In the Cards: A Novel (Tricia Seaver Mystery Book 1)

by Amy Isaman

  I glanced at the time on my phone. An hour had already passed. I called Laurel, but she didn’t answer. Maybe service was spotty out here. I stretched and walked around the car a few times.

  In another hour, I started to panic. She wouldn’t answer her phone despite repeated calls. It had been long enough for her to get gas and get back to me.

  I resorted to tracking her which I did when she was a teen and couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of that sooner. But her phone didn’t appear on my tracking. She obviously had no service, or something happened. I waited a bit longer, but she’d been gone too long.

  My heart sped up. I didn’t even know how to call the police here. At home, I’d dial 911 but here? I Googled the Silver Birch Inn and did the only thing I could think of, swallowed my pride, called Darius, and hoped he’d help me.

  Chapter 17

  “TRICIA, TAKE A BREATH. Are you in the car?” Darius spoke as calmly as he could into the phone. None of this made sense.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice shaky. “And Laurel’s gone.”

  “She’s gone? Where’d she go?”

  “To get gas. We ran out. And she never came back. And her phone’s off. Something must have happened to her. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where I am. Or where she is.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but first I need to know where you are.” It took him several minutes to calm Tricia down enough to walk her through pin-pointing her location on her phone.

  “How soon will you be here?” she asked.

  “Hopefully, about forty-five minutes.” Darius tried to speak as slowly and calmly as possible.

  “How are you getting here? Do you have another car?” Her voice sounded high pitched and breathy.

  “My motorbike. I’ll bring an extra helmet for you.”

  Silence.

  “Are you there? Tricia, breathe. It’ll be okay.” He thought she might start to pass-out on him. “We’ll find her. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  “Hurry, please.”

  “I’m on the way.” He clicked end on his phone and ran toward the garage and his bike. Where the hell was Laurel? He didn’t know her well, but leaving her mother on the side of the road, stranded, didn’t sound like something she would do. So, what did that mean? He didn’t know what might have happened to Laurel, and he wasn’t sure how full his tank had been. He was terrible about checking as he rarely drove the damn car.

  He stewed over it the entire ride, weaving through traffic in the city before finally reaching the open road in the countryside. The last thing he wanted to do was alert the police about the tarot cards, but could they explain Laurel missing without mentioning why they were in Wendover in the first place? He hoped his aunt hadn’t reported Tricia stealing the painting.

  He came upon his sedan about six kilometers from his Aunt’s home and four kilometers past the nearest petrol station.

  He waved and pulled his helmet off, so she would know who it was. She didn’t unlock the car until he got close. He pulled open the door and knelt next to her. The first thing he noted was the Knight of Coins tucked in the back of the painting she’d stolen which she gripped tightly on her lap. Speechless, he stared between Tricia and the card, his gaze bobbing back and forth between them like one of those ridiculous bobble head dolls of athletes they gave away at stadiums.

  “Yes, I found card two, but I lost my daughter.” Tears streamed down her face. “I don’t give a damn about the cards. Here.” She picked up the painting and shoved it in his hands. “Your aunt and great-grandmother were right. They’re cursed.”

  Darius put the painting into one of the bags on the side of his bike as gently as possible. Thankfully, it was a miniature, and it fit, though it was tight. He had nothing else with him to protect the card or the painting. Then, he pulled Tricia from the car. He wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll find her. I’m sure there’s an explanation for it.” Her body felt stiff and didn’t soften at all in his embrace. He led her toward the bike and placed the helmet on her head, tightening the strap.

  Tricia stood awkwardly next to the motorcycle. “I’ve never been on one.”

  “Just hold tight around my waist. I’ve ridden for years. You’ll be fine.”

  “Where are we going? To the police in London?”

  “No, the closest police department is here.”

