by Ellery Adams
“Just expensive clothes,” Hester said.
Nora pulled out her phone. “And her day planner. I took photos of at least twelve weeks of entries. I thought it might help to get a glimpse of her past, present, and future.”
“Send them to us. We can divide the weeks and study a chunk right now,” Hester suggested. “Maybe we won’t need to go back into her room for the device.”
June gave Hester a pointed look. “You know we can’t leave it there.”
“I know,” Hester mumbled before focusing on her cell-phone screen. “I’ll take March and April.”
“I’ll go for May and June. Seems appropriate,” June said with a smile. “You gaze into the future, Nora.” She squinted at her phone. “Good Lord, I’ve seen doctors with better handwriting.”
Nora studied the cryptic scrawl in Vanessa’s planner while finishing her meal. She wasn’t one to waste food, especially when it was pricey and delicious. Beside her, Hester also ate and read.
“Look at us. We’re like teens having lunch at the mall—faces glued to our screens,” June said after a few minutes. “I’m getting some dessert before the vultures devour it all. Any requests?” She pointed at the laminated s’mores menu on their table.
Hester gave it a quick glance. “I’d like the Grasshopper, please. I’ve never had a s’more made with a Peppermint Pattie.”
Nora looked over the menu. “I’ll have the dark chocolate and strawberry s’more. Thanks. Which one are you ordering?”
“Either the Banana Split or the Samoa. I have a soft spot for toasted coconut.”
June had barely gotten up from the table when Nora was finally able to decipher two words of Vanessa’s spiky handwriting. “Little Switzerland,” she murmured.
“Sounds like a town,” Hester said without looking up from her phone.
Nora called up Google Maps and sure enough, Hester was right. “It’s not much bigger than Miracle Springs.” An idea began to germinate in Nora’s mind. “Can you pull up the Pine Ridge Properties website and see where their other new development is being built? I can’t remember the name of the town, but it wasn’t Little Switzerland.”
“It’s Bent Creek.”
Nora ran a Google search on the other two towns. “All three towns are similar in population, are within an hour’s drive of Asheville, and feature a community bank. Can you click on the Pine Ridge development at Bent Creek and tell me which bank they’re working with?”
Hester stared at Nora. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”
By the time June returned with three plates of warm s’mores and twice as many packets of moist toilettes, Nora believed she had an inkling of how the Pine Ridge Properties scam operated.
* * *
After asking her friends to hand over their phones, she put them in a neat row and then tapped on the May, June, and July planner photos.
“Three housing developments in three small towns in western North Carolina,” Nora began. “Two of the three, the Glades in Bent Creek and the Meadows in Miracle Springs, have a model home and several houses under construction. According to the site maps, fifteen lots have been sold in Bent Creek and fourteen in Miracle Springs. Is that right, Hester?”
Hester licked melted chocolate from her fingertips and nodded.
Nora was too engrossed in her theory to be distracted by the s’more. She glanced at June, who was eating her dessert with a look of rapture.
“Go on,” June prompted. “I might be having a foodgasm, but I’m listening to every word.”
“Okay, so Pine Ridge Properties has gotten backing from the local banks in Bent Creek and Miracle Springs. In turn, buyers are funneled to those banks for their home loans. From the outset, the banks and Pine Ridge collectively stand to make a tidy profit once all the lots are sold.”
Hester frowned. “Where’s the illegal activity?”
“I don’t think Collin Stone plans to build any of these houses,” Nora said. “Which would explain the rush to have all these developments out as quickly as possible.”
June wiped off her hands and reached for Nora’s phone. As she studied the month of July, her eyes went wide. She was just about to speak when bluegrass music tripped out of the speakers positioned around the perimeter of the lawn.
The party’s MC, a rotund, jolly man wearing a straw hat, white pants, and a Hawaiian shirt, waved a glow stick in the air and announced that the dancing would begin shortly. He asked everyone to vacate the picnic tables so that the staff could move them off to the side. He then invited the guests to purchase glow-stick jewelry from the table near the bar and suggested that they all refresh their glasses while they had the chance.
