by Dana Mentink
“Do you think Harold slashed the tires?” she whispered back. “Why would he do that?”
“I have no idea. It could be someone else, but why? Anger? To keep him here overnight? It makes no sense.”
She’d started to shiver, so he guided her inside.
“We’ll make up the spare room for you, Mr. Goren,” Sue was saying. “It’s not more than a cot, really, but it’s warm enough. I’ll fix us sandwiches and soup for dinner. Will that suit everyone?”
Stephanie and Tate entered in a swirl of snow with Mack Dog trotting behind.
“That’s some storm,” Tate said.
Luca nodded and gestured for them to follow him into the family room where he filled them in on the police visit and the disabled car.
Tate frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“Me, neither,” Luca said. “Why don’t you strong-arm Mack Dog into staying with Ava tonight.”
“You got it,” Tate said.
Stephanie’s brown eyes sparkled. “Victor found some info for us about the Danson family.”
“How did he do that so fast?” Ava said.
“Victor is a whirlwind when he’s interested in something.”
“So what do you have?”
“The Danson family had roots in Belgium. John’s great-grandfather worked at the university there as a gardener. While they were there, they came into possession of the Sunset Star.”
“How does a gardener get a pearl like that?” Tate asked.
“That’s the romantic part,” Stephanie said. “He married into a wealthy family. His wife, Elizabeth, was smitten by the humble gardener who left roses on her windowsill every day. The Sunset Star was part of the dowry, you could say. It came along with Elizabeth.”
“Anything else?”
Stephanie shifted. “Well, here’s the tricky part. When the Germans looted the university, the Dansons apparently fled. The university was leveled, and the library burned as was Elizabeth’s family estate. Both her parents were killed. Fast forward twelve years and the next thing we know, the Dansons are installed in a luxurious home in New York which they own along with the estate in California.”
Luca frowned. “So where did they get the money for that if they lost everything?”
“Exactly the question,” Stephanie said. “Victor thinks they sold the pearl. There’s an obscure reference in a French newspaper about a socialite seen wearing a pink pearl brooch around that same time.”
Ava groaned. “If they sold it, how would Uncle Paul have gotten it out of the storage unit?”
Luca shook his head. “I don’t know. Any ideas?”
“Could be it wasn’t really sold. Victor could be wrong.”
Luca huffed. His brother was rarely wrong. It was one of the things that he both admired and found irritating at times.
“Okay. Will you stay on it, Steph?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m going to pull an all-nighter. With this storm, it’s going to be impossible to sleep anyway.”
“What are you going to do?” Tate asked.
Luca exchanged a look with Ava. “We’re going to do a little searching after dinner, maybe go through Paul’s things if we can find any.”
Ava nodded, and he saw the flash of emotion in her eyes. It would be hard for her to face the task so soon after losing him.
Sue called them to the kitchen, and he took Ava’s hand.
“I can search by myself if it’s too much,” he said. He saw her lips tighten, velvet-pink, just as enticing as they’d seemed the first time he met her a decade before. For a fleeting second he wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips.
“I can do it,” Ava said.
He matched her determined stride, still thinking about that kiss.
* * *
Dinner was a quick affair although he had to restrain his food snob tendencies. The vegetable soup Sue warmed would have benefited from the addition of fresh rosemary or even a rind of parmesan thrown in for flavor. Good training prevailed, and he ate the soup and sandwich with a smile on his face and a thank-you for Sue. Tate ate two bowls, once again surprising Luca with his ability to cheerfully devour anything put in front of him. That would serve him well because Stephanie had no idea how to even boil an egg.
Luca helped clear the dishes and found himself handing dirty plates to Goren, who had rolled up his sleeves and set to work in a sink full of water. He didn’t encourage conversation, washing methodically and handing the dishes to Luca who dried while the women wrapped leftover food and cleared the table.
Goren seemed lost in thought. Luca figured he was pondering who had disabled his vehicle and why.
Good questions. He’d left a message for Sergeant Towers, but the wind had picked up power, now blowing the snow into swirls of white against the black sky. There was no way anyone was coming up that mountain tonight.
No, it would be just the seven of them, unless someone else was holed up on Whisper Mountain.
He turned to Sue. “Did Uncle Paul have any favorite spots here at the lodge? Any places he frequented often?”
Sue gave him a smile. “Should I call you Sherlock?”
He bowed. “At your service, madam,” he said in an unconvincing English accent.
Her laugh was high, mingled with the storm that moaned and screeched outside. “Well, Sherlock, Paul was a roamer. He wandered everywhere, the pine groves, the toboggan run, even climbed up the gondola shed to take in the view. I wouldn’t say he favored any one spot, though.” A glimmer of sadness crossed her face. “He never settled anywhere for long.”
That didn’t exactly narrow the search grid any, Luca thought. Stephanie’s arched eyebrow told him she’d come to the same conclusion.
Harold finished putting batteries into hefty flashlights and handed one to each of them. “We’ll probably lose power. Got a backup generator, but it doesn’t kick in right away and sometimes I’ve got to fiddle with it.” He paused. “The basement.”
