warrant?”

  “No warrant necessary. According to my police source, Blaine gave them the okay to have a second look.” Now it was her turn to grin. “I think your suggestion that the earbuds could have been planted got under his skin.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “The guy seems hell-bent now on proving that he didn’t harm his wife. Regardless of your question, with each day she’s missing, the spotlight on him intensifies, and now it’s in his interest to seem as cooperative as possible.”

  I cocked my head toward the house. “Have you tried going up there and asking questions?”

  “Yeah, and they gave me the deep freeze. Said I can wait until the press briefing tomorrow.”

  “I think I’ll mosey on up there for a closer look.”

  “If your toes get cold, I happen to have a big thermos of coffee.”

  “Thanks, I’ll definitely consider the offer.”

  As I walked away, I noticed the wind for the first time, racing up the sleeves of my jacket. Fall definitely was closing in.

  The police had strung yellow caution tape around the perimeter of the large yard, obviously to keep reporters from trampling onto the grounds, though the only media on-site besides Alice and me was the navy-jacketed reporter from the Albany TV station and his camera guy. A couple of sheriff’s deputies were standing ramrod straight on the other side of the tape, their thumbs tucked into their thick black belts.

  Most of the action, however, was in the house. The drapes were drawn in every room, but even from this far back I could see shadows dancing behind the curtains of several rooms. Was Cody inside? I wondered. According to the law, he would have been allowed to stay and observe but not interfere. If he was in there, it was more than likely that he had an attorney with him.

  A few minutes later, as I stood with my arms crossed, trying to keep heat from escaping, two New York State policemen emerged. They were obviously working in conjunction with the sheriff’s department, and one was carrying two large paper bags, probably filled with items from the house, the other a large, official-looking leather case.

  “Is it true Mr. Blaine gave you permission to search the property?” I called out, knowing the chances of an answer were slim.

  “No comment at this time,” one of the officers shot back. “The sheriff will take questions at the press conference.”

  “Do those bags mean you found something?” the TV reporter queried. He also knew he wasn’t going to score an answer, but he needed video for eleven.

  As expected, no response.

  I watched the two cops drive off in an SUV and turned my attention back to the house. There were still shadows moving, both upstairs and down, but standing outside wasn’t going to tell me who was in there.

  I hoofed back to the red MINI and opened the passenger door.

  “Does the coffee invitation still stand?” I asked.

  “Yup. Jump in. Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee there’s not a bass hook poking out of the passenger seat.”

  “I have a lot of respect for a woman who fishes,” I said as I settled into the front seat, keeping one eye on the Blaine front yard.

  “Do you fish yourself?”

  “No, never liked the worm part. I guess you could say my big outdoor hobbies are hiking and bird-watching, probably because they were things my father did. He died when I was twelve.”

  “That had to be tough. Is your mother still alive?”

  “Yes, though she’s currently off teaching in Nigeria.”

  “Wow, how’d she end up there?”

  “She developed a big case of wanderlust when she turned sixty, and she’s been traveling a ton and also accepting stints in far-flung places as a visiting professor. At least we get to stay in touch through the miracle of Skype.”

  By now Alice had handed over a paper cup of coffee and refilled the plastic cup from the thermos that she was drinking from. Part of me was still on alert, suspicious there was an agenda behind her gift of a lead and the coffee klatch invite. But maybe what I was seeing was simply the salt-of-the-earth side of Alice.

  “So back to the action here,” I said. “Did I miss anything before I arrived?”

  “Not much. They brought out grocery bags, like the ones they carried out a minute ago. It doesn’t look like they’re wrenching up floorboards.”

  “Do you think the fact that Blaine gave them permission means he has nothing to hide?”

  Alice tore at a ragged cuticle, considering.

  “Not necessarily. The guy’s shrewd, and he’s not going to expose himself unnecessarily. If he killed her in the house, he probably did it without spilling any blood, so he knows there’s n
othing in there to incriminate him.”

  Noticing I’d guzzled most of my coffee, Alice kindly refilled my cup.

  “Does it always turn this nippy in September?” I said.

  “At night, you bet. Though we usually end up blessed with an Indian summer at some point.”

