by Ink, India
Beside me, Amy drew in a sharp breath. I glanced at her. “What is it?”
“Oh, just that Candy Harrison works for Annabel,” she said, and I could tell she was struggling to keep her voice neutral.
That’s right—Candy Harrison did work for Annabel. That little fact had slipped my mind for the moment. “What do you really think of Candy? I know that Lisa didn’t like her.”
Amy shrugged. “I don’t think much of her, to be honest, but she did watch over Father during his last months.” She blushed and hung her head. “I have the feeling . . . well, he was a man, sick as he was, and I suppose he’d want somebody around who was pretty, though she seems kind of . . . slutty to me.” Her voice lingered over the last, and I raised my eyebrows.
Could Candy be right? Did the Tremont sisters dislike her because they thought their father had been involved with her? My logical side argued that the man had been suffering from cancer, for God’s sake. He probably didn’t have the energy to do anything, let alone play chase the nurse around the bed. But logic didn’t necessarily play into situations where strong emotions were involved. Lisa and Amy hadn’t been able to come home to live until a month or two before their father died. Could guilt be a factor in their dislike of Candy?
“What did your father say about her?” I asked.
Amy’s chin quivered, but her voice remained calm. “He liked her. He said she made him laugh, and I suppose, in the end, that’s all that mattered,” she said tightly, then shrugged and turned back to Kyle.
I walked a little ways toward the base of the cliff. The drop-off was steep, and the side of the cliff was barren except for some scrub trees. It was only a matter of time until the wind and rain eroded the soil enough for one—or more—of those houses to come tumbling down the side as so often happened here in rain-soaked western Washington. People never learned, I thought. They didn’t pay attention to mistakes from the past, and they went right on glibly believing that they would be the exception.
Abruptly, I decided that I wanted to know more about Annabel Mason and the woman she’d hired as her nurse. I turned and headed back to Daphne’s car, thinking that it was time to pay a visit to Winthrop and see if he could help me find out anything.
Kyle was struggling with whether or not to call in volunteers to search the area today or let it rest until tomorrow. “It’s Thanksgiving, and Lisa’s been missing almost a week,” he told me, out of Amy’s earshot. “Sure, the bracelet and hair spray mean she was here, and maybe she didn’t go out on the pier, but it doesn’t tell us where she is, and I doubt if the beach is likely to yield up anything else of value. One more day—”
“One more day might mean the difference between life and death, Kyle,” I said, irritated.
He stared at me point-blank. “Has there been a ransom note?”
I blinked. “What?”
“A ransom note? Has there been any call from kidnappers?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I shook my head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Then she hasn’t been kidnapped for money. And if somebody did snatch her, and it wasn’t for money . . .” He let his voice trail off, but I knew where he was going, and I didn’t like it one bit. He was thinking of Gary Ridgway and Ted Bundy and all the other predators who had frequented our state, luring women into their traps. Those women weren’t kidnapped for money, and few of them made it out alive. Some of them had never been found.
“No,” I whispered hoarsely. “Nobody here would do something that horrible—”
“Bebe Wilcox tried to kill you to protect her burgeoning cosmetics empire. Colleen Murkins and Debbie Harcourt killed Lydia Wang for far less than that. Hell, Elliot came to your house with a gun and was probably going to rape you and then shoot you. And he’s still out there, so you damned well keep your eyes open and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t think that you can always protect yourself, because maybe one of these times it won’t be true. And don’t tell me shit like this doesn’t happen in Gull Harbor, Persia. You know it does.”
Kyle’s lips were pressed together in a tight line, and I realized he was as frustrated over Lisa’s disappearance as the rest of us. I’d assumed he had just written her off to drowning, but apparently he wasn’t quite so blasé as I’d thought.
I let out a long sigh. “You’re right. Things like that happen everywhere. What if she’s hurt, though? What if she wandered off and fell? Maybe tripped somewhere out of the way? There are ravines up there between the houses. What if she went hiking up there for some reason and fell? She could still be alive, but not for much longer with the weather the way it is.”
Frowning, I could see that I had his attention. “It’s a long shot,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense for her to have gone rooting around a ravine on a blustery night like Saturday. And it doesn’t account for the broken bracelet.”
“It makes more sense than someone who’s phobic of water to go wandering alone out on a stormy pier when she can barely skirt a swimming pool with dozens of people around.” I felt a surge of hope. Maybe I was right, maybe I wasn’t just clutching at straws. Lisa had been afraid of water but not of going out in the woods. A ravine between two million-dollar houses wouldn’t seem threatening, would it?
It was enough to jog Kyle into action. He got on his phone and asked for search and rescue volunteers to come comb the beach. Within twenty minutes, three men and two women stood there. Kyle showed them the bracelet, hair spray, and explained the situation. Amy gave them a picture of Lisa.
“Okay, if you would search the ravines around here, and any place where a wounded woman might drag herself to get out of the rain. Be careful, though. We don’t want anybody hurt over this.”
