by T. I. Lowe
Something snapped inside Crowley as he shot to his feet. “After everything that woman has been through . . . if she wants cake, then you let her eat cake!”
Lulu flinched. “Crowley Mason, you will never holler at me like that again, young man. I know you’re devastated by all this. I am too, but cake won’t fix what’s broken in that poor girl.” She paused to calm her voice before continuing. “You think putting about a hundred pounds back on is any good for her?”
“I don’t care . . . if it makes her feel better,” he said wearily. “I just want her happy. She deserves to be happy.”
“Did she look like it was working for her when she arrived here last year?” Lulu asked.
Images of the broken woman flashed before Crowley’s eyes. That man had to have beaten her within an inch of her life. He shook the painful images away and stormed off in the direction of his office. He was determined to fix whatever mess Leah was in—he just didn’t know how yet.
Crowley went straight to his kitchen and started brewing a pot of strong coffee. At the moment he was running on pure adrenaline and anger, but he knew he would eventually crash from that and would need the caffeine to help him get through the work ahead.
He stormed into his office and powered up his desktop computer as well as his laptop. There were still a lot of puzzle pieces missing from Leah’s story that Crowley would have to figure out on his own.
Crowley called Matt as he poured his first cup of coffee and asked for his help. Matt promised to get on it immediately and call Crowley back with any news. He sat at his desk and tried to shake off as much emotion as possible so he could focus on making things right for Leah.
Crowley had enough information gathered and had a flight booked to Washington by the time the first hints of sunlight appeared. Matt had called a few of his connections, and his connections had called their connections, which led them to finding the lead investigator of Brent and Gabriella Sadler’s case. The investigator eagerly agreed to meet Crowley at the airport.
With all the trip details settled, Crowley powered down his laptop and placed it in his briefcase with the other information. He pushed away from his desk and headed upstairs to pack a carry-on bag and to shower.
After dressing in a button-down shirt, jeans, and a pair of casual brown leather shoes, Crowley grabbed a blue sports jacket and his bags and headed out. He made a pit stop at the café to check on Leah before heading to the airport. He found Lulu in Leah’s normal spot behind the counter. The café was still empty.
“You’re up early,” Lulu said as she eyed him closely. “Or maybe it’s time for bed.”
“Where’s Leah?”
“She hasn’t come down yet.” Lulu poured a cup of coffee and placed it before him. “After yesterday’s breakdown I told her to take the day off.”
Crowley’s eyes wandered toward the stairs.
“Just let her have some space, okay?”
With his gaze still glued in the direction of the stairs, Crowley reluctantly agreed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got a flight to catch anyway. Can I get some coffee and a sandwich to go?”
“Where you heading?” Lulu asked as she began toasting an English muffin.
“I’m heading to Washington. I don’t intend on coming back until I fix this mess for Leah.” He watched Lulu assemble his sandwich. He softly placed his hand on top of hers to still her. “Miss Lulu, I love you dearly and am completely ashamed of myself for how I talked to you yesterday. It was very disrespectful. I hope you can forgive me,” he said sincerely.
Lulu placed her other hand over his massive one and stared into his somber eyes. “Honey, you were disrespectful, but if you ever had an excuse to act that way, it was definitely yesterday. I love you too. And you know I have already forgiven you.” She squeezed his hand before releasing it to finish his breakfast.
Crowley bent down and inspected the partially eaten cake sitting in the display case.
Lulu shook her head. “Whatcha reckon I ought to do with that? It’s pretty good. I sure hate to have to throw it away.”
“Put it in a to-go box. I have a long few days ahead. I think I could use the extra sugar boost.”
Lulu did as he asked, slicing it before sliding it into a container and handing it over to him.
Crowley gathered everything and placed a kiss on Lulu’s cheek. He looked back at the staircase, hesitant about leaving without seeing Leah. “Tell her I’m going to take of things, and I’ll be back in a few days.”
