Broken Trust

by Shannon Baker

  Cole squinted out the window. “Why would she take off ?” He pulled down the mini blinds.

  Now that she looked at her room through others’ eyes, it did feel over furnished and generic. She’d only hung a couple of prints she’d found at Target and the comforter and curtains were a solid shade of light blue. All of it serviceable because, she admitted, not much exciting happened in her bedroom these days. Her eyes strayed to Cole and she blushed.

  Abigail knew where to place the blame. “She’s scared to death Sylvia or someone else is going to kill her. And along comes Charlie. He storms into our home. I’m sure she heard his angry voice and fled for her life.”

  They all stared at Abigail for a moment, then Cole said quietly, “Charlie didn’t sound threatening to me.”

  Nora ran a hand through her hair. “It doesn’t matter what set her off. She’s gone.”

  “Who is Petal?” Charlie asked again.

  Cole started for the door. “Come on. I’ll explain while we search outside.”

  Charlie reluctantly followed Cole out the door, his eyes still pleading with Abigail.

  Abigail slammed her hands on her hips. “We should go after Petal. She’s had a very rough life.”

  Nora didn’t want to get involved with Petal. It was okay to let her stay the night, to feed her and listen to stories and tuck her into bed. But Nora wasn’t responsible for every stray that wandered into her path. “What did Petal tell you?”

  “She grew up poor and her mother is ill. She has an aunt who, apparently, is well off. But she won’t help with Petal’s mother. I think she has some resentment issues with the aunt and she ought to see a therapist. If you don’t take care of negative feelings they can fester—”

  “Mother!”

  Abigail smoothed her jacket. “For heaven’s sake, Nora, she worships you because she thinks you’ve been so kind to her and frankly, you barely notice her.”

  “Notice her? She’s living in my home!”

  “At my invitation.”

  “Thank you for finally giving me the sister I always wanted. Maybe we can play Monopoly and read Teen magazine together.”

  Abigail lasered a withering shot at Nora, creating instant guilt. “What’s happened to you? You used to be generous and kind and giving. Now you’re locked up like a clam, holding back all your love lest it wither in the salty waves of life.” She pulled her notebook from her pocket, uncapped her special pen, and scribbled.

  Out of nervous energy, Nora pulled the comforter up and straightened the bed. “You’re nuts.”

  “Is that so? I remember a little girl who always included the most forlorn and ostracized child on the playground.”

  “That was only because no one else would play with me.” Nora plumped a pillow and tossed it onto the bed.

  Abigail tsked. “That’s not true. You were always the leader and the most popular.”

  “Whatever.” Nora didn’t like this conversation.

  “This’s why you’re so unhappy these days.” Abigail was rolling on the Nora-improvement wagon and there was no stopping her.

  Nora walked out of the bedroom. “I’m not unhappy.”

  Abigail followed. “Of course you are. You can’t hide it from me.”

  “How could I hide anything from you? You’re living in my back pocket.” Nora stopped in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do. She stomped to the kitchen and leaned on the counter.

  “I know you’re refusing to let yourself care about Petal because of what happened to Heather.” Abigail paused in the kitchen doorway.

  Nora froze. They said time would heal but after a year, it still felt like an open wound.

  Abigail took out her chisel and hammered away on Nora’s heart. “You push Cole away with both hands just because Scott betrayed you.”

  “Enough!” Nora brushed past Abigail.

  Abigail watched Nora pace into the living room again. “You need Petal as much as she needs you.”

  Nora walked to a corn plant and held a broad leaf. She wanted to be left alone to take care of Abbey and herself.

  Snow swirled outside the window. Petal didn’t have a coat. Nora spun around and searched the side of the couch where Petal had curled up; her Chacos peeked from beneath the blanket. No shoes, either. Damn it.

  Abigail nudged her. “It’s a nasty night out there.”

  “I don’t even know where she would have gone.”

