Under Lock and Key

by Sylvie Kurtz

  “I thought we’d leave early. It’ll give us time to get settled before we perform.”

  “Good. I’ll wait up for you.”

  Dee dismounted. Her face was set, disapproving. “You slept with Tyler.”

  It wasn’t a question. “He gave me an enchanted evening.” No need to mention mornings or afternoons. It would only make Dee worry more.

  “You’re heading for heartache.”

  Melissa searched Dee’s eyes for a bit of softness. “Can’t you be happy for me?”

  “Mel—”

  “You have it all, Dee. The husband, the kids. You get to live out there, do what you want. What do I have? I know it’s a fantasy. I know it isn’t going to last. Just let me enjoy it while I can.”

  “I don’t want to see your heart broken.”

  Melissa raised her hands helplessly. “Don’t you see? It already is.”

  Dee reached through the fence and hugged her. “Oh, Mel.”

  TYLER HEADED UP to Melissa’s tower and watched her from the window as he dialed Freddy’s number. The distance provided no relief. He wanted her here, touching him. Shaking his head, he turned away from the outside view.

  She was driving him crazy, and that was no way to get through this. But the harder he tried to get a grip, the more slippery it became. Breath he didn’t know he was holding huffed out of him.

  He asked about Rena and the baby, and Freddy obliged before getting down to business. “The black substance on the stones you brought isn’t mold. It’s burned on as if someone etched them with a torch.”

  “Do you know the history of the castle?” As Tyler spoke, he ripped a piece of paper from the roll beside Melissa’s desk and taped it to the wall. He grabbed a marker and wrote “Castle,” then the information about the stones.

  “William Carnes imported it from England. It’s supposed to have belonged to Sir Alasdair Thorne who is supposed to have studied under Nicholas Flamel, the famed alchemist. The centuries don’t match, though.”

  “Is there anything to this alchemy thing?” For someone who didn’t believe in anything he couldn’t see, the whole concept seemed half a bubble off level. But just because he didn’t believe in things like astrology and numerology didn’t mean that others couldn’t. And keeping an open mind would allow him to see the whole picture.

  “As far as I know it’s legend.”

  “Did your guy make anything out of the marks?” Tyler asked, trying to recall the shape of the scrolls. Melissa would. She could have drawn them for him straight from memory.

  “He’d need a bigger sample to see a pattern, but yes, he seemed to think they might be letters or symbols of some kind.”

  “For an alchemy recipe?” Tyler spun on his heel and headed for the far window. The crumbling tower stood in the corner. What if the answer was in the stones?

  Freddy sighed. “I doubt it. Alchemy is more of a philosophy than an actuality—transforming the base metal of ignorance into the gold of wisdom.”

  “But what if someone took it literally? What if someone really thought these burn marks led to a recipe for riches?”

  “You’re thinking of Randall again.”

  Tyler scanned the timeline. “Look at the facts, Freddy. This whole thing started after the mason inadvertently unearthed the markings on the stones.” He raked a hand through his hair, remembering the lead article of the Wall Street Journal that morning. “Randall’s in trouble. Even Wall Street is starting to ask questions.”

  “Randall’s a practical man. According to alchemist belief, the most important part of success in alchemy is the alchemist himself. Only virtue can transcend the spiritual world to appear in the physical world. There’s nothing divine about Randall.”

  “Except in his own mind. How do you know all this?”

  Freddy bellowed a laugh. “I’m a master at trivia.”

  Tyler smiled. You could always count on Freddy to know some arcane bit of knowledge—or at least where to get a lead on it. “What about the rest? Anything on Sable or Tia?”

  “Sable has a full calendar and she’s keeping the guy I have tailing her on his toes. But so far, she hasn’t done anything to warrant a second look. Other than being inordinately happy, there’s nothing to report on Tia, either. She’s going through money like water—but it’s all going for new clothes.”

  Tyler was drawn to the opposite window. Below, as the sun was sinking into the trees, Melissa and Eclipse danced. His breath caught. He shook his head to loosen the grip of the spell. “What about the boyfriend?”