  On the way, they searched for any sign of Laurel and also stopped at the nearest garage, the one Laurel was heading for, but the employee recently started his shift and hadn’t seen any single young women come in for petrol. Maybe she hitchhiked? Been picked up by someone and decided to stay with them? That didn’t sound like her at all, or the little he knew of her. Why hadn’t she called? The only conclusion he could reach was that the young woman had been abducted. A pit lodged in his stomach. Nothing about this felt right. Tricia had lost her husband, and her children were everything to her.

  The building which housed the police department looked much like one of the brick houses lining the side streets, but the police cars in the front clearly marked the place. Tricia grasped him so tightly on the ride that he hadn’t worried at all that she’d fall off. As they walked in, she still clung to his hand, desperate and almost crushing it. She was using him as her anchor. He never had someone need him in such a desperate situation.

  By the time they finished filing the report and meeting with the constable on duty, Christopher West, her grip hadn’t lessened. The police would begin looking and possibly follow up at the petrol station, but Constable West kindly explained that it wasn’t illegal for an adult to not contact their mother, though he agreed that the entire thing felt suspicious. Tricia emailed him pictures of Laurel off of her phone, but Laurel had taken her backpack with her which held her I.D. and money.

  Constable West handed Tricia his card. “We’ll be in touch if we find out anything. You, too. Anything you think of, anything at all, please let me know. The more information we have, the better.”

  Tricia nodded. “Like a curse?”

  “Come again?” The constable said.

  “I mean a curse. I know this sounds crazy, but we had a tarot reading and there’s this other tarot card, and I think it’s cursed, and somehow, I’ve gotten the curse.”

  Constable West’s eyes swiveled to Darius, his eyebrows raised. “Uh, a curse, you say?”

  Darius inwardly groaned. How to explain this whole thing? “Well, I shared a family legend with Tricia about an old tarot card.” He shrugged, wanting to allay the officer’s concerns as well as honor Tricia’s justified worry. “We spent this afternoon with my Aunt Irene, who was talking about the curse. She believes in it. My aunt is in her mid-seventies and grew up with these stories.”

  “So, you both think Laurel has somehow been cursed by a tarot card and vanished as a result?” West leaned back and rubbed his chin. “I’ll be honest. I’m not sure how to investigate that.”

  “Right.” Darius stood and pulled Tricia from her chair. “Please keep in touch.”

  A sob broke from Tricia as they walked from the station. “She’s gone. My baby’s gone,” she whispered. “How did I lose her? Why did I let her go alone?”

  “This isn’t your fault. Who knows? Maybe her phone died, and she’s back at the car right now, as we speak. We’ll head back that way.”

  Tricia climbed back on the bike. Darius lifted the helmet to her head when her phone rang. “Oh, thank God, maybe it’s Laurel.” She fumbled as she pulled it from her purse. “I, I don’t know this number.” She showed the phone to Darius. A London number.

  “Answer it. It’s a London call. Maybe she lost her phone.”

  “Hello? Laurel? Is that you?” Tricia held the phone tightly to her ear, so Darius couldn’t hear a word that Laurel said. He didn’t think it was possible, but Tricia’s face paled even further as her hands began to shake and her grip on the phone loosened.

  He caught the phone and pressed the button t
o put it on speaker as he wrapped his other arm around Tricia’s shoulder to hold her on the bike.

  “Laurel? Is that you?” Darius asked.

  “Where’s my mom?” Her voice sounded slow, drugged.

  “She’s right here. I’ve got her,” Darius said softly, his tone belying the sheer panic he felt in his chest. “This is Darius. Where are you?”

  “I don’t know.” He heard her grunt, soft and muffled voices in the background. “They want me to tell you something.”

  “Who’s they?” He asked, fear spiraling down to his gut.

  “No police, or I’ll fall,” she said.

  “You’ll fall? Laurel, what do you mean?” Darius asked.

  She made no noise except for slow deep breathing. Tricia leaned in to the phone to listen.

  “Laurel, talk to me. Tell me where you are,” she said.

  Nothing.

  Tricia tried again. “Laurel, sweetheart, what do you mean, you’ll fall?”