  A thought began to bubble up in my mind. Alice clearly knew the area inside out, and so she’d be the perfect person to ask for insight about Sunset Bay. I’d be tipping her off to a lead that could prove to be a freaking gold mine, but without any context, that lead was in danger of becoming a dead end.

  “You were nice enough to alert me to the search here, and now I’m going to return the favor,” I said. “But in exchange I need you to answer something for me.”

  She raised a bushy eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”

  I told her about the phone call then and how it had probably been prompted by the caller spotting me with Tom Nolan.

  “Whoa, hold on. That’s very creepy.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t get the church stuff. Are we supposed to think her disappearance is related to her being a Catholic?”

  “I have no clue. And there was no way to tell if the person really knows anything about Shannon’s whereabouts or if it was just a crank call.”

  “It could actually be the killer, you know.”

  “Yes. Or someone who knows the killer.”

  “You going to let the sheriff in on this?”

  “Not yet. I want to wait until I gather more information and make sure it isn’t a hoax.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “And that brings me to my question. Do you have any idea what the caller was referring to? I searched online for anything related to the Catholic church in Sunset Bay but there’s not even a chapel there.”

  Alice leaned forward and took a sip of her coffee. Even in the dark of the car, I could see her brow furrow.

  “There’s a chapel a couple of miles away, in Hague. Though if the person meant Hague, he would have said so.”

  “My conclusion exactly.”

  “The only other thing I can think of is that there used to be a place around there that was affiliated with the diocese. It was called Sunset Bay Retreat Center, so that might be why it didn’t turn up when you searched under the word Catholic. They stopped operating at least ten years ago, maybe a little more, but the building’s still standing.”

  “And it’s abandoned?” Even through my jean jacket, I could feel the goose bumps sprouting on my arms.

  “To my knowledge, yes, though I suppose it might have been sold and is now under development.”

  “How do I find this place?”

  Alice sighed. “That’s gonna be tricky to explain. It’s at the end of an unpaved road that heads down to the lake, but there’s a bunch of those, and I’d have to be there to remember which—” She paused. “You want me to show you, don’t you?”

  “Yes. First thing tomorrow . . . And if we turn up anything related to Shannon, we could both use it in our posts, okay?”

  “Okay. And yes, we have to go really early. I have a lot of ground I want to cover tomorrow.”

  “Early it is,” I said, and savored a last sip of coffee.

  Maybe the call had been from Matt Wong trying to mislead me. But something in my gut told me it had been significant and I’d had good reason to feel shaken by the sound of that eerily altered voice. The caller knew something.

  The question was what.

  Chapter 6

  I HAD A RESTLESS EVENING AFTER LEAVING ALICE, WIRED from a combo of caffeine, the fact that Beau was temporarily incommunicado, and, needless to say, the mystery caller’s message replaying in my head. What if the retreat center actually was the place the person was referring to? And what if there was something, or someone, waiting there for me?

  I managed to find an open take-out food place close to the Breezy Point, and while eating a soggy chicken Caesar salad at the desk in my room, I toyed with the idea of alerting Killian about the call but decided to wait until I’d secured more info. Hoping it would calm me, I closed out the night with a hot bath, using the so-called “massage” soap bar that had been placed on the rim of the tub. It featured raised dots that I assumed were supposed to soothe my weary arms and legs, but rubbing them along my skin felt about as close to a massage as having my body licked by a puppy.

  Right before crawling between the sheets, I shot my mom an email, checking in. Mentioning her to Alice had made me realize it had been a few days since I’d reached out.

  The next morning, I was headed toward Sunset Bay by seven thirty, stopping briefly for coffee and a muffin along the way. As soon as I pulled into the hamlet, I spotted the red MINI parked in front of the diner where Alice and I had agreed to meet. She lowered her window as I approached the car.

  “I showed up on the early side and did some reconnaissance,” Alice said. She was wearing the same black beret from yesterday. “I had a hard time figuring out the right road after all this time, but the guy who runs the diner told me which one it is. You want to jump in with me or follow in your car?”