“Come again?” Luca said.
“The basement. Paul spent a lot of time in the basement when he was here.”
Luca looked into Harold’s hardened face. Was there something unsaid there? Something he was trying to get across without really saying so? The old man turned away and disappeared into the darkened hallway.
“Come on, Charlie,” Sue said. “Let’s get you settled in for the night.” They followed the same path toward the back of the house.
Mack Dog, having finished his bowl of kibble and the piece of cheese Tate had sneaked to him, stretched himself to full length, mouth opened wide in a yawn that showed two full rows of pointy white teeth.
“Smart dog,” Stephanie said, stifling a yawn. She came closer to Luca. “Do you want us to help?” she murmured.
He could see the fatigue on her face. “Tomorrow. We’ll poke around for a while and hit it hard in the morning. Okay?”
She pinched his cheek and kissed it. “Who knew Sherlock was such a softie? Good night.”
Stephanie gave Ava a quick hug. Luca smiled inwardly at Ava’s surprised expression. Stephanie was a hugger by nature, and she obviously had begun to consider Ava a friend, or at least an ally.
That was enough. Once Stephanie took on your cause, there was no stopping her. He felt the swell of pride in his sister. Tate put his arm around her and led her to the door where they donned coats and hats again. Luca kept firm hold of Mack Dog who attempted to follow Tate. “Uh-uh, dog. You’re on guard duty tonight.”
When they were alone in the kitchen, Luca let Mack Dog go. Ava put a flashlight in the back pocket of her jeans. “Where do we start?”
He considered. “It’s late, so we take either the basement or Uncle Paul’s room.”
She looked away, blinking hard. “Maybe...may
be we could wait until tomorrow to tear apart his room.”
He wanted to pull her to him then, to ease the sudden sorrow he saw play across her face. “You bet. I can do a quick tour of the basement before we turn in for the night.”
The glow of determination appeared again. “We’ll do it together.”
Together.
He could not understand why the word warmed a trail inside him.
Easy, Luca. Do your job and leave your feelings out of it.
A treasure was waiting somewhere in the darkened lodge.
He could feel it.
FOURTEEN
Ava tried to remember the last time she’d gone down into the basement. It might have been to fetch several jars of strawberry jam for her mother when she was just a child. She recalled the creak of the steep wooden steps, the scent of mold and some indefinable tang of discarded things, cobwebs, the skitter of tiny mouse feet. Her father had shown up to help her find the jam after a while.
“Why are you afraid of the dark?” he teased. “It can’t hurt you.”
She did not know then that her father was wrong, dead wrong. Darkness hurt the Stantons plenty. It began with the shadow that crept into her mother’s face after she miscarried what would have been Ava’s sister. It grew with each passing season, swelled as the lodge fell deeper into debt and burgeoned after the fight when her father had stormed out of the house just before a blown-out tire would leave him paralyzed from the waist down. That same darkness dragged her mother out onto the ice that one wretched evening.
She remembered in her teenage angst yelling at her mother, “Why can’t you just be happy? Aren’t we enough, Mom?”
That question was answered the day she killed herself. They were not enough, not nearly enough to drive away the persistent grief that lived inside Marcia Stanton.
The dark can hurt you. It hurt us all.
Her skin prickled all over in goose bumps as the cold air wafted up from below. She did not realize her breathing had grown irregular until Luca turned to her, eyes wide in the gloom. He didn’t say anything, but she could read the question and his tenderness both pleased and scared her.
Somehow he knew that memories lived down there in that basement.
“Let’s go,” she said, trying to push ahead of him.
He didn’t let her get in front. Flicking on the light switch activated a bare bulb hanging on a string down below. It illuminated only a small patch of damp cement floor some thirty feet below and the rickety wooden steps on which they stood.
Surprisingly, Mack Dog flat-out refused to go down the steps, digging his claws in when she tried to urge him on.
“You’re being a big chicken dog,” Ava said.
Unperturbed, Mack Dog trotted off to the family room, no doubt to curl up near the embers of the fire.
“Apparently your criticism doesn’t mean much to Mack Dog.” Luca eased down the steps, the wood groaning under his feet.
“How long has it been since these stairs were shored up?” he asked.
“As far as I know, they’ve never been repaired and my family’s owned this place for forty years.”
“Swell.” He beamed his flashlight over the steep flight of stairs. “I guess I’d better...” He broke off abruptly as the railing gave way and he toppled off the side of the steps, his flashlight spiraling away into the darkness.
“Luca,” Ava cried, peering into the void.
After a moment, there was a loud grunt. “I knew that was going to happen.”
She heaved a sigh when she caught sight of his fingers, curled around the edge of the steps, his long frame dangling into the darkness. The drop might not kill him if he fell feet first, but the hard cement floor could certainly crack an ankle or backbone. She grabbed his wrists with both of hers and flattened herself against the step.
