“A week ago, he had a buying trip he wanted to go on before we left for our honeymoon trip.”
“Where did he go?” David raised a brow, he used a pencil, and had it poised above the paper. “Could his plane have been delayed?”
“When was he supposed to be in New York?” Gabe shot his question off as if afraid he wouldn’t get a word in if he didn’t hurry. “What airport, airline?”
She should have thought to bring her own damn notebook to take down the questions. God. “He went to Brussels, he had a contact that informed him of a priceless piece.”
No one said anything, clearly they were all waiting for her to tick off the rest of the answers. Matt, her brother sat to her left, nudged her leg and when she turned toward him he winked. Matt of all people knew what it felt like to be under the scrutiny of the Cloak and Dagger part of the family. She smiled and turned her attention to the conversation. Might as well give all the information they need, the faster to get this over and go lick her wounded pride in private.
Because she finally realized that she was actually relieved and it was just humiliating to be the one left at the altar.
“He was supposed to come in last night, but when I called he didn’t answer.” She gave a shrug. “Then I went with Jessica to do some last minute grocery shopping.”
“And you never tried again?” Keira, her law enforcement sister-in-law asked.
It must be a telling sign to her family when she wasn’t anxious, most couples were inseparable before their wedding. Yet the night before their wedding she hadn’t even wondered why he didn’t call when he received her message. Nor had he thought to let her know if he’d arrived safe.
“It wasn’t uncommon for him not to return my calls. When he left, he said not to be surprised if he didn’t call.” She grinned. “He said it would make things more exciting when we saw each other for the first time at our wedding.”
Her grin faded, was he hurt somewhere?
“What airport and airline?” Gabe repeated his question.
“JFK and Delta.”
“I’ll go make some calls.” Christine her oldest sister stood and paused. “Do you know where he was going to stay last night?”
It would have made more sense had he stayed in Brooklyn, but Lance was a snob and had to stay in Manhattan. It didn’t matter that Brooklyn was an up and coming city with all the millennials fleeing the crowded city.
“The Grand Hyatt on 42nd.”
Christine raised a brow but didn’t say anything, just turned. Glenna assumed she would call the airport and the hotel. If she were going to lose a bridegroom, at least her family had the knowledge and the contacts to find that person and bring him home.
The question was, did she want them to?
Conversation around the table turned to of all the possibilities of what could have happened. Much like the research sessions she’d loved when she’d been attending Stanford University.
Tyler had already filled two pages with likelihoods to follow up on.
Christine came through the arch from the family room and walked straight to Glenna, placed a hand on her shoulder. Dread galloped along Glenna’s skin to settle in the pit of her stomach.
“His name was not on any of the flight manifests for flights in from Brussels yesterday.” She squeezed Glenna’s shoulder. “The Grand Hyatt didn’t have a reservation for a Lance Gordon. I had the airline and the hotel check for the last four days including today. Just in case he came in early, or came in this morning.”
Glenna looked round the table, their expressions reflected what she was thinking.
Had he planned to marry her?
Chapter Two
Muscle guy glanced around the room at Glenna’s Surprisingly Vintage. “Are you sure the Bellini is here?”
The dark fabric stretched across his body builder frame defining each muscle as he stalked around the room. He stopped to finger a delicate ballerina that looked out of place in his large gloved hand. He’d grown to appreciate the delicateness of the figurines and art that he’d come to love in the last ten years.
When he’d joined the Yacht Club de Monaco, he’d been so excited. He’d never imagined that years later he’d take it all for granted.
The day it had all started, seemed like just yesterday.
Bored. The four of them had been so bored. All of them had more money than they knew what to do with, which their wives and girlfriends took great delight in spending. There they were sitting around tossing back shots of fifty-year old Yamazaki whiskey—the cost of one bottle more than most people’s homes—as if it were two buck chuck. Or was that three buck chuck now?
The women had gone out shopping. The exclusive boutique shops, on the French Riviera, had monthly themes. That month had been cat burglars, for some unknown reason. The women had all been giggling about buying slinky and chic black dresses, and strappy shoes when they’d left.
He glanced down his solid body at his attire, dressed for that same theme. That had been what had started the idea rolling, until here they were, ten years later. The Black Cats. Looking for a priceless painting that had been stolen during the Nazi occupation.
The three men stood in the store room that doubled as the shop office. The fourth man waited in the car with the engine running and ready to flee. They’d delayed until closing and well after dark, before entering. It came in handy that Stocky Guy was a lock expert, as having been a locksmith during University. Who needed to break in when they could walk in, get what they wanted, and then lock up and no one the wiser?
“Yeah, I bought Gordon a couple of drinks, flirted with him,” the stocky one said in disgust. “So not my type. If I were gay, that is. The guy loved to brag so it didn’t take long to find out that he was after the Madonna and Child. He even had a buyer.”
“How did he know it was here?” The tall lankly beach boy type, out of place in his black clad garb, asked as he continued to search through items in the box they’d found stored in a corner.