  “Drake West. I’m still waiting on the background check.”

  Tyler frowned. “Why does the name sound familiar?”

  “West Oil.”

  “Didn’t Randall’s sister marry a West?”

  “I’m betting we’ll find some relationship.”

  Tyler shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like Randall, and you’re letting it cloud your judgment.”

  “Because I don’t like Randall, I’m making sure I have facts to back the hunch.” Tyler fisted a hand and wanted to punch at something, anything, to dispel the frustration winding him tight. “It’s happening again, Freddy. It never stopped.”

  Freddy was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you can handle the situation?”

  “Yes.” He had to. For Lindsey. For Melissa. For his own sanity.

  “Your job is to watch out for Melissa. I’ll do the digging from now on.”

  “Fred—”

  “I mean it, Tyler.”

  Tyler closed his eyes and swallowed his anger. “Looking out for Melissa means I can’t ignore what’s going on around here. There’s a town going crazy around us. There’s someone stirring the pot. And every stone that gets turned—even by you—seems to have Randall under it. You can fire me, but I can’t quit.”

  Freddy was right. He was too involved.

  GOLDEN LIGHT spilled over the room as he threw the wall switch by the French doors leading to the patio. The air-conditioning dried the sheen of sweat from his skin. He walked straight to the discreet bar near the desk and reached for the bottle of twenty-five-year-old single-malt scotch. The cork slipped out of the glass neck with satisfying ease, and he poured generous fingers into a crystal glass. The rich peaty taste went down smooth.

  He wandered to the walls of books, barely glancing at the gold-etched lettering on the leather bindings. His hand homed in on the album. As he eased into the carved and gilded wooden armchair covered in silk damask, the pages cracked open to the right spot.

  There they were—William and Royal. So young. So foolish. Didn’t take long for both of them to learn that trust ought to be given only in small measures. One idea had led to a kingdom, and the rightful creator had been discarded like garbage. Someone had to pay.

  He looked around the well-appointed room, at its comfort, at its richness, at its glamour. This was his. It rightfully belonged to him. And the feeling of power warmed him more than the expensive scotch.

  In a few days, the crude was going to blow. But this he would protect. By any means. The riches—gold and oil—in and under the castle also belonged to him. He wouldn’t stop until he had all that was his due.

  He returned the album to the shelf and placed the glass square in the middle of the desk.

  God willing and the creek don’t rise, everything would go smoothly. The course of action was set. The scribe would record the events because he couldn’t do otherwise. The legal battle was all but won—the proof of wrong right there for all the world to see. No one would dare hold what belonged to him once the truth was exposed. How could they?

  And then, since William had up and died before the debts were squared, his daughter would have to atone for his sins.

  Chapter Twelve

  On Thursday members of Reverend Palmer’s church staged a demonstration on the public road near the castle’s driveway. Since they weren’t trespassing, the sheriff said his hands were tied. They brandished S
atan-exorcising placards all day and left them planted on the soft bank of the moat as they faded into the night, chanting hymns.

  On Friday they were back bright and early, holding hands and praying for her eternal soul while the sun burned off the thin fog. Dee picked up Eclipse and left for the beehive of activity that was the show grounds, leaving Melissa stung with a tiny bite of envy. The reverend’s fire-and-brimstone words followed Dee in and out. She ignored them.

  As the truck and trailer exited through the front gate, Tyler’s words replayed in Melissa’s mind. “You should show him.” Was there even a remote chance that judges and spectators would see Eclipse’s brilliance and not focus on her ugly face? “They would see magic.”

  No, that was just another pipe dream.

  She rubbed her stomach, thought of the possibility of a child already growing there. Closing her eyes, she fiercely prayed that at least one of her fantasies would come true.