  “Why don’t I drive us both? If something weird is going on there, it’s probably best not to show up in a convoy, and my car is less conspicuous.”

  “By the way,” she said after she’d parked herself in the passenger seat with her tote bag at her feet. “I made a call last night to someone I know in the area and he says they definitely haven’t done retreats here in years. I’m not sure we’re going to discover anything, especially if it’s all locked up.”

  “Yeah, it’s a long shot. If we come up empty, can we take time to look around Sunset Bay? Maybe this place holds a different clue about Shannon.”

  “Sure.”

  As I fired up the Jeep, Alice glanced at me.

  “Last chance to turn this over to the cops.”

  “Let’s wait to see if we find anything. That way they can’t accuse us of sending them on a wild-goose chase.”

  I drove past the hamlet’s cluster of blink-and-you’ll-miss-them clapboard buildings. Narrow roads shot off through the trees on the right, and before long, Alice directed me onto one named McAllister Road.

  As we descended toward its banks, the lake disappeared briefly from sight, blocked by masses of firs, poplars, and maple trees, and then burst into bold, blue view again farther down the road. We reached a dead end a minute later, the water sparkling directly in front of us. To our left was a huge and impressive gray stone house, with five gables, four chimneys, and a wraparound porch.

  “Yup, this is it,” Alice said.

  “You’ve been here?” I said, killing the engine.

  “I drove down here with a friend years ago, when it was still up and running. She’d gone on a retreat here when she was in high school and she wanted me to see the house, though I’d noticed it when I was fishing up this way. She said the kids thought it was haunted.”

  It did look haunted, with all those spooky gables and darkened windows. The house must have been a single-family home at one point, a summer retreat for one of the millionaires who had vacationed here in the early part of the twentieth century.

  “How did the Catholic church afford to have a place like this?”

  “It was gifted to them, apparently. . . . You wanna look around, right?”

  “Yup.”

  We climbed from the Jeep and took a moment to survey the scene. There was absolutely no one in sight, and the only sound was from the water lapping against the rotting boat dock behind us. The air was as brisk today as it had been last night, and I was glad I’d layered a sweater under my jacket.

  “I asked the diner owner if he’d heard reports of any activity around here lately,” Alice said. “He said no, for what it’s worth.”

  In unison, we started toward the house, trudging through the thick, overgrown, and yellowed grass, and climbed onto the porch. The weather had done a number on it, splintering many of the planks and causing othe
rs to pop up at the ends. The double wooden doors were battered, too, and a metal chain had been wrapped around the two knobs and secured with a now-rusted padlock. It didn’t look like it had been touched in years.

  “Let’s check the windows,” I said. They were shuttered on the inside, but there was about an inch or so gap in most pairs of shutters, enough to peek through. We split up the job, with Alice taking one section of the porch and me the other. Peering inside, I saw that the floors were coated with dust, and that the few furnishings that remained had been tarped with old white sheets.

  “From what I can see, no one’s been here anytime lately,” Alice announced as she rejoined me a few minutes later.

  “Same here.”

  “So maybe your caller was talking about another place in Sunset Bay. Or simply pulling your leg altogether.”

  “Wait, what’s that?” I’d strolled toward the very end of the porch, past the last window, and I could make out the edge of another building behind us. I leaned out over the railing. It was a simple one-story clapboard structure, not much fancier than a large shed, except that there was a stone fireplace chimney at the left end. The woods rose up behind it, like a long, dark curtain.

  “I don’t even remember that from the time I was here,” Alice said, reaching my side. “Maybe it hadn’t been built yet.”

  “Let’s check it out.”

  We descended and made our way around to the other building. The light suddenly dimmed, and I looked up to see that a mass of dark clouds had gathered without warning and was now driving over the sun, transforming the lake from blue to pewter gray.

  I glanced over my shoulder with a chill. There was a chance, I realized, that last night’s caller was watching us. He might have followed me from the Breezy Point, eager to see how I did deciphering his clue. I needed to keep my guard up.

  We reached the building and pressed our faces against its grimy windows. It appeared to consist of one big room, a rectangular space now totally empty except for a few folding chairs leaning forlornly against the far wall.