Lulu nodded. “Be careful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Crowley slipped out the door and set out on a mission.
25
CROWLEY’S PLANE TOUCHED DOWN in Olympia, Washington, late Tuesday afternoon. As he made his way through the terminal’s waiting area, he spotted a bald-headed man in a blue suit who fit the description of the investigator. He glanced up from a file in his hand and seemed to recognize Crowley as well.
“Crowley Mason?” he asked, his hand outstretched.
Crowley shook his hand. “That’s me.”
“I’m Detective Mitch Collins. I hear you’ve found our girl.” He tapped the thick file he was holding.
“I may have. That’s why I’ve flown out here.” There was no way he was admitting anything to this man.
Mitch quietly chuckled. “Spoken like a true lawyer. Let’s go get to work.” He led Crowley out of the airport to a waiting late-model sedan and opened the trunk for the carry-on bag.
As both men got situated in the car, Mitch told Crowley the plan. “I figured the best thing for us to do is head on over to the Sadlers’ loft, and I can fill you in on the investigation from there.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to the swanky loft. Mitch led Crowley through the garage, where a Range Rover and Mercedes sports coupe sat abandoned.
Mitch motioned to the Range Rover. “That is Mrs. Sadler’s vehicle. It was found with the passenger and driver’s doors open.”
As Crowley followed Mitch up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same set of stairs that Leah had been thrown down. His gut told him yes.
Mitch unlocked the door to reveal a modern space that looked more like a museum than a home. He stopped in the foyer and shuffled through a stack of photographs he pulled from the file. “A cleaning crew came in and scrubbed the place clean, so I brought along the photos.” He handed one over to Crowley. It was a picture of the foyer with a few drops of blood on the white floor. “A grocery delivery guy arrived at one o’clock that day with an order. He found the front door wide open, noticed some blood on the floor, and called the police.” Mitch pointed to the blood. “Those were probably from some superficial wounds. We think a small scuffle between the spouses happened here and then moved to the bedroom.”
Mitch led Crowley deeper into the loft to the master bedroom. The bedding and mattress had been removed. He motioned Crowley to join him in the large walk-in closet, where he handed over a few more pictures. Crowley looked each one over. One showed a full shot of a tousled mess with clothes pulled down and glass shattered all over the floor with bloody footprints leading out. Another photo was a close-up of one of the bloody footprints.
Mitch tapped the photo. “The footprint is the same size as Mrs. Sadler’s foot.”
“Where did the glass come from?” Crowley asked as he imagined Leah cornered in the space, frightened.
“A bourbon bottle. Rumor has it that Mr. Sadler was quite a fan of the stuff. The autopsy proved that he was pretty pickled.” Mitch pointed out a bloody towel thrown on the floor in one of the photos. “This was still damp, so we think Mrs. Sadler tried to clean up before disappearing.”
With that comment, Mitch directed Crowley to the master bath next and handed over more photos of the crime scene. These photos showed more bloody footprints as well as bloody streaks along the wall and floor. Crowley figured she’d been stumbling around, unsteady on her feet. Another shot showed the white shower floor spattered with blood and a few bloody t
owels scattered on the floor.
Mitch moved back into the bedroom and stood by the bed frame. He hesitated before handing Crowley the stack of photos. “These are of Brent Sadler’s body.”
Crowley nodded and held out his hand. “I’ve survived some pretty gruesome murder trials, Mr. Collins. I think I can handle it.” He accepted the photos from Mitch.
Crowley studied the first photo. The man was older than he’d expected. Instead of seeing a dead man in his twenties, he saw one in his forties. The dead man stared blankly at the camera with empty eyes as he lay in an odd position on his side. Some more glass was shattered by the bed, and blood streaked the pillow beside Brent’s head.
Crowley flipped through to another image in which the white cover had been moved to expose a puddle of blood in the center of the mattress.
“You want to know the wildest part about all of this?” Mitch asked.
Crowley continued to stare at the nightmare Leah had lived out, captured in the photos. “What’s that?” he asked quietly.