  “They want you to give them all four cards by tomorrow at 5:00 or she says I’ll fall from the tower.” She took a deep breath. “Twenty-four hours.” Her final words were faded and wispy, as if she was struggling to stay awake.

  “We don’t have the cards. Tell them that, Laurel. We can’t find them.” Tricia’s voice became high-pitched, desperate.

  Laurel took a slow breath. “I don’t want to fall.”

  Silence.

  “Laurel? Laurel?” Darius shouted into the phone. “Are you there?”

  He stared at the screen. “Call Ended” it said.

  “Oh, God,” Tricia moaned before leaning over and vomiting down Darius’ front. She wiped her sleeve across her mouth with a shaky hand. “My baby. What’s happening?”

  Darius reached for her. “Get off the motorbike. We need to go back in.”

  She pulled her arm from his grasp. “No, didn’t you hear her?” Her voice grew more adamant with each word. “She said ‘no police or she’ll fall.’ We’ve got twenty-four-hours, Darius. We’ve got to find the last two cards.”

  “Tricia, they can help us. We can look for the cards, and they can look for her. It’s what they do. If they find her, we don’t have to frantically search for cards that have been hidden for God knows how many years. They have a better chance than we do.”

  “Don’t say that. Didn’t you hear her? She said she’ll fall. Like the Tower card. She’ll die, Darius. I can’t lose my baby.” Tricia’s voice broke in a sob.

  “She won’t die. We’ll find her, but we need help, Tricia. Think about this logically.”

  “Logically? There’s nothing logical about any of this. We’ve been cursed.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t getting her back into the police station. “Okay then, let’s go back to my aunt’s house and maybe Susan can help us. She knows a lot about the history of these cards.”

  “Susan? What if Susan took her? Remember that Laurel said, ‘she says I’ll fall.’ Did you hear that? Which means a woman has her and as far as I know, Tori and the women in your family are the only ones who know about the card. And, she said ‘they.’ So, there’s more than one of them.”

  Darius shook his head vehemently. “No, it’s not my cousin. And Laurel was clearly drugged. Who knows if it’s a woman or if there’s a group? We don’t know how accurate Laurel was being.”

  “How do you know it’s not your cousin? Or your whole family? They know where we are. They both know what we already found. They watched me steal a painting and probably think I have another card already. This route is the one the navigation in my phone took us on, so they would know exactly how we were getting back to London. Either Susan or Chelsea might have passed Laurel and offered her a ride. Laurel would have gotten in, and they drugged her.”

  Darius began pacing. There was no way.

  Tricia ran her hands through her hair and studied the ground, her forehead tight with the strain as she watched him walk back and forth in front of her. “Maybe you’re right,” she finally said. “We need to go tell Constable West that we know exactly who took Laurel. Where does your aunt live? Or Chelsea? Maybe they’ve got her at Chelsea’s apartment.” She headed toward the station’s main door at a determined pace until Darius caught her arm and turned her to face him.

  “No, we’re not going in there and telling them that my cousin and her daughter abducted Laurel. Besides being completely ridiculous, we have absolutely zero evidence.”

  Tricia dropped her voice and leaned in, her face inches from his. “Well, then, who else knows about the cards? The Tower card, in particular? What about Tori?

  “It’s not Tori, either.”

  “How can you be sure? Tori’s a nurse. She knew we were coming here today. She could have followed us.”

  Darius glared at her. “What about your friend Collin? It could be him. He knows exactly what we have.”

  “He’s a man. Laurel said ‘she.’”

  “He has a wife. What was her name? Lucy? He could definitely use the money from a card, and you know it, Tricia.”

  “And Tori couldn’t? She works two jobs, knows the tarot, and totally understands their value. And, she was a little bit weird.”

  Darius shook his head. “No. It’s not Tori. How could she plan this? She’s not a violent person.”

  “So, Tori’s too much of a peaceful soul. And you trust your family. I trust Collin and Lucy.

