Deadly Lies

by Mary Stone

  Linc stood up. “All right.” He went outside with Jacob, zipped his hood up over his head, and took the radio Jacob offered him. “I’ll be back.”

  Jacob nodded. “I’m going to walk around and talk to some of the neighbors. See if they saw or noticed anything, just in case this is more than a lost kid situation.”

  Linc gritted his teeth. He hoped the girl was simply missing instead of having been taken by a human predator, who would do things he didn’t have the heart to think about.

  As Linc approached, Storm watched him seriously, sure that her work would soon begin.

  “Ready to work, girl?”

  Storm barked once, her flanks beginning to tremble. Yeah, she was ready.

  Linc bent down and replaced the leash with a long line before making sure her vest and bell were properly secured. Holding out the blanket for Storm to scent, she gave him a “got it” look, and he said what he hoped would be the result of their search. “Find.”

  Storm took off, nose on the ground. It took a few minutes for her to separate new scents from old, and Linc was forced to guide the dog back from a couple false starts before she caught a scent trail heading into the woods.

  Running with her, Linc kept his head up, looking ahead, searching for footprints or any other sign that the girl had come this way.

  The outdoors had always brought him calm. Even when they were in a battle with the clock and nature’s elements, there was nowhere else Linc would rather be.

  The rain fell harder, and he cursed Mother Nature, knowing the clock they were already working against would speed up faster. Even the breeze was working against him, causing Storm to stop and start as the wind took the scent with it.

  This was what he was good at. This was the way he could make a difference in the world. But, seriously, couldn’t they catch a damn break with this case?

  When a half hour passed and Storm stopped, frustration clear on her face, he began to lose hope.

  Linc climbed down a ridge, letting Storm lead him, the dog keeping her nose to the ground for the scent.

  After about ten minutes of walking, Linc spotted what could’ve been a small child’s footprint on the path. Storm seemed set on this direction, so Linc followed along, until they came to an area littered with a lot of broken glass, cigarettes, and an old fire pit. It was obvious that kids had been out here, having parties.

  He crouched down to Storm’s level. “Is this what you were scenting out, girl? This isn’t right.” Linc offered up the blanket again. Sometimes, competing scents and rain and even the direction of the wind could confuse any search and rescue dog. He heard a noise off the main path that could’ve been a dog barking, or possibly a puppy, and decided to go in that direction. “Come on, girl. Let’s go this way.”

  He led her into the woods, through piles of fallen leaves, too damp to crunch underfoot. The leaves were slick, so he spent a lot of time sliding on them, even with the traction of his hiking boots. A little girl in pajamas would have it a lot worse.

  They descended a rocky hillside, where it got even more treacherous, until Linc could glimpse a narrow stream through the trees. The rain had really swelled it up, and the water was white, flowing rapidly, picking up leaves and bark and whatever else was on the bottom of the forest floor.

  Something like this could mean trouble. Especially with a kid that young and with a learning disability.

  Linc went down to the edge of the water and searched as far as he could downstream, to where it bent around some fallen black tree branches.

  No sign of the girl, or the puppy.

  Linc’s heart started to thrum in his chest. He was drenched, cold, and shivering, and if that was how he was feeling, the kid was probably a lot worse. Linc was already in a bad mood, and a bad ending to this case would only fuck things up more.

  No, it wouldn’t just fuck things up. It would give him more fodder for his nightmares.

  There was plenty of daylight left. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was, it was getting colder, and the rain was picking up. A little girl in her pajamas didn’t have much protection from the elements. If Linc didn’t get to her soon, death from hypothermia was a definite possibility.

  Fighting off the dread that threatened to seep in, Linc yanked Storm’s collar and pulled her downstream, blinking back the rain as it fell steadily against his face. He’d bring this child home, if it was the last thing he did.

  He was not going to let this case end badly. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it did.