Luca wriggled from side to side, with Ava holding on to his wrists as tightly as she could and pulling. The wood creaked under his weight and Ava worried that the whole structure might give way. Slowly he inched up until he was able to swing his foot up onto the steps. With a grunt he hoisted himself over and flopped down next to Ava. They both laid there panting.
“I guess you were right about the stairs,” Luca said.
Ava laughed. In spite of everything she could not restrain the bubbling laughter that had no business showing up on that damp basement step. The loss, the disappointment and grief all seemed to vanish. Luca laughed, too, his deep chuckle echoing through the basement. He turned on his side until his face was inches from hers. Going suddenly quiet, he reached out a hand and stroked her cheek, sending tingles rippling along her side. “That’s what I like about you,” he said. “Your practical side.”
She felt her face heat up as his fingers teased her, his mouth so close. He leaned in, closing the gap between them until his lips brushed hers. Warmth flooded her cheeks. Too many emotions crashed into her mind and she yanked away, climbing to her feet.
“We’d better watch our step, then,” she babbled, moving on down the stairs. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a sigh from Luca as he got to his feet and slowly followed her down.
Her pulse thundered. What had just happened? There was no room in her heart or mind for the emotions that now danced there. Still, her body seemed electrified by his gentle touch. Calm down, she commanded herself. Find this treasure and then Luca will get what he wants and so will you.
For one confused moment, she could not remember what it was that she desired. Justice? Closure? Peace?
Love?
No, it was not that. Above all things she never wanted to open herself up to that crippling emotion again.
Ever.
She carefully descended into the basement, Luca falling in behind. The cold increased the deeper they went until she was shivering, her feet like frozen blocks in spite of her boots.
They reached the bottom, a rectangular space with metal shelves stacked neatly with labeled boxes. High up on the wall was a small window that allowed in some starlight thanks to a baffle that kept it clear of snow for the most part. There was nothing to see now as the moon was obscured by a bank of storm clouds.
Ava turned her attention to the shelves. Her father’s neat handwriting marched across the cardboard boxes: blankets, miscellaneous kitchen, furnace filters, tools. They were precisely stacked, so like her father, former army. In his world everything had a proper place in the grand scheme.
How hard it must have been for him to wrestle with her mother’s illness, something he could not manage or change.
And how maddening now that his paralysis left him unable to control even his own body. She regretted her earlier phone conversation with him, her recrimination probably heaped on even more frustration.
She tried to focus. “Okay, Uncle Paul. If you hid something down here, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
Luca retrieved his flashlight, shaking it ruefully. “Busted. Harold isn’t going to like that.”
“He’d like it less if you had broken your leg in that fall or cracked your skull. Imagine the mess.”
He chuckled as he checked over the set of shelves on the far wall. “I get the sense no one comes down here.”
“There’s probably not much reason to because the resort has been closed down for the past two years.”
“That’s just wrong. The mountain was meant to be skied.”
She felt the same stirring she always did when she pictured herself at the top of a run, the slope spreading pristine and white in front of her, as if she was about to be carried on wings.
She felt Luca looking at her, his face strange in the light from the bare bulb.
“The resort should be opened up again,” he said.
“It will be, when it’s sold.” She could not look at
him. “When it’s not mine anymore.”
“Have you considered a partnership? Leasing out some of your slopes?”
“We considered everything, but we’re broke, Luca. People don’t want to partner with us, they want to buy us out.”
“Maybe you haven’t found the right partner yet.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to take us over because your father owns part of Gold Summit. It would be unbeatable if you absorbed Whisper.”
He didn’t answer.
She felt the realization settle like a fine powder of snow, sifting into her consciousness. “Luca, why did you come here now? To Gold Summit?”
“Mostly vacationing.”
“Mostly?”
He sighed and faced her then, shoulders squared. “The fact is, my father is interested in Whisper Mountain. The real estate agent your uncle spoke to contacted us about the possibility, and we came to take a look and consider our options.”
Her heart sank. “You came here to buy Whisper.”
He held up his hands. “The agent said you’d decided to sell. We had such fond memories of the place...”
Anger hummed inside her. “So our failure, our bankruptcy is a business opportunity to you. This whole treasure-seeking thing is just a diversion from your real goal.”
“No, Ava.” His voice deepened. “I’m here to help you find whatever Uncle Paul left. If it’s enough to save Whisper, then I’ll be happy.”
“Really?” Acid dripped from her words. “Happy to lose out on a once-in-a-lifetime investment?”
He stared at her. “Investments come and go. People are the real treasures.”
“That sounds like the sentiment on a greeting card.” She bit her lip, finding it hard to breathe.
“I had no idea you’d even be here. I figured you’d have an agent handling the details.”
“That would have made it easier, wouldn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were here to take my property?”
“I should have.” His gaze dropped to the floor and he sighed. “I’m not here to take your property. I didn’t say anything about the possible purchase because you had your hands full with the abduction, and grieving for your uncle. It did not seem like an appropriate time to bring up business.” He moved closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.”