  Abigail considered. “She talked about wanting to stop Sylvia.”

  “Do you think she’d go to the Trust?”

  Abigail shook her head. “I think she’d go to Sylvia’s house.”

  “I wonder where that is.”

  Abigail grinned. “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “There’s this thing called the Google. You might have heard of it.”

  “Why?”

  “I was curious.” Abigail defended herself. “It’s a swanky neighborhood. When Berle and I lived here it wasn’t much but since then, they’ve scraped off most of the older homes and built new. It’s where the people with money live. We’ll GPS it.” Abigail grabbed her phone from the corner of the counter bar. “Got it. Let’s go.” She opened the coat closet by the front door. “I didn’t bring a causal cold-weather coat.” Abigail slipped into Nora’s newest, warmest down coat. Of course Abigail would commandeer that coat and leave Nora digging in the closet for a lighter-weight, beat-up version.

  They headed out the door to Nora’s Jeep. Abbey bounded toward them across the parking lot, enjoying the crisp evening. Abigail opened her door and before she could climb in Abbey scrambled into the passenger seat. Abigail waved him into the back.

  “Nora, wait.” Cole jogged from the end of the parking lot.

  Nora walked to her side of the Jeep and watched him approach.

  “Where’re you going?” His breath puffed in a white stream.

  “To find Petal.” Her fingers tingled in the cold.

  He stood motionless between her and the car door.

  “So we’ll see you later.” She reached behind him for the door handle.

  He placed a hand over hers. He gazed down at her, the struggle for words visible in his eyes. Finally he said, “I know you’ve had a rough year and I’ve stayed away because I wanted to give you space, or whatever.”

  Nora studied Abbey in the Jeep. He sat in back, staring out the windshield, unaware of her thudding heart and rushing blood.

  Cole let out a breath. “Here’s the deal. I understand you’re afraid of commitment because Scott had an affair and you don’t know if you can trust anyone. And you think I kidnapped you and—”

  “You did kidnap me.”

  He flared. “That was becau—never mind. What I want to say is this: I like you, Nora. I mean, probably more than like you.”

  She wanted him to stop talking but he kept going.

  “The timing might not be ideal for you but I can’t put my life on hold any longer waiting for you.”

  She turned to get in the Jeep.

  Again, he tugged her hand so she’d face him. “I’m not asking you to move away with me. I just want to know if there’s a chance for us.”

  Why did he force this on her? “I don’t know.”

  “What about tonight? I thought maybe you felt …”

  She jerked her hand away. Jobs, mothers, runaways, discovered fathers, weather manipulation. She couldn’t bring anything else into her life. “I’m going to find Petal. If you want me to confess undying love and fidelity to you, forget it. I’m not ready for this. With you or anyone.”

  Nora slid onto the icy car seat and started the engine. She refused to make eye contact with Cole, didn’t want to know if he still stood there or if he’d walked away.

  Abigail rubbed her arms.
“Get that heater going.”

  Nora eyed Abigail’s coat with envy. She shivered inside her second-best coat. And Petal was loose out there somewhere with no coat at all.

  Abigail punched her phone. “Go east from the parking lot.”

  Nora started the wipers. Snow stuck in small patches to the pavement.

  “What did Cole have to say?” Abigail pointed to the left and Nora turned.

  “Private conversation.”

  “He told you he loves you, didn’t he?” She clapped her gloved hands together. “That’s romantic. He could have chosen a more intimate moment but men don’t always think things through.”

  Either Abigail was blind to body language or she hadn’t been watching the exchange. Nora maneuvered down Arapahoe Street, thankful for the light traffic.

  Abigail’s giddy planning bubbled along. “You’re going to start slowly, right? Dinner, outings, that sort of thing. Will he move to Boulder? He’s not suited to that ranch anyway. Turn right at the next light.”

  The Jeep slid at the turn and Nora slowed. The wipers flapped at accumulating flakes. “Cole and I aren’t an item. Let’s drop it. Where next?”