  Tricia’s eyes widened and a horrified look crossed her face. “What about that couple at the Inn? The two we saw at the V&A? They overheard us talking when we were in the storeroom, too.”

  Darius tilted his head, thinking, “Ah, the Maxwell’s. They’re still checked in, but they seemed a peaceful sort. I think they were off to tour Westminster Abbey and a few other attractions today.”

  “Or, they could have lied to you and followed us, emptied the gas tank, gotten lucky that you weren’t with us, and taken Laurel.”

  “How could they have planned all of that? They’ve been traipsing around London since they arrived.”

  “How could anyone have planned this? It’s only been a few days.”

  Darius reached for Tricia and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Who the hell has my daughter? And how on earth are we going to find the last two cards?” Her voice cracked again as she began to sob.

  “I’ve got no bloody idea, but we’ve got to try. Or, we give the names of my family and both of our friends to the constable to investigate and risk having Laurel ‘fall,’ whatever the hell that means.”

  “We can’t risk it. I don’t trust anyone. We’ve got to try on our own first.”

  Darius released her from his embrace and forced her to look at him. “What about me? Do you trust me?”

  She took a deep breath before meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, Darius. You know everything about the cards and haven’t made it any secret that you’d like my help finding the cards. The reality is that I don’t know you. But I have no choice but to trust you. Who else is there?”

  “We’ve spent the entire day together until you robbed my aunt. Then, stole my car. I spent hours this afternoon navigating public transportation to get back to my home, only to race back out here on my motorbike to rescue you. Can you smell me? I’m covered in your vomit. Yet, you’re not sure if you can trust me?” He glared at her before grabbing his helmet and jamming it on his head. “Are you coming? Or are you going to rely on Constable West?”

  Tricia looked at the door of the station and back at Darius. “I’m coming. I’m sorry. And thank you for your help.”

  Chapter 18

  I HAD NO CHOICE. If we went back to the police, Laurel could die. Whoever took obviously followed us and knew where we were, so maybe they knew we went to the police even though we hadn’t told them anything about the cards.

  Maybe it was too late already. Panic began to tighten my gut. But I couldn’t think like that. I had to get my daughter back.

  I gripped Darius as he roared through the countryside and fina
lly back into London’s busy streets. I had to get control here. Somebody, who knew about the cards, followed us and took Laurel. How had they known we’d run out of gas? Or did they siphon the tank while we were in Irene’s house? And why not me? Why didn’t I go for the gas? Or why didn’t we go together? Had they just been following us, waiting for a chance to grab one of us?

  On the phone, Laurel’s voice sounded sleepy, drugged. My mind began to traverse down the dark twisted paths that led to every horrible thing I could imagine them doing to her. I could feel a wail rising within me. I’d lost Bret and could very well lose Laurel. I needed to get her. To protect her. But how?

  I raised the visor on the helmet to let the evening air wash over my face and clear my head. We needed a plan. Should we search for Laurel? Or the cards? Who knew about the cards? Collin read the letter and saw the references to the four cards, but he didn’t know we found any of them. Did he? We met with Tori, so she knew about the first one. She was also familiar with the old family legend and even knew where Darius had already searched. And Darius’ family knew. Who else? Had one of them told somebody about them? Had Laurel told the young man she met with about the cards? What about Darius? Was he an amazing actor who had choreographed this nightmare to get me to help him? Had he and Susan plotted it before we arrived? Was that as ridiculous as Darius seemed to think? He’d have had no idea that some random American guest would uncover a priceless treasure in one of his guest rooms.

  Questions bounced through my head, but I focused on them to keep my mind from thinking about Laurel, and what might be happening to her.

  We needed to find those cards. The clues would help us figure that out because Lord knew where she was being held.

  As soon as we arrived back at the Inn, I clicked on the app to track Laurel’s location, but “no location found” was all it said below her name. A fresh onslaught of tears welled up, but I willed them back.