  Not long after Dee left, Sable stormed the castle, clipping one or two of the faithful in her rush. Never had Melissa seen her stepmother so flustered. She wore no makeup. Her hair wasn’t tied into its usual chignon. Her clothes didn’t match—as if she’d simply thrown on the first blouse, skirt and shoes she could get her hands on. With the engine still running, the car door winged open. Sable wasn’t out of the car before she started shouting for Melissa.

  Frowning, Melissa left her chores in the stables, called to Tyler, who was out by the crumbling tower collecting bricks, and hurried toward her stepmother.

  “What’s wrong?” Melissa asked, catching Sable on the fly.

  “Tia’s disappeared!” Sable exclaimed in a shrill voice.

  Melissa tried to calm her, but Sable kept unraveling before her. “She’s probably with one of her friends,” Melissa said. “Have you called Drake? They seem inseparable these days.”

  Hands flying, eyes darting, body undulating, Sable seemed on the verge of becoming airborne or collapsing. “He told me he hasn’t seen her since last night.”

  “Did he seem worried?”

  Sable shook her head. “No. No, he didn’t. He said she’d planned a shopping expedition with Christie.”

  “Well, there you go.” Melissa tried to usher the now cemented-into-place Sable toward the kitchen. “Let’s go call Christie.”

  Sable’s hands clamped viselike on Melissa’s arms. “No, don’t you see? Tia never came home last night. She told me she was going to be with Drake. He hasn’t seen her. Christie hasn’t seen her. None of her friends have. This—” Sable choked on a sob.

  “This what?”

  Sable dumped the contents of her purse right in the middle of the courtyard. Wallet, coins, credit cards, tubes of lipstick and various scraps of paper fell onto the cobbles. She grabbed an envelope from the middle of the mess and thrust it at Melissa. Melissa glanced at Tyler over Sable’s shoulder. He raised an eyebrow in question. His presence gave her a confidence that surprised her.

  “It came this morning. With the newspaper.” One could set a watch by the steadiness of Sable’s morning routine. Paper and coffee were started precisely at seven and consumed before her private trainer arrived at seven-thirty. Exercised, showered and dressed, she was ready to start her day by nine. “It’s a ransom note,” Sable wailed. “Someone’s taken my baby. You have to release the funds. You have to.”

  “Did you call the police?” Tyler asked as he returned Sable’s belongings to her purse.

  Sable gripped Melissa’s forearms, digging her nails into the skin. “No! No police. It says no police. I want her back alive.”

  Kidnappings rarely ended well. But there was no point in quoting statistics. Melissa didn’t want to even entertain the possibility of her half sister coming to harm. For all her flightiness, Tia wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose. She’d always been a bit of sunshine in Melissa’s drab world.

  Melissa shook her head. Through the worry whirring like a bird caught in an attic, she tried to think logically. The Dallas police might be of help; the local law certainly wouldn’t. Maybe they should call the FBI. Maybe Sable was right. Maybe paying the ransom was the easiest way to guarantee Tia’s safe return. “A million dollars is a lot of money.”

  Sable’s eyes narrowed and hardened. Her gaze murdered. “It’s nothing to you. Pocket change. We’re talking about Tia’s life!” Her voice hitched, then her knees gave out, and Melissa followed her slow-motion melt to the courtyard cobbles. “She’s William’s daughter, too. It’s her money, too.”

  “Of course,” Melissa said softly. “I’m willing to release the funds, Sable, but it’s going to take a few days to cash in assets. It’s Friday—”

  “I need it now,” Sable sobbed. “Today.”

  Melissa brushed away a tear-soaked strand of hair from her stepmother’s cheek. “I probably can’t get anything to you until Monday.”

  Sable’s eyes rounded in desperation as she shook her head. “No! Don’t do this to me, Melissa.”

  “Mrs. Carnes,” Tyler said, as he crouched next to them, “why don’t we go inside? You can tell me exactly what happened while Melissa calls her broker. Before we start panicking, let’s see what can be done.”

  Sable sniffed. “I need my baby back.”

  For all her faults, one thing was certain about Sable—she loved Tia with all her heart. Melissa understood the depth of Sable’s torment. She’d do anything to protect the child that might now be growing inside her.