Brought back to the present by the questions floating around him by his closest friends muscle guy answered. “Didn’t you say he’d found the piece at some estate sale?”
“Yeah, except when he got to the sale someone had already purchased it. He found the manifest and followed the new owner here. She’s the proprietor, Glenna Beckett,” stocky said.
“Convenient she’s out of town.” This from the lanky guy.
“Gordon’s idea. He somehow convinced her to marry him.” Stocky chuckled.
Lanky guy turned to him. “I thought he was gay? You did said you flirted with him.”
“Yes to both. Apparently she didn’t know that, because he played her and now she’s back east, and we’re one step ahead of him.” Again stocky let out a chortle.
“Let’s get the art and get out of here. I checked Gordon’s flight and he should be here soon.” Muscled guy moved with deceptive calm.
A rattling of keys sounded in the door, and the light flaring nearly blinded the three men standing in the center of the office.
The woman’s scream broke the silence. She turned to flee but stocky guy slammed the door shut. Like a wild person she kept screeching and ran through to the show room. The three men followed.
“We just don’t have time for this,” the lanky guy declared.
Before muscle guy could stop his friend, the other man pulled his gun out and shot her execution style.
“What the fuck?” muscle guy said. “Are you crazy, The Black Cats may have a reputation for going to extremes to get what they want, but we’ve never killed anyone.”
Stocky guy seemed to be frozen in place staring at the woman who only seconds before had been alive, vital, and very beautiful. He looked up at his other friend, the moisture in his eyes sparkled through the black mask.
“There was no need, Jason. Fuck.”
Muscle guy tensed and turned. “No names, I don’t care if we’re the only one’s here. There’s surveillance, which has caught thi
s whole scene for the viewing joy of others, and it could have audio.”
Placing a hand over his ear piece he spoke to the fourth man still in the car. “And we’re supposed to have a warning. You fall asleep at the wheel?”
The other two looked at him and nodded. What started out as an evening of enjoyment for their favorite hobby, finding the treasure and selling it to the highest bidder, just turned deadly serious. After a moment a voice in their ear pieces sounded.
“I swear to God no one has been on the sidewalk since you went in the side door. No one went through the front door. No car drove in. I had no clue about a surprise guest until you did.”
All three stood staring at the woman as if she’d magically get up and walk away. Then muscle guy sighed.
“Let’s get the piece, get the hell out of here.” Muscle guy continued to look around the store room. “It’s not in here. I swear we’ve looked everywhere. Where did that real estate dude say there was a hidden storage?”
There was a pause as all of them thought back over their planning conversations. Lanky guy scratched around his neck as if the ski cap rubbed him the wrong way. “I’m not sure he actually said where, just that in his experience of the area several shop owners have maintained the cellars for storage that were built into their establishments during the prohibition. He knew this was one of them. He did however say, the entrance to the storage was hidden.”
Stocky guy snorted. “He knew?”
“I’ll take another look in the back, see if I can find any hidden nook.” Lanky guy, who’d been called out as Jason, walked swiftly through the door into the office area.
Muscle guy and stocky guy stayed away from the body and the windows and then moved toward the back office going out the back way they’d entered.
“Nothing here.” Lanky guy said as he returned. “I don’t know where there could be a hidden storage area. There’s no trap doors, nothing. I even looked in the closet.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
The three stood at the back door, while lanky beach boy, Jason, opened then leaned out to scope the area. “Come on, I can see the car over there under the trees.”
No one spoke as they made it to the sidewalk and across the road. At the late hour no one seemed to be around. The bar scene was farther south on Fairway. They were on the north end, where it seemed everyone had hunkered in for the evening.
When they climbed in the car, muscle guy ordered his friend at the wheel to get them the hell out of there. Once out of the area, as if orchestrated, they pulled off their ski masks.
“Did you get the Bellini?” The driver asked.
“No, there was no fucking storage area either.” Muscle guy punched the back of the seat.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror to lock eyes with muscle guy. “Yes there is, that agent said he had been down in the basement, before it was a store. There’s no guarantee the owner uses it, but it would be a waste of space not to.”
“Waste of space? What are you a designer or something?” Stockier asked.
There was no answer from the driver as he concentrated on the road until he pulled in front of the only five-star hotel they could find in Calistoga, The Solage.
During the drive, the men had replaced their black turtlenecks with dress shirts, their black jeans finished off the look of casual elegance.
The driver had already been in his dress shirt and black jeans. They took turns being the one left in the car to drive for a quick getaway if needed. “God, from the sound of it, I’m glad it was my turn to drive. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I’d be squeamish witnessing a shooting.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Jason?”
*****
Home. Glenna paid the driver, grabbing her bag out of the back seat before the man had a chance to help. As she walked up the drive she savored the sight of her small cottage on 3rd Street only a few streets north of the main drag, Lincoln Avenue. She dropped her suitcase on the postage stamp size porch and took a moment to survey her neighborhood and appreciate the cool fall evening.