  10

  Kylie smiled at Emma as she talked. She was effervescent and full of life and seemed fond of peppering the conversation with rather risqué stories of her past with her husband, Arnold. She told her she’d once been his model—his nude model—decades ago, and he’d seduced her when she was a young girl of only twenty.

  He’d been her sex machine, she’d said, always leaving her notes and performing romantic gestures. That was what had kept their passion alive, she said, for all those years. As Emma gave her the sordid details, Kylie blushed, and couldn’t stop thinking of Linc.

  Her own personal sex machine.

  Kylie managed a look at her phone when Emma stopped to pour more tea, but…no. No text.

  So much for her sex machine.

  Kylie smiled as Emma started to get very graphic about the first time they’d had sex. It was outdoors, in the garden, and she’d been lying on a lounge, letting him paint her, and suddenly he’d become so amorous that he pulled off his clothes and—

  “Okay! I think I’ve got the point!” Kylie said before Emma could go further.

  Emma patted her hand. “Don’t be afraid of sex. It’s a natural thing, sweetheart. All I’m saying is that the relationship between an artist and his model is such a sensuous one. Which is why I never let him paint another woman after me.”

  “Okay. Now, getting back to the missing funds,” Kylie said, realizing that if she was going to get anywhere with this woman, she had to take the rudder on this conversation. Emma was almost as distracted by bright, shiny objects as Kylie was. She seemed sharp, and had a great memory for, uh, details, especially sexual ones, but her obsession with recalling the old days was a little overwhelming. “How did you notice they were missing?”

  “Well, you see. I don’t go out much anymore. And my lawyer handles all of my donation requests these days, since, as you can imagine, I get a lot of them. But I contribute to quite a few causes and have done so for several years.”

  Kylie nodded. She was constantly getting donation requests from UNC and hadn’t a spare penny to her name.

  “Anyway, I have a good friend named Marge, who actually was a nude model herself back in the day. That’s how we met. I think she was a bit of competition for Arnold, if you know what I mean. But Arnold always said that my body was the most perfect one he’d ever had a chance to lay his eyes up—”

  Kylie looked up from her notepad. “So, this Marge noticed the funds were missing?”

  Emma paused. “No. Not exactly. Marge is quite well-off herself, having married an artist too, no one nearly as successful as my husband, though. She’s a bit of a money-grubber, that one, and has a little bit of a competitive streak. Oh, she and I used to fight over Arnold like you would not believe. One day, I saw her standing in front of his door, completely nude, singing to him, and—”

  “All right. But how did she notice the money was missing?”

  “Oh! Well, she and I were once the top donors to the Asheville Modern Art Society. But she told me recently while we were playing mah-jongg and having tea—which we do every Tuesday at ten—that they’d recently sent her a bulletin with the top donors, and my name was no longer on it. So, she asked around and learned they were sorry to lose my support. But I knew nothing of it!”

  Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “Really?”

  “Yes! I was floored. Of course, old Marge thought that I might have been running into some hard times, but I told her that couldn’t
be further from the truth. I explained that Arnold’s paintings have never been doing better. I told her that one of them sold at an auction in Paris for over a million dollars just last month.”

  She had to be kidding. “So, you never made any changes to the charities you support?”

  “No, I did not. I never authorized discontinuing my contributions. Well, I asked my lawyer, but he told me that, as far as he knew, nothing had changed. He said the money was being funneled just as it always had been, and it had to be an accounting error on someone’s part. I’ve been with my lawyer for quite some time, and I think he just assumes I’m being a batty old nutcase. But that’s not true.”

  “That is odd,” Kylie said, scribbling down some notes. “How did your lawyer leave it with you? Is he going to look into it or not?”

  “He said he would, but I think he’s just being dismissive of me. People often are, when you get to be my age. They’re condescending and treat me like a child. And yes, my mind is scattered. It might not be what it once was, but I do know what I’m talking about.” Emma banged her fists on her thighs. “Most certainly.”