  “We’ll do our best to make sure she comes back home safely,” Tyler said in a rich soothing voice.

  Nodding, Sable scuttled to her feet. “I told her that boy was bad news.”

  “Drake?” Melissa asked as Sable leaned heavily on her.

  “I don’t like the crowd he hangs out with.” She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “Such rough characters.”

  “You think Drake’s friends have something to do with Tia’s kidnapping?” Melissa asked. That certainly would narrow their search. And surely Drake’s friends wouldn’t harm Tia.

  “I don’t know. Who else? She’s a good girl.”

  “Of course she is.” Melissa and Tyler shared a look over Sable’s head. Did whoever was playing this awful game of chess know how much Tia meant to her? Was Tia’s kidnapping just another way to get to her? Or was it an unrelated event?

  “Sable, was there a chess piece with the note?” Melissa asked as she guided her stepmother through the kitchen door.

  “Chess piece? No, why?”

  Not related. That was a relief. “It’s not important.”

  While Tyler settled Sable on the couch in the sitting room of Melissa’s tower—displacing a not-too-happy Selma—Melissa reached her broker and made arrangements for the transfer of the ransom money and its delivery to the castle.

  Sable was crying a river of tears while Tyler gently attempted to extract information from her.

  Tyler’s patient manner with the woman he thought was out to hurt her zinged Melissa’s heart with tenderness. In such a short time, this man had managed to invade all of her: heart, body and soul. There were layers to him that would take a lifetime to unearth. And suddenly she wanted that lifetime with a fervor that made her heart contract. These past few weeks had shown her how short life could be, how precious. This new crisis brought the lesson home with urgency. She could not go on living this half-life.

  Once Tia was home, she would talk to Tyler. She would tell him about the baby they might have created. She would bare her heart to him, her hopes and dreams. Shuddering with icy premonition, she stepped into the den. After everything she’d done to him, would this misrepresentation of her fertility make him turn away from her? She noted the irony of the situation. He might leave her not because of her ugly face, but because of her ugly lie.

  “Saturday, Sable.” Melissa sat on the arm of the couch and reached out to touch her distraught stepmother. “I can get you the money tomorrow.”

  And for the first time in twenty-two years, her stepmother hugged her.


  HE WAITED until the deep of the night to place the call. He wanted to catch her off balance, at the peak of anxiety. Night had a way of exaggerating everything. The phone barely had a chance to ring once before the tremulous “Hello?” warbled over the line. He smiled.

  “I have your daughter. Do you want her back?” Technically a lie, but he could get hold of her should the situation warrant it.

  “Yes, yes! Oh, God, yes!”

  “Then listen, because I’ll only say this once.” He said his piece, then waited.

  “Don’t make me do this.”

  She was whining. Why did they always have to whine?

  “The choice is yours.”

  The silence was long, but not nearly as long as it should have been. “When?”

  “How soon do you want your daughter back?”

  She gulped, and his smile broadened.

  “What about the ransom?” she asked.

  The math was simple. He’d known the answer all along. For her daughter, she would do anything.

  “Make sure you get that first. It would be a shame to kill for nothing.”

  SATURDAY MORNING the reverend and his followers were deep into Bible recitations when the fax machine spit out Freddy’s background report on Drake West.

  After Sable had left last night, Tyler had faxed a copy of the ransom note to Freddy and asked him to make discreet inquiries. Freddy was not too happy about the fact Tia had not only spotted, but ditched, the man he’d had tailing her. Because Tia’s kidnapping was possibly another maneuver to weaken Melissa, he and Freddy had decided the best course of action was to avoid involving the law for now and pay the ransom.

  “Drake’s family is wealthy,” Tyler said, as he passed the top sheet to Melissa. The scent of roses, wafting through the open window, reminded him of the petal softness of her skin, and his finger lingered on her hand for a moment. How could he possibly want her again so soon? “But Drake’s been cut off.”