“Let’s find a private place in the garden.” Hester pocketed her phone, grabbed her dessert plate, and reached over the table to touch June’s shoulder. “They’re coming to move our table.”
Nora, who couldn’t care less if another table had to be moved first, walked around to June’s side and gazed down at her phone screen. “What is it?”
June pointed. “I used to live in New York, remember? We had several major airports, and this is the code for one of them. EWR stands for Newark. And I’m pretty sure the four-digit number following the airport code is a flight number.”
Nora was in the middle of searching for the flight’s destination when a young man in khakis and a Hawaiian shirt, with a name badge pinned to the breast pocket, gave the three friends a polite smile. “Excuse me, ladies. Would you mind if we scooted this table closer to the bushes? You can sit back down afterward.”
Hester motioned for Nora and June to hurry up. “That’s okay. We have another spot picked out.”
June led them down a path and under an Asian arch flanked by a sign that read, WELCOME TO THE JAPANESE ZEN GARDEN—ZEN IS A JOURNEY. TAKE YOUR FIRST STEP.
The sign almost made Nora hesitate. It felt like a commitment to pass under the wooden arch, but to what? And yet as they approached a rectangular rock garden with a gravel river and raked sand, Nora was infused with calm. There was something incredibly soothing about the patterns in the sand.
“The flight goes to the Cayman Islands,” she whispered, feeling a sense of reverence for this place. “Specifically, George Town.”
“That would explain the extra outfits,” Hester said. “Vanessa needs more than five days’ worth of resort wear if she’s heading to the Caymans for a vacation.”
June shook her head. “Not a vacation. I think she’s leaving the country.”
“Me too,” Nora said. “After making a last-minute transfer of Pine Ridge Properties funds to an offshore account.”
In unison, the three women glanced up at the illuminated guest-room windows. They’d walked to a point where they had a clear view of Vanessa’s suite. Every light blazed.
“If that’s true, the sheriff will have to release Estella,” Hester said. “Vanessa is the key witness and her word won’t be worth shit once she takes off with . . .” She turned to Nora. “How much money are we talking about?”
“Several million,” Nora said. “Enough to purchase a leisurely life in the islands.”
June folded her arms over her chest. “But for how many people? Who else will be on that plane to George Town? Vanessa doesn’t strike me as the sharing type.”
“I can tell you who won’t be there,” Nora said. The old bitterness seeped out of her pores like stale sweat, but she couldn’t stop it.
Hearing the cold anger in Nora’s voice, Hester moved a little closer to her. “Who?”
Nora knew that Hester was offering her comfort, but it was all she could do not to shove her away. Instead, she snapped a dead twig off the closest tree and began drawing figures in the sand, deliberately ruining the perfectly spaced pattern of waves.
As her friends looked on in silence, Nora drew a stick-figure man. To his left, she drew a woman. On his right, she drew another woman and three children. She pointed to this group with her twig. “They’re not going to Georg
e Town—Collin Stone’s wife and three kids.”
“Should we tell his wife what he’s been doing?” Hester asked.
Nora stared at the people in the sand. “It’s too late to save them,” she whispered. “We can only hope they’ll recover from what Collin’s done to them.” Squatting down, she slowly and tenderly erased the woman and children.
“Nora—” June began.
“We’re going after Annette Goldsmith,” Nora interrupted. She picked up the twig and drew a circle around the other woman. “Tomorrow. And by the time we’re done with her, she’ll be more than willing to help us set a trap for Collin Stone. No one is taking that flight to the Caymans.” She drove the point of her twig through the center of the man’s head. “Because we’re not going to be victims. Never again. The hunters are about to become the hunted.”
Chapter 17
You’ve got to jump off cliffs and build your wings on the way down.
—Ray Bradbury
“I see you brought a few friends along, but signing a contract on your dream house is a big deal,” Annette Goldsmith said when Nora, June, and Hester entered the model home at the Meadows the following afternoon.