  Kylie sympathized with the elderly woman’s frustration and reached over to squeeze her hand. “You seem exceedingly sharp to me.” Emma beamed, and Kylie smiled as she went on. “I’m wondering if it might just be a miscommunication. A technical glitch on the part of the foundation. I’m sure I can get to the bottom of it.”

  Emma leaned over and patted Kylie’s knee. “Sharp girl like you. You’re a little firecracker, I can tell that much already. I’m sure you can too. Are there papers I need to sign to retain you?”

  Kylie nearly hugged the woman. Greg would be happy. “Yes.” Kylie pulled them out of her bag. “I have them right here.”

  “Wonderful. Let me get my bifocals.” Emma stood up and Coco jumped from her lap. “Would you like to take a look at my husband’s main gallery? It has been months and months since I’ve had the heart to go back in the gallery, but there are some lovely paintings of me in there. And other ones too. Though the ones of me are obviously the best.” She whispered the last part as if her husband was listening and gave Kylie a sly wink.

  Kylie nodded. “Oh yes. I really do love his art.”

  Kylie stood and followed Emma across a magnificent, gilded hall, which reminded her of photographs she’d seen of Versailles, to a long ballroom. Here were hundreds upon hundreds of paintings of all sizes. There was a huge one at the very center of a young woman, naked, in front of a dressing table, giving a come-hither look.

  “That’s me,” Emma said proudly.

  Kylie averted her eyes, but not before she got a whole eyeful of Emma’s…assets. She’d been quite attractive in her younger days, with long blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and massive boobs. Emma gazed at it appreciatively.

  “Your husband certainly was talented,” Kylie said, focusing on a painting of a little boy playing with a dog. “How many paintings did he do?”

  “Oh. Thousands.” Emma directed her over to some other paintings but stopped so short Kylie nearly ran into her from behind. “That’s strange.”

  She followed Emma’s gaze to an empty space on the wall. There was a small square there, and a hanging hook, as if a painting had been removed. “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, yes. Madonna in Mourning is missing,” Emma said, a troubled crease appearing over her nose. “That was one of my favorite paintings. And one of Arnie’s most valuable.”

  Kylie walked farther into the room and froze. She noticed right away that two more paintings were missing.

  “That’s very odd,” Emma said, her brow wrinkling.

  “You’re missing three?” Kylie asked, surveying the open spaces. “Is it possible you lent them out to a gallery?”

  Emma tapped on her chin. “I don’t…my mind isn’t what it was. I would remember doing so, wouldn’t I?”

  Kylie didn’t know. Emma seemed pretty sharp. Or maybe that was only in recalling all the details of her love life with Arnold.

  “Well,” Emma said, striding to the corner of the room and pulling on a large woven bell rope. “I’ll just ask Sloane. He’s my right-hand man these days. Has all the answers, he does.”

  A moment later, a balding man who could’ve been just as old as Emma arrived, dressed formally in a dark suit. “Madam?”

  “Good afternoon, Sloane. I was just giving my friend Kylie a tour of our gallery, and I noticed just now that some pieces are missing. Do you know what happened to Madonna in Mourning, Autumn Sunrise, and The Belle in Evening?

  “Why, yes, Madam,” Sloane said, surveying the wall. “You asked them to be reframed, did you not?”

  Emma stared at the man blankly. “When did I do this?”

  He appeared deep in thought for a moment. “Two months ago, I’d say. A man in a white van came to take them away.”

  She sighed and tapped her temple. “I’m losing my memory. I’m sorry. Thank you, Sloane. That’ll be all.” Even as she dismissed the man, she studied the empty spaces, concern on her features. As Kylie watched her, she wondered what it would be like to have a butler, someone to call to her for her every whim and then dismiss with a wave of the hand.

  No, thanks. She thought she’d rather have her place to herself, even if it meant doing everything herself. Well, except for the cooking. And toilets. And dusting.

  Hmm…maybe a housekeeper would be nice. And a chef.

  Emma turned to Kylie, still looking troubled. “I can’t seem to recall what was wrong with the frames to begin with. They were lovely paintings. Three of my most favorite.”