She let herself in and smiled. She loved her home. It may be small, but it was hers. She would unpack and make a quick dinner and have an early night. She probably should check on Glenna’s Surprisingly Vintage, but she trusted Alexis Hansen her assistant to keep things in order. One of the most organized and business minded people she knew, Alex would have called if she’d had any problems. Morning was soon enough to get her head back on the job.
She needed one more night. Time when there was no family, no one to try to comfort her. A loud hammering on her door made her sigh. So much for being alone. Effie probably thought she needed company. She finished hanging up the blouse she’d just placed on the hanger. When she opened the door it wasn’t her friend, but her crotchety old neighbor.
“Mr. Barlow.”
Glenna felt guilty when she saw Agnes, her tabby, in his arms. She’d forgotten to retrieve her precious cat from him. Poor thing. She reached for the furry bundle in the nick of time, as he practically threw the feline at her.
“Here’s your damn cat.” Without another word he turned to stomp to his house next door.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” she called after him.
He didn’t so much as miss one stomp before she heard the bang of his screen door. She swore she heard him cuss before the slam of the inner door shut him in for the night.
She gave Agnes a squeeze and scratched her head, the cat purred in delight. “I’m sorry I left you so long with Mr. Grumpy Pants. Come on, let’s give you some dinner.”
After she finished her unpacking and ate dinner, she settled in her favorite spot, to read one of her many romance novels. Unfortunately, her mind wasn’t on the pages. Instead it wandered over the last week.
Thank God her family had offered to return all the gifts that had arrived at the Elders home prior to the wedding, or the non-wedding as her mind had labeled it. She wasn’t sure if she’d been able to stand taking care of that chore. By the time she’d left Brooklyn her stomach had been a firestorm.
Her parents had insisted she stay a few days with them until they could locate her missing fiancé. Her family prided themselves on having the crème de la crème of law enforcement, and yet they had not found a trace of Lance.
One thing kept nagging at her. He had wanted to marry her. He was the driving force to get the deed done. Glenna had been the one to drag her feet. On reflection, she realized in her heart something was off.
She stood to pace her small living room, her mind still reaching for clues. She stopped in the middle of the room, Agnes let out a soft meow as if she understood her muddled thoughts.
“What did Lance want?”
The cat wound her way into a figure eight pattern between Glenna’s ankles. She waited until the cat cleared the danger zone before resuming her pacing. There was something at Glenna’s that Lance had been searching for, if she could figure out what that was then maybe she’d find him.
Again she stopped.
“Do I want to find him?”
She needed some sleep. There hadn’t been much of that since her aborted wedding day, and though Alex had most likely kept everything running smooth at the shop there were invoices, receipts and a whole host of other items waiting for her.
Hours later, she still stared at the ceiling longing for sleep. She was more than tired, she was exhausted yet her mind kept going over the events of the last month. In hindsight, there were so many signs that should have shown her not to marry Lance. How had she missed them all?
She’d met him the year before last at the annual Calistoga Lighted Tractor Parade. An event that she’d loved since her first Christmas in the valley. She had loved the look of him, so urban and yet metrosexual at the same time. With his sleek expensive gray suit with a man bun, he just looked so sophisticated. Her family, especially her brothers, hadn’t been as charmed by his looks, they’d dubbed him bun boy.
Lanc
e had been holding, or more like gripping, his coffee and muttering about how could he have known this was the backwoods? This was Napa Valley for God’s sake.
He was not impressed with the vehicles and their individuality in the creative lighting covering the rigs. She pretended not to have heard him mutter and asked him where he was from. They’d had a short conversation, only after he’d decided she wasn’t a backwoods hick. But after only a few more trucks he’d tossed his to-go mug in the trash and strode angrily away. She never had found out what had made him attend the parade if he had felt so strongly against it.
What wasn’t to like? Lots of festivities, bright lights, Christmas cheer, and where else could you find Gingerbread and wine pairing? She laughed just thinking about it.
She rolled to her side and punched her pillow and willed herself to sleep. It didn’t work. A moment later, she was remembering how the next day he’d entered her shop. At the time, she’d was surprised to see him. She welcomed him like she did everyone. And he complimented her shop and she offered to show him around some of her treasures. He started flirting with her, in such an old world way. She’d been surprised because she had been positive he was gay.
She went along with the banter. She’d even taken him into her store room, something she never did.
She sat up. There was something about his expression when he’d scanned the room, it had been searching for sure, but... What had he seen or not seen? It was just out of her grasp.
She glanced at the clock. Five in the morning. Her brain was racing to pinpoint that fleeting feeling she’d had that first morning Lance had visited her shop. There would be no sleep. She threw the covers back and made herself get up for the day.
After she showered and had her first cup of coffee she sort of felt human. It was going to be a long day. She checked the cat food in the automatic feeder and made sure water filled the bowl. As if the feline could smell food on the horizon she edged her way around the door frame and then rubbed around Glenna’s ankles.
“Agnes you be good while I’m gone.” She scratched behind the gray tabbies ears.
Abandoned (The Beckett Series Book 6) Page 2