“Of all this blood, not one drop belonged to Mr. Sadler.”
Crowley looked up from the photo. “How’s that possible if she killed him?”
“Who said she killed him?”
“What?” Crowley’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Mrs. Sadler didn’t kill her husband. There was a blunt force blow to his head that probably knocked him out. The shattered glass in this photo was a crystal vase. The autopsy showed that he died of a massive heart attack.” Mitch slid the autopsy report out of the file and handed it over to Crowley.
“The man was the epitome of health. He was known to be disciplined with diet and exercise. Hard to believe a heart attack took him out at only forty-five years of age.”
Crowley handed the autopsy report and pictures back and shook his head. “I thought this was a murder investigation.”
“No. This is a missing person’s investigation. The grocery guy told the police he was delivering to Mrs. Sadler, which the store manager confirmed. Of course, she’d vanished into thin air. But there’s more to it than that.” Mitch gestured for Crowley to follow him. “Come on. There’s something else you need to see.” He led him into the guest bedroom and over to the closet door.
Crowley noted the two sets of locks on the door, one on the knob and another at the top of the door. It was all he could do to control his rage. The realization that he was standing at the door of her prison punched him hard in the stomach. Seeing it in person overwhelmed him. He was about to head out of the room, but Mitch motioned him to take a look inside.
“We found a coffee can that appeared to be used as a portable toilet. Food and bottles of juice and water were strewn around. It looks as though Mrs. Sadler may have spent a good bit of time locked in here.” He fished a well-worn Bible out of a pillowcase and handed it to a shaken Crowley. Crowley tucked it under his arm as Mitch continued to explain his findings. “Baby wipes, a toothbrush, and toothpaste were found tucked in a shoe box. A flashlight and wristwatch were under a sleeping bag. We also found—”
“Dear God,” Crowley said, voice quaking. His vision blurred as his pulse throbbed in his ears.
Mitch pointed at the unassembled light fixture. “Guess he didn’t allow her to have a light.”
“I need to get out of here,” Crowley mumbled as he headed outside, still clutching the Bible. He thought he could tough it out like any other case, but with it being so personal he just couldn’t bear it.
Mitch joined him by the car a few moments later after locking the loft up. “The children’s home that Mrs. Sadler helped to build is only a few miles down the road. Would you like to go?” he asked.
“Leah. Her name is Leah Allen,” Crowley corrected. “What do you mean she helped to build?” he asked as they reloaded the cramped car.
“Leah sponsored numerous charity events to raise funds to build the home and was there to assist in any way from the very beginning. It seemed to be the only thing the husband allowed her to do. The director actually reported her missing a few days after the grocery guy called the police.” Mitch started the car and headed for the children’s home.
Mitch pulled up to a cheery-yellow two-story home with a colorful sign in the front yard that said New Hope Children’s Home. Small lettering underneath it read Where Everyone Can Feel at Home.
They walked in, and Mitch introduced Crowley to the director, an older lady named Sue. She gladly gave him a tour after he explained who he was and his affiliation with Gabriella while Mitch waited outside.
She led him to a wall of framed pictures. He spotted a redheaded Leah in one right away. She stood in the midst of a bunch of kids, who all had grins lighting up their faces. The caption explained First Day Home with Founder Mrs. Gabriella Sadler. They moved farther down the hall until Crowley spotted another picture of Leah, a couple of years older and a bit heavier than in the first photo. She stood behind a group of kids on a large playground. She was smiling along with the children, but her eyes seemed lifeless. This caption read Playground Completion Celebration.
After Crowley inspected the pictures, Sue led him into a large game room, where a birthday party was under way. She pointed out a group of women standing by the cake table.
“Those women volunteered a good bit with Gabby, if you would like to ask them any questions. I have a few board members waiting in my office, but take your time.” Sue reached over and placed her hand on Crowley’s arm. “Please tell Gabby we miss her terribly and are so relieved she’s okay.”