  Hmm. That sounded like a part of the mystery to her.

  Kylie followed Emma out of the gallery and said, “Would you be able to make me out a list of people close to you, staff members, anyone who might be able to shed some light on the missing funds?”

  Emma clapped her hands together. “I thought you might ask for that, so I took the liberty of preparing just such a list for you.” She stopped at what looked like a thousand-year-old desk and pulled out a large envelope, handing it to Kylie. “Names and phone numbers, should you wish to get in touch with them.”

  She opened the clasp and read the first page. Emma had shaky handwriting. The first was Nate Jennings. “Is this your grandson?”

  Emma smiled. “Oh, yes. My sweet grandson. He’s a little older than you, nearly thirty. He comes around to help me out with odd jobs now and then. He’s quite handsome. And…single, last I heard.” Her eyes drifted down to Kylie’s hand. “Are you seeing anyone, dear?”

  “Well, um…” She flashed to Linc, her good old non-texting sex partner. Was she seeing him?

  Kylie stuffed the envelop in her bag, eager to get back to the office to research the contacts better. Then, she’d interview Emma again. Right now, the elderly woman was looking very tired.

  To prove her point, Emma yawned, patting her mouth.

  Kylie reached into her purse and pulled out a copy of the retainer paperwork. “All that’s left to do right now is for you to sign this, giving me permission to research this case on your behalf. Obviously, you won’t want to run this past your attorney, since he’ll be part of my investigations, but if you’d like to read it over and let me know if you have any—”

  “Oh, no.” Emma took the pen from her hand and signed right there. “I have faith in you, Kylie. I know you are the woman for the job. Although I probably should be warier, considering my current state, I can just tell, you’re a good egg. I trust you implicitly.”

  “Well, thank you,” Kylie said, shaking Emma’s hand. “I appreciate the confidence. I won’t let you down.”

  She took Vader by the collar and led him down the stairs, through the drizzle that was now falling, smiling and waving at her new friend as she pulled out of the driveway. She really didn’t think her first client meeting could’ve gone any better. Kylie was excited again, raring to take off and start working, following these leads.

  But she also wanted to tell someone ab
out her success. Someone who’d care. Who’d be as happy for her as she was for herself.

  She wanted to talk to Linc.

  Before she pulled out onto the main road, she checked her phone again. No text from him. From anyone.

  Kylie sighed and hit the gas. She guessed she’d just have to keep it to herself, for now.

  11

  Storm and Linc walked streamside for at least another mile, and all the while, the dread inside Linc’s chest was growing and tightening. The rain was coming down harder now, filtering through the leaves that were just beginning to spot with autumn color overhead. The air was definitely growing colder too, the rain making the mid-fifty temperature feel even chillier.

  The stream was swollen from all the rainfall, rushing fast and furious down the ravine. It may have been narrow, but it was fierce and fast-moving. If the girl’d come this way, she would’ve had a hard time crossing safely. Linc kept his eyes ahead of him, scanning the banks, full of muddy leaves.

  Purple. He was looking for purple.

  Storm stiffened beside him, her nose working more furiously than before. Hope bloomed, but Linc kept a tight hold on it. Storm had a good nose, for both the living and the dead.

  Storm rushed forward, and Linc fed her more of the long line, picking up his pace to keep up. Soon, he’d have to let her roam on her own if he started to slow her down. But as she ran faster, he didn’t think they’d have to resort to that.

  This was how she got when she was sure of something. It was a good sign. He broke into a run, sticking close to her side.

  Then he saw it. Purple. Just a flash of the color.

  As he got closer, he realized it wasn’t moving.

  Bracing himself, he started to run again, not stopping until he came to a bend in the stream. Linc spotted a foot, pale as milk, poking out from where the bottom of her pajamas had torn away.

  That little foot nearly broke his heart.

  “Please be alive,” he prayed.

  The child was curled in a fetal position, holding the puppy to her chest, the roaring stream just inches away.