It was half past five, and though Nora disliked having to close Miracle Books early again, her desire to initiate the plan she and her friends had devised far exceeded her concerns over losing a few sales.
“They’re my backup. In case things go off-track,” Nora said, breezing past a confused Annette toward the kitchen. June and Hester waved politely at the real estate agent and trailed after Nora.
Nora heard Annette shut the front door. When she entered the kitchen, her saleswoman smile was back in place. “I’m glad that you—”
“Sit down, Annette.” Nora cut her off while gesturing at the closest chair. “I’m not here to buy a house. I’m here to give you the chance to save your skin.”
The smile morphed into a sneer. “What are you talking about?”
Regardless of how composed she appeared, Nora knew that Annette Goldsmith’s life was about to be unalterably changed. Nora almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“You and Collin Stone are having an affair,” Nora said, and watched color flood Annette’s cheeks. “Sit down, Annette. We have lots of things to discuss and limited time.”
“You broke into my office, didn’t you?” Annette asked.
Nora released an exasperated sigh. “I’m giving you one more chance to sit down. If you don’t, we’ll leave and share our story with a reporter friend of mine. And that story includes far more than your secret photos of Collin or your sex tape. Far more.”
Annette sat down. “What are you talking about?”
“Cut the clueless act,” Nora snapped. “It doesn’t suit you and it’s insulting to us. We might actually help you avoid the harsh prison sentence the rest of your partners are bound to face. But that depends on you. Were you aware of the penalties for committing mortgage fraud before you got involved in this mess?”
Nora slid a piece of paper across the table. Annette instinctively reached for it. “Examples of recent cases,” Nora explained. “Look at the sentences these criminals received. Six years’ imprisonment. Fines of over a million dollars. Do you have that kind of money, Annette? Or does Collin have an Annette in every model home? You’re already sharing the man with his wife. How many other women does he have? Do you even know?”
This elicited an immediate reaction from Annette. “He loves me,” she said, pressing her shoulders against her chairback and raising her chin like a defiant child. “I don’t care if you expose us. I want his wife to find out.”
“Did your builder boyfriend share his plans for the rest of the summer?” June spoke for the first time and Nora let her. She knew she had to do a better job concealing her anger. “Is he doing something special in July, for instance?”
Hester jumped in next. “Did he ask if you had a current passport?”
“Because he’s leaving the country,” Nora said. “With all the money. He’s not traveling alone, either. Vanessa booked their tickets. One for her and one for Collin.”
Annette fought to maintain control over her face, but she failed. Her brows furrowed, her lips drew back, and her eyes glittered with fury.
“That’s right.” Nora dropped the triumphant tone she’d previously adopted. Her voice became gentle and sympathetic. “They’re bound for the Cayman Islands. Next month. We have the flight number. And if they’re going together, where does that leave you?”
Annette didn’t respond, but her rage was almost palpable. It rolled off her body and tainted the air. and Nora struggled to avoid being swept up by the familiar feeling—to not be pulled back into the past by Annette’s pain. Nora knew that the emotion behind Annette’s anger was pain. Sorrow would come later. For now, she’d want vengeance. Nora was banking on that.
“Don’t let them win,” Nora said in a near-whisper. “They think they’re better than you—that they’ll collect one more major chunk of change before jetting off to paradise. And my guess is that this chunk is coming from the investors at the bank in Bent Creek.” Nora waited. “Just how involved are you, Annette? Did you commit murder because Collin asked you to get rid of his problem partner?”
“No!” Annette shouted. “I had nothing to do with Neil’s death. Or Fenton’s. I barely knew those guys.”
Though she sounded sincere, Nora couldn’t take Annette at her word. “Why should I believe you? You’re a criminal. You’ve been misleading the people of this town all along—people whose only fault was a desire to own a new house.”
“Which they couldn’t afford,” Annette retorted. “The buyers Dawson selected were like you. You’d sell your soul for three bedrooms, a jetted tub, and stainless-steel appliances.”
