Unintended Detour: A Christian Suspense Novel (The Unintended Series Book 3)

by D. L. Wood

  Joe looked down at Chloe’s hand, watching it as if waiting for her to move it. But he didn’t pull away. When she finally leaned back into the couch, he sighed heavily, coughed a few times, and looked at her with a countenance full of gratitude.

  “Nobody’s ever talked to me about this like you. All these years, everybody only wanted the treasure. Nobody ever wanted to actually know Lily. And she was the real treasure.”

  “How many times have people sought you out?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. A dozen maybe? It’s been decades now since anyone bothered me. Probably because I never talked to them ’cause I could see the money was all they wanted. I told ’em I didn’t know anything. I never said a word.”

  I never said a word.

  Something about the way he phrased the last bit started Chloe’s heart drumming.

  This time Joe was the one who leaned forward. After coughing again, he caught his breath and patted Chloe’s knee. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to get me a stepladder.”

  31

  Chloe’s pulse pounded as she raced down the road headed back to Stonehall Estate. Though she had gotten away from Joe’s later than planned—it was already nearly noon—so far the weather had held off. She was pressing her luck, speeding as fast as she dared without risking a ticket.

  Frustration boiled inside as she glanced at her phone again. Still nothing from Jack. She’d texted and called as soon as she’d walked out of the building, but so far nothing. Not even a “Can’t talk right now,” or a thumbs-up emoji. It wasn’t like him. At least not normally. But then, it had only been twenty minutes.

  Maybe he was in the shower or had finally treated himself to some time in the spa like she’d suggested.

  Anything else, and he would have responded. Even if he was heavy into writing or busy hanging out with Riley.

  She could feel herself willing him to call. It was just that she wanted so much to share her news with him. She never felt like anything was real until she told him. And this was big.

  She glanced at her open tote bag in the passenger seat and the corner of the vintage red-velvet purse peeking out the top. This was it. What no one else had gotten to.

  Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

  With this Chloe would be able to do what she had suggested to Joe. She would work to bring good out of that horrible night. It explained so much—

  A trilling sounded, and she grabbed her phone out of the cupholder.

  Finally!

  She punched answer and practically yelled into the phone. “Jack! I’ve been trying to reach you. You are not going to believe this. I saw Joseph Graves and—”

  “Chloe, stop. Listen. Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way back. I’m about twenty minutes outside of Albany—”

  “You need to get here fast. It’s Riley…and it’s bad.”

  The emergency room in Kings Hospital in East Dutchess County was like every emergency room Chloe had been in over recent years—which was far too many. The sterile scent that somehow still reminded you there were germs everywhere. The energy-draining fluorescent lighting that gave you under-eye shadows the moment you walked in. And the hard chairs that were impossible to sit in for any length of time. Fortunately, she didn’t have to stay but a second, as Jack met her there and took her up to the third-floor surgical waiting room.

  Her insides roiled as her husband related what little he knew. In all the time she had known Jack, he had been a steady, calming, confident presence, even in the worst situations. But today, there was a quiver in the undercurrent of his voice.

  He explained that they didn’t know much except that Riley had been found in a basement storage room at the estate. One of the staff was down there and saw blood leaking out from behind a stack of boxes. He found Riley hidden behind them, unconscious and bleeding copiously from what looked like a stab wound. EMTs rushed him to Kings Hospital. Since then, Jack had only been told that there was extensive internal bleeding from the stab wound in his chest, contusions from what appeared to be multiple blows to the head, and that Riley was non-responsive.

  At some point after they settled in to wait, Deidre arrived with a basket made up by the resort’s kitchen containing sandwiches, fruit, and drinks. She sat with them while they picked at the food, though she declined to eat. She was fidgety, but quiet, often standing to pace, folding and unfolding her arms. More than once she made inquiries to the hospital staff about an update on Riley’s status, but was unable to get one before having to return to work.

  She made Chloe and Jack promise to call her with news as soon as they got it and said she’d be back the minute she could get away. Once she left, time continued to drag, until eventually the police showed up and questioned them both about Riley’s movements the night before.

  New York State Police Detective Hank Yarbrough introduced himself as the lead on both the Nate Lewis and Aaron Riley cases. He and his partner, Detective Riggs, ran through a litany of questions, but unfortunately, Jack and Chloe could only account for the time up until they parted ways with Riley after dinner. Jack mentioned that Riley had hinted at dinner that he thought something might be amiss, but that he wouldn’t share any details with them. He suggested the police ask Deidre about her conversations with Riley, since he had been helping her the day before, but Yarbrough said they’d already spoken to her.