  “You should have a smartphone like mine instead of that ancient model you have. It’s as bad as Charlie’s. Turn here.”

  Nora did. “Charlie has a cell phone?”

  Abigail stared out the window. “Of course.”

  They hit a puddle and the water splashed on the windshield. By morning it would be ice. “That doesn’t seem like something Charlie would care about.”

  Abigail spun toward her. “I suppose you two are simpatico on this subject too.”

  Let’s jump off one tangent and onto another. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The two of you. Always judging me about how I live. Abusing Mother Earth. He wouldn’t get a cell phone because he said it made him too dependent on others. He wanted to commune with nature and rely on his wits. Of course, he didn’t care that I worried day and night he’d get hurt in the wilderness, lying on the ground, dying alone. I finally bought him a phone and insisted he carry it.” Abigail pointed.

  Nora turned right onto Table Mesa Road. They were heading in a giant circle. Way to go, smartphone. “Good. Did he?”

  Abigail’s voice faltered. “He said he only did it to humor me. But he never called me and the minutes usage went up.”

  Nora squinted against the barrage of flakes in the headlights. “Who was he calling?”

  Abigail’s voice hardened. “I did a little research and found out he was calling that woman.”

  “What woman?”

  “That woman from the bar. Beth Ann Troutman.”

  Nora flopped her hand against her thigh in frustration. “Are we anywhere close to Sylvia’s house?”

  Abigail exhaled in frustration. “We’re discussing my marriage, my life. Why must it always be about you?”

  “You drag me out to save Petal and you’re upset because I won’t tell you that Charlie isn’t having an affair.”

  Abigail folded her arms in a huff. “Oh, what do you know?” She pulled one arm loose and indicated a right turn into an area with two elephant-sized sandstone slabs as neighborhood signs.

  Nora slowed and drove through the dark neighborhood, the splash of her wheels on the wet pavement accompanying the wipers. Nora had hit her limit for games.

  “He wanted to quit drinking because he thinks it will make you happy and all you can do is ride him and accuse him of things that if you really knew him, you’d know he wouldn’t do.”

  Abigail’s jaw went slack. “He’s quitting?”

  “Yes, Mother. And you haven’t even noticed. That woman, Beth Ann, is his therapist.”

  Abigail sat motionless for a moment and Nora peeked at the smartphone. It indicated another left so she headed that way.

  Abigail’s eyes went soft as she thought. “You’re right. I haven’t seen him with an open beer for a long time.” She came back to the present. “He said he’s doing this for me?”

  Nora nodded. “Can we get back to the drama at hand?”

  Abigail kept her satisfied smile. She checked the phone. “The next house.” Abigail had the expression of a twitterpated teenager. “Why didn’t he tell me? I would have supported him.”

  Nora slowed.

  Abigail pointed to a house. “This is the place.” She gave it the once over. “A bit gauche.”

  Nora eased the Jeep to the curve in front of a huge house. The lawn, now smooth and white under the accumulating snow, yawned in a ridiculous expanse that would need to be watered and mowed—the opposite of sustainable. The foothills rose from behind the multi-gabled McMansion with its covered portico and two-story front windows that must accent a great room with the mother of all vaulted ceilings. No direct lights shone through the great room windows, only a glow cast by another room. A window inside the massive stone entryway framed a crystal chandelier.

  Abigail started punching numbers into the phone. “I have to call him. Tell him I was wrong.”

  A minuscule sliver of light escaped from the front door and sliced the front porch.

  The door was open.

  Abigail held the phone to her ear.

  Nora slid from the Jeep and started up the walk.

  thirty-eight

  The snow eased off but the wind continued to howl through the trees behind the Trust farmhouse. Bright moonlight reflected off the white ground, leaving Sylvia’s footprints visible.

  Sylvia huddled at the edge of the back yard under an evergreen shrub. Her feet felt damp in her fur-topped boots. She’d broken a heel in her flight down the back porch stairs.