June and Hester exchanged brief, victorious glances. Though every member of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society suspected Dawson of playing a major role in the fraud ring—especially since his initials had been written on Greer’s napkin and he was the loan officer at Madison County Community Bank—it was a relief to hear Annette confirm their theory.
“You sold our souls without our knowledge or permission,” Nora said, pointing at Annette. “You’re a Realtor. You know full well that straw buyers can be penalized, even if they don’t receive a cent for the use of their names or credit ratings. Besides, no one would ever move into your houses because Collin wasn’t going to build them. Surely, you were aware of this fact.”
Annette’s shoulders drooped a little. Nora had been waiting for such a sign, because it spoke of resignation and defeat. The real-estate agent was tempted to confess everything, but she wasn’t quite there yet.
Nora spread her hands. “The whole venture must have seemed harmless enough, right? You’d earn some easy money. As would Dawson. But the Pine Ridge partners received a way bigger cut than you.”
“It’s their brainchild,” Annette said with a shrug. “I just work for them.”
“Not for long,” Nora reminded her. “Collin and Vanessa obviously put enough by to fund a whole new life in the tropics. That leaves you out in the cold. Literally. What will you do when all the buyers come to you, asking why their houses aren’t being built?” Recalling Arthur Miller’s play, The Crucible, Nora pressed on with more vehemence. “When they form an angry mob, who’ll be left to take the blame? You. You’ll be burned, Annette. Like a witch at the stake.”
June and Hester directed surprised glances at Nora—probably because she’d used fire imagery to threaten Annette—but there was approval in their glances as well. June and Hester believed in Nora, which made her feel stronger than Samson.
“Why did Neil have to go?” she asked Annette.
“He and Vanessa were in charge of securing investors for each development,” Annette said. Her gaze was fixed on the napkin holder in the center of the table. “You need major capital to start a new community on the scale Collin and Pine Ridge planned. The idea was to build in three or four towns in western
North Carolina. By focusing on towns in the same region, Pine Ridge could establish credibility. Quickly. Things were going fine until Neil got the necessary capital from Madison County Community Bank. According to Collin, Neil started acting weird after that. It was like he drank the Miracle Springs Kool-Aid, and it changed him.”
Nora smiled. “This place has that effect on people. That’s why Neil spent a few days here before the rest of his partners arrived by train. He wanted to make things right and he was trying to figure out how to do it. Did he speak to you about his intentions?”
“No,” Annette said. “But I did hear him talk a potential buyer out of a sale.”
“And you told Collin about the incident, didn’t you?” Nora shook her head in disapproval. “You helped to seal Neil’s fate.”
Annette looked up. “He sealed his own fate! He should have kept his mouth shut and finished what he’d started.”
“Fenton Greer played his part to the letter, and he’s just as dead as Neil. I don’t think your boyfriend was ever going to split the money . . .” Nora trailed off and held up her fingers. “How many ways? Seven? Vanessa, Fenton, Neil, Collin, Dawson, the sheriff, and you. Am I forgetting anyone?”
Ignoring Nora’s question, Annette asked her own. “What do you want? Money?”
“Tell us how it works,” Nora said. “Walk us through the scam.”
Annette rolled her eyes, as if they were wasting her precious time. “Why? You’ve obviously figured it all out. Vanessa and Neil acquired a large sum from investors at the local bank. Using some of that money, Collin purchased tracts of land in three towns, got the necessary permits, and cleared enough lots to build a model home and start a few houses. We have an inside person at each bank—a loan officer. The other real estate agents are just country bumpkins happy to be making commissions. Some of our buyers are legit, but many are like you. They can’t afford these houses, but the loan officers push their loans through so we can collect as many down payments as possible. The loan officers and me get paid under the table from that kitty. Collin and his Pine Ridge partners skim money from the funds acquired from the investors. I don’t have access to those, so I don’t know how much was raised or how much each partner received.”