  Chloe was surprised Deidre hadn’t mentioned speaking to the police, but then again there was a lot they hadn’t talked about. Like the fact that this was one more awful incident marring the resort. But how would one bring that up exactly? It paled in comparison to their friend—Jack’s oldest and dearest friend—fighting for his life.

  Her stomach sank as she thought about someone trying to kill Riley. But it was definitely attempted murder. Not murder. Because he’s going to pull through. He’s going to be fine. He had to be. She was the reason he’d been in the resort. Although, why he’d been down in the basement was a complete mystery, as was the motive for the attack. It begged the same questions Nate’s murder did. Was it accidental or on purpose? Had Riley simply stumbled onto something or had he been lured there by someone intending to kill him?

  After the police left, another hour passed before the surgeon came out to give them an update. Riley was stable but intubated and sedated. The surgery had gone well, and they believed he was out of immediate danger, though it would be another day or so before they would know for sure. The contusion to his head had not caused internal bleeding or a fracture, but there was swelling and he had sustained a concussion. Unfortunately, they would have to wait until he could be brought out of sedation to assess the status of the head injury more thoroughly.

  So far, the prognosis was good, thank God.

  They drove back to the estate holding hands as Chloe lifted up another of many prayers for Riley’s healing and health, for wisdom for the doctors, and for a speedy recovery with no permanent injuries. Jack was mostly quiet on the way, but once back in their room, words burst from him, thick with worry and frustration.

  “I don’t want you going out alone anymore.” he said. “You need to be around other people at all times. And those curtains need to come down around the exhibit. I want you completely visible from all directions when you’re there. Otherwise, if that’s not doable, I think we should leave. Stay somewhere else until Riley’s released.”

  “I don’t want to go, Jack. Not with the headway I’m making on the exhibit. Not with the trouble the resort’s in. It’s your family’s place, after all. We should try to help if we can, right? It’s doable, okay? I can be careful.” She squeezed his hand. “But the same goes for you. No more writing all by yourself in a private study. Do it here in our room, or where other people are.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Jack said.

  “And I can’t?”

  He cut his eyes at her. “Come on, Chloe. You know what I mean.”

  “Your skill set doesn’t make you invincible. Riley thought he c
ould take care of himself too. I just want you to be careful.”

  Jack dropped onto the bed, as if burdened with the weight of a man three times his size. “I don’t know why someone would go after him like that. It only makes sense if he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have down there. Riley started to say something about it at dinner and stopped himself. Why? If he was concerned enough to go down there, why didn’t he say something to me? Why didn’t he ask me to go with him?”

  All good questions. “I don’t know.”

  “I need to know what the police found,” Jack said.

  “I’m sure Deidre will let us know when she knows, if she can.”

  Jack flopped back onto the pillows, and she crawled up next to him. Even though it was only five thirty, they lay on the bed for some time like that, just staring at the ceiling. She wished she could do something to give his mind a break from worry, even if just for a little while.

  Joe.

  Jack had asked her about her visit with Joe earlier while they were waiting for Riley to come out of surgery. At the time, she felt it wasn’t the best moment to go into it, so she had simply told him it was fine and that Joe was able to give her some insight into the family. But maybe now was a good time to share what she had discovered.

  “Jack?” she said, propping up on an elbow as he continued staring at the ceiling.

  “Yeah.” It burdened her heart to see him so forlorn, his gaze blank, his countenance heavy.

  “When you asked me about my visit with Joe earlier, with everything that was happening, I didn’t think it was the right time to go into the details. But I actually got more than just information from Joe.”

  He rolled toward her, his eyes tired. “Like what?”

  She slipped over to her bag, pulled out the old red purse, and held it in front of her. “Like this.” The outside was simple, no beading, just smooth, soft velvet fabric that formed a pouch-like shape. The closure was a distinctive silver metal bar with an ornament at the center that twisted to open the purse.

  Jack sat up. “What is it?”

  “It’s not what it is that matters, but whose it is.”

  Jack’s eyebrows rose, beckoning the answer.

  “Lily Stone’s.”

  “Seriously?”

  Chloe hopped onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to him. “Joe has been saving this since his mother died in the eighties. She swore him to secrecy. Made him promise never to reveal it.”

  “Why give it to you now?”