As they split up into two groups and hit the beach, we walked back to our cars. Daphne, Amy, and I rode back together; the men rode back with Kyle. On our way home, Amy lightly touched my arm.
“Persia, thank you,” she said.
“Thank you? For what?”
“For making Kyle look again. For convincing him that my sister’s worth the trouble. For believing that maybe, just maybe, she’s still alive out there and needs us. I appreciate it.”
I gazed into her eyes and saw the conflicting emotions. She liked Kyle, she wanted to believe that he was doing everything he could. But it was obvious that Kyle believed Lisa was dead, and he didn’t have the manpower to mobilize an island-wide search.
I patted her fingers awkwardly, wincing as my shoulder gave a little twinge. “I think she’s out there waiting for us. We just have to find her.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. “She’s still alive. She’s probably just hurt and can’t make it to a phone.”
Daphne remained silent as we pulled into the driveway and headed toward the house. The smell of turkey and cinnamon and sweet potatoes filled the air, and my stomach rumbled. As we climbed the stairs, she paused, motioning for me to wait until everybody else had gone inside.
“I told you that I have a little of the sight—not nearly as much as Bran, but some. Persia, the girl is still alive. I don’t know for how much longer, but her bracelet—when I was holding it, I could sense her. I thought you’d like to know what I felt.”
My heart leapt. For some reason, coming from Daphne, the words gave me more goose bumps than when coming from Bran. Perhaps it was because Daphne seldom said anything frivolous. Or maybe it was because she seemed so much more assured in her world, rock-solid and steady. Whatever the reason, I believed her.
Dinner was wonderful, if a little subdued. Auntie and Trevor had fitted the extra leaves into the dining room table, and it stretched long enough to handle a dozen guests or more. I brought out the good china—Auntie’s Old Country Roses set—and set the table with Daphne’s help. The Smith sisters had polished the silverware, and now everything gleamed as Auntie turned on the stereo and put in a CD of The Planets. Strains of classical music filtered out as we sat, ten at the table, while Kane took over the job of carving the turk
ey.
Amy was a trouper. She tried her best to keep lively, to keep from bringing down dinner, but when we were well into pie and ice cream, Kyle’s cell phone rang, and she jumped, her face a mask of mingled hope and fear.
Kyle moved off to one side to take the call, while I poured hot tea and coffee for those who wanted something to drink with their dessert. We were a subdued lot until he returned, shaking his head.
“They didn’t find much else, although in the scrub brush near the edge of the parking lot—toward the road, not the water—they did discover an eye shadow case. What brand did Lisa use?” he asked.
I knew that one, even before Amy. “Lisa preferred Shiseido.”
His eyes lighting up, he asked, “Do you by any chance know what color she wore?”
“That’s easy. We were discussing our favorite colors last week. She’d just bought a new duo . . . let me think . . .” I drummed my memory for the name of what she’d shown me. Amy looked blank. She didn’t pay much attention to makeup. And then I remembered. “It was called Pomona Lime, I think!”
Kyle spoke quickly into the phone and began to nod. “Yes, yes, that’s it. That belonged to her. Hold on and I’ll be right over.” He folded his phone and shoved it into his pocket. “I’d better get over there. They discovered a—what did you call it—”
“Shiseido,” I said.
“Yeah, a Shiseido Pomona Lime eye shadow compact near the entrance of the parking lot. Looks like it was dropped in some scrub bushes. I’m going over there, and we’ll call in a few more searchers . . . give the place another thorough going over. If she was dropping her makeup, maybe somebody had hold of her and she was trying to leave a trail.”
He looked ready to jump for joy. This was probably the best news he’d heard in days. “Amy, do you want to come with us?”
She was already out of her seat and gathering her things. “Miss Florence, Persia . . . we hate to eat and run but . . .”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, just go!” Auntie tsked. “You think I’m going to worry myself over you leaving early? There might be more to discover; you both need to be there. Persia, did you want to go, too?”
I shook my head. “Actually, I want to give Winthrop a call. He’ll just love working on a holiday, but I need to look up a couple of things, and he’s the one who can tell me how to find out what I want to know.” I turned to Kyle and Amy. “You’ll let us know if anything else surfaces?”
“Of course,” Amy said, kissing me on the cheek. “Thank you, Persia. Thank you, Daphne. Without the two of you, we wouldn’t have found her bracelet and hair spray and now, the eye shadow. You don’t know how much I appreciate all of your help.”
“Thank us when she’s home, safe,” Daphne said.
I saw them out, then quietly stood there, staring out the door. Auntie and the Smith sisters were clearing the table, Trevor doing his best to help. Somewhere, Lisa was out there. And so was Elliot. One, I prayed we’d find safe and healthy. The other, I prayed we’d find before he found me. Sighing, I looked up at Killian, who was standing behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on the top of my head, gently rocking me back and forth.
“I hate to do this, but I can’t stay the night after all. I have to pack and get ready for my trip.”
I turned in his arms. “I wish you didn’t have to go, but I want you to fly back there and seal the deal.”