He smiled and offered his hand. “It was nice meeting you, and I will definitely tell her. Hopefully she and I can make a trip back out this way soon.”
“That would be wonderful. Please do so.” She shook his hand before hurrying off.
Crowley turned back to the cheerful room with kids running around and playing party games. He studied the table of women. They looked like bored trophy wives needing something to do to fill their time.
An announcement for the kids to go outside to the bouncy inflatables sent the little ones barreling toward the door. Crowley smiled at how quickly the room cleared.
He glanced back at the group of women, trying to decide whether to head out or speak with them. A leggy brunette caught him looking and turned to her friends and mouthed something. Before he could decide what to do, three of the women sashayed over to him.
“Are you the Crowley Mason?” the leggy brunette asked.
He ran his hand through his tousled hair. “I don’t know about the the part, but yes, my name is Crowley. How might you have known that, ma’am?”
The brunette placed her perfectly manicured hand over her heart. “‘Ma’am’? Oh, my, ladies. We have ourselves a real-life Southern gentleman.” She looked over at her friends and then turned her attention back to Crowley. “You were featured in Cosmo magazine as being one of the top millionaire bachelors in the United States,” the brunette cooed. “My name is Junie, and these are my friends Hannah and Sara. We volunteer here.”
“Nice to meet you.” Crowley shook each lady’s hand. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about—” it pained him to call her this—“Gabriella Sadler.”
Sara adjusted the headband in her dark-blonde hair and waved her hand to dismiss the topic of Gabriella. “That woman was a hot mess. I have no idea what Brent ever saw in her. That man gave her the world, and she couldn’t even keep herself up for him.” She tried to wrinkle her forehead in disgust, but it looked like the Botox wouldn’t allow it.
Her hatefulness toward Leah shocked Crowley, but he didn’t let it show.
“Why? Did they finally find her?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, she’s fine,” Crowley said as he studied his watch. He decided the women weren’t anything but a bunch of hens clucking away and he was wasting his time with them.
“Please tell me that loser isn’t coming back here,” Junie said.
“Why would you call her a loser?” He glanced around t
he room.
“She had the best man in these parts, and she didn’t even take good care of him. If Brent belonged to me, I would have made sure that fine heart of his was in tip-top shape.” She rolled her hips slightly. Her friends snickered.
Crowley looked at the group before him. These women were jealous. He placed his hands in his pant pockets and took a deep breath. He’d had enough of the clucking. He eyed Junie and stated matter-of-factly, “Ma’am, that man was an alcoholic who tortured his wife by locking her up in a closet in their loft. He almost beat his wife to death before God took mercy on her and took him out with a heart attack.” Crowley let that sink in. “If you ladies didn’t spend your time resenting her and casting your judgment, you might have realized she was being abused. She sure could have used someone on her side.”
He turned to walk off but stopped and glanced back at Junie. “You don’t have to worry about me being on any silly bachelor list, ma’am. I’m in love with Gabriella and will be for the rest of my life.” He walked away from the speechless women and headed to the car, where Mitch was waiting for him.
Mitch noticed the haggard look on Crowley’s face. “You feel like grabbing the best cup of coffee and donut in town?”
“Sure. After that, do you think you could drop me off at a hotel? I’ve been up for one . . . two days straight now. It’s catching up with me.”
Mitch drove them over to a retro place called the Donut Diner.
“Cool place, man,” Crowley commented as they walked through the door.
“They bring donuts twice a month to the children’s home, so the director had the police contact them to see if they knew anything on Leah’s whereabouts. Leah visited nearly every Thursday, according to the owner’s daughter, who helps run the place.” Mitch pointed over to a twentysomething strawberry blonde. “There she is now.” Mitch gestured to Crowley. “Shayna, I’d like for you to meet a good friend of Gabby Sadler’s.”
Crowley nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The young woman’s face was full of anguish. “Please tell me Gabby is okay.”