  She strained to see though the darkened windows inside the house. Where was Juan? He must be hunting for her. He’d be skulking around the dark building, stopping to listen.

  The rumble of boards on the creek bridge sounded like machine gun fire. She barely heard the purr of a car engine but seconds later a car door slammed. More of Eduardo’s thugs?

  Sylvia slithered from under the branches, feeling them claw at her smooth cheeks. She limped across the yard, staying close to the outer edge under the tree branches to avoid leaving footprints. With a burst, she scurried toward the farmhouse and hugged the wall, where no one inside could see her from a window.

  She peeked around the edge of the house to the parking lot. The Town Car still sat in the lot with a smattering of snow on the roof. Daniel’s Prius was parked next to it. Sylvia’s Ferrari was hidden on the far side of the Town Car—she couldn’t get to it without running in full sight.

  Pounding and what sounded like a scuffle erupted on the front porch out of Sylvia’s view. Male voices rose in anger. Juan slid out from the front of the house on the slick grass as if he’d been pushed. He fell to his knees.

  Daniel strode after him. He fired off a rapid string of Spanish and advanced on Juan.

  Juan scrambled to his feet and hurried to his Town Car. He turned and shouted at Daniel, throwing up his hands. He yanked open the door of his car and jumped inside. In a matter of seconds he gunned the engine and spun out of the parking lot. The car fishtailed and banged a back fender on the bridge before he accelerated down the highway.

  Sylvia ran from hiding. “Daniel!”

  He watched her.

  When she grew close enough, she launched herself into his arms. “You’ve saved me. I knew you’d come.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs and across the front porch. He shoved her inside and slammed the door. “Tell me now, Sylvia. What are you doing? Why did my father send Juan?”

  Why was he being so rough? She settled herself and brushed her fingers through her hair. She sidled to him and ran her hand up his chest under the leather of his jacket. “Don’t be grouchy. You’re going to love me when I tell you.”

&n
bsp; He pushed her hand away. “Tell me.”

  She rose on her toes and slipped her tongue to his cold lips. “I did it for you.”

  “For god’s sake, Sylvia. Get away from me.”

  Why was he acting like this? “I set it in motion, Daniel. Like you wanted me to. Like Eduardo demanded.”

  His face froze. “What did you do?”

  She smiled and reached for his hand. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  thirty-nine

  This is not a good idea.

  In fact, it could be one of her worst. That didn’t stop Nora from climbing the stone steps on Sylvia’s front porch and approaching the open door. Wind whipped her hair and stung her ears and her hiking boots left waffles in the snow on the walk.

  Abbey stayed close on her heels. She should probably have left him in the car with Abigail but she didn’t mind the four-legged dose of courage at her side.

  Nora rang the doorbell. She didn’t expect anyone to answer and they didn’t.

  She pushed the door open and stood outside. “Hello!”

  Silence.

  She should call the cops. Tell them Petal had gone missing. And that Sylvia was involved in a mysterious and deadly venture involving Tesla towers and dead birds, and the powerful people Sylvia worked for would kill Petal if the police didn’t intervene.

  They’d have no trouble believing that.

  Abbey trotted in front of her, leaving wet paw prints on the marble foyer.

  A wide staircase to the right of the entryway swept to the second floor. The curved wood railing shone with polish in the light from the foyer. Splashes of bright oranges, blues, and reds blazed from abstract oil paintings on the wall.

  Abbey’s claws clicked on the marble and his breath sounded like an elephant snuffle as he sniffed the floor.

  “Hello?” she said again. Silence in a house this size was a big silence.

  Directly in front of them, the marble of the foyer gave way to a white-carpeted sitting room. A baby grand piano left room for two white upholstered chairs. The night darkened the other side of a floor-to-ceiling window.

  Nora chose to head left down a short hallway. It opened onto a great room facing away from the street.