“Promise me you’ll be on your guard. That jerk is out there, somewhere, with a gun. I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night saying that he’s broken in, or that you’re in the hospital . . . or worse.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, and we were kissing then, deep and long, as his hands sought my back, my ass, my breast.
I didn’t care if Auntie or Kane saw us, or Daphne, the Smith sisters, or Trevor. I didn’t care about anything except making sure we got in a last kiss. With everything that had happened this past week, I wasn’t feeling too confident. And truth be told, I was more than a little nervous about him flying back East. But I didn’t want him to see my worry. He had enough on his mind already.
“I’ll be okay,” I said, pushing him back. “I’m going to be fine. And we’ll find Lisa. And Elliot will make some stupid mistake that will give him away. Everything’s going to work out. It always does.” Even as I said the words, I knew that I didn’t believe them, but I had to pretend, for both our sakes, that they were true.
Killian reluctantly hugged Auntie good-bye, shook hands with Trevor and Kane, and waved to the Smith sisters and Daphne. He slid on his jacket and, with one last kiss, was out the door.
I raised my hand, wishing he could come back, wishing that Thanksgiving had been a better holiday. We’d been straining to pretend everything was okay, yet it wasn’t. I waved as Killian pulled out of the driveway.
As I returned to the living room, Auntie shot me a look that told me she knew exactly what was on my mind. She bustled over and put her arm around my waist, whispering in my ear as she bundled me off toward the kitchen. “Killian will be home in a week with the money to start his business. And we’ll find Lisa, never you worry about that.”
As soon as I could, I headed to the den, where I put in a call to Winthrop. As I’d predicted, he wasn’t exactly overjoyed to hear from me on a holiday, but when I explained what had happened, he relented.
“After all, it’s not as though I’ve got family here for the holiday,” he said, and I immediately thought that we should invite him over for Christmas, if he had no other plans. “What do you need, kiddo?”
“As much information on Annabel Mason and Candy Harrison as you can dig up, especially Candy.”
I could hear him jotting something down, then he said, “Got it. This will give me something to do this afternoon, as if I didn’t have enough work. By the way, any word on Elliot yet?”
“No,” I said, automatically glancing toward the window. “Not a word. He could be anywhere. I can only hope he managed to catch the ferry and leave the island.”
“Let’s hope they catch his ass and beat it raw,” Winthrop said. “I’ll call you when I’ve dug up anything good about these two.”
As I hung up, the gloom seemed to settle around my shoulders, but I knew Auntie was trying to hold the day together, so I plastered a smile on my face and rejoined everyone in the living room. Kane and Trevor returned from their scouting mission, reporting that sightings of Elliot had been negative, and we tuned into an old movie—Holiday Inn—as the rest of the day passed without incident.
By nine PM, we’d seen everyone out. Kane had to go home for the night, and since Elliot hadn’t reared his ugly head, we decided to just lock the doors and keep a close eye on the place. With the thickness of the doors—they were the ones that had originally come with the house—we felt fairly secure that we’d be okay. After everyone left, Auntie and I sat in front of the fire, talking. She’d made turkey pitas for us for dinner, thick with cranberry sauce and cream cheese and slivered almonds, and we were eating on TV trays as we prepared to watch An Affair to Remember.
“Tomorrow we’ll get the Christmas decorations up, Imp. Tawny and Betsy Sue will handle the store. I made sure that we wouldn’t be offering any hair, makeup, or fragrance consultations.”
“How’s Maxine working out?” I asked. I hadn’t paid much attention to our second choice for Lisa’s position.
“She’s fine, but Lisa’s got a touch to her work . . . I do hope she’s safe, wherever she is. Trevor’s coming over tomorrow to help us decorate. His girlfriend won’t be back until Sunday.”
I nodded, my mouth full of sandwich. As she readied the DVD, I swallowed. “Barb and Dorian have patched things up. At least we can thank Elliot for that.” A glance at the fire told me it needed more wood, which I pointed out to Auntie. My shoulder was still bruised and aching. She piled another log on the flames, while I poured two glasses of white wine.
The phone rang as we were readying ourselves with tissues and the remote.
Auntie answered, then handed it to me. It was Winthrop.
“I’ve got some notes for you. I’ll type them up and e-mail them to you, but here they are in a nutshell.”
“I’m listening,” I said, taking a drink of wine to clear my throat.
“As you know—or may not know—Annabel is married to Lloyd Mason, who is a good fifteen years her junior. He was a lawyer until he retired early upon their wedding, but I can tell you he wasn’t a very good one. I ran up against him in court a couple times and trounced his ass without so much as a blink.”
I digested this bit of information. “Does he have money?” I asked, wondering if he’d married Annabel for her money or for love.
“Nothing to account for on his own. But he doesn’t have Annabel’s money, either. I happen to know that he agreed to a fairly stiff prenup agreement. That’s common knowledge, actually, so I’m not violating any confidence there.” He sounded so serious that I almost laughed but didn’t. It was his job to maintain dignity and a manner befitting Gull Harbor’s best lawyer, and I understood that.