  “His mother wanted Lily protected. But when I explained how I wanted to honor the family and especially Lily, and that I would do my best to use Lily’s story to continue her philanthropic work, I think it moved him. Plus, I think he didn’t want to take this secret to his grave with him. I think he was relieved to pass it on.”

  “So…what’s inside?”

  She twisted the clasp, opening the bag to reveal a black silk lining. She reached inside and gingerly pulled out a stack of folded, aged, yellowed papers tied together with a pink ribbon. She extracted them, laying the purse aside. She untied the ribbon, unfolded the first yellowed sheet, and held it up so he could read it.

  “Letters?” Jack asked.

  Chloe nodded. “Love letters from Will Rader to Lily Stone.”

  32

  “Love letters? From Will Rader? You’re kidding?” Jack sat up straight, his eyes brightening.

  “I know. Listen to this first one.” Chloe focused on the delicate paper in her hand, the words scrawled in black ink, slanted hard to the right in thin cursive. “It’s dated January 30, 1930. Dear Miss Lily Stone, I can’t believe the note you slipped me today at the grocery. Is it true? Do you truly want to meet me? I’m following your instructions to put this answer under the statue on the pedestal in the garden behind your building. I’ll come back for your answer tomorrow. I can’t wait to meet with you. Sincerely yours, Will Rader.”

  “She started it?” Jack asked.

  “And,” Chloe added, “clearly they were right about Will’s connection to the Stone family springing from his job at the grocery.”

  “What’s next?” he said.

  Chloe laid the first letter down on the bed and picked up another. “February 4, 1930. Miss Lily, After only one meeting, it’s probably inappropriate to tell you, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it when we stood in the alley, because it seemed the wrong place for such words. I am completely taken with you. I’ve never been able to talk to a girl that way before in my life. You are so smart and so kind. The way you talk about the hurt you see around you and how you wonder what God would have you do to meet people in their pain and need. You are an angel. I’ll leave this note under our angel with the hope that you can meet me again on Friday at four in our alley. Sincerely yours, Will.”

  “Wow. He had it bad.”

  “She must have too. She kept meeting him. They started to worry about it. Listen.” She opened the next letter. “February 9, 1930. Lily, how long will it be before someone notices us leaving notes. It’s a good spot, tucked away in the garden, but I worry. I won’t go there again unless it’s night. I checked at the orphanage like you asked, and they are terribly short on food. Anything you could do would be a great help. I know you said your father refused to donate, but maybe others in your neighborhood would. Could you take up a collection of money, or food? There’s also a need for clothing and shoes if anyone has some to spare. Every night I dream about the way you took my hand and held it. And all day, I think of nothing but you. Wednesday at 3 in Central Park at the spot you mentioned. Yours, Will.”

  “Her father refused to donate?” Jack’s face scrunched in disbelief. “Right after the Great Depression hit? I can’t imagine the needs they must have had.”

  “He was notoriously selfish with his money.”

  “But he grew up poor too. You’d think he’d want to help.”

  “He went the other way. Didn’t want to share what he’d accumulated,” Chloe surmised.

  “So he poured it all into this?” Jack held his hands out as if gesturing at the estate.

  “And his other business interests, the Manhattan house, and all the rest of it.”

  Jack nodded at the stack of letters. “Keep going.”

  Chloe bit back a smile. It was working. And she knew that he would only get more drawn in. She had already read all the letters at the nursing home with Joe and knew what was coming.

  She cleared her throat. “March 11, 1930. My beloved Lily, I saw you in the house today when I made the delivery. You didn’t see me, and I dared not call out. You are so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine. It made me sad to see you there, trapped in the house. I’m so sorry he punished you for arguing with him about trying to help. Tell Mary thank you for delivering your letter. I’ll be waiting in our Central Park spot, two weeks from today at our time. Until then, all my love, Will.”

  “This moved fast,” Jack remarked. “From ‘Miss Lily Stone’ in January to ‘My beloved Lily’ less than two months later. And I wonder where their ‘Central Park spot’ was?”

  “The Stones’ house was on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 63rd Street, right across the street from Central Park. So maybe not too far from there?” Chloe guessed.

  “But Will couldn’t have afforded to live in that area.”

  “No, the police documents indicate he lived in a tenement on the Lower East Side. It was probably quite a hike for him to get to the grocery every day.”

  “He would’ve been lucky to have the job. He wouldn’t have minded the distance. What’s the next one say?”

  She kept reading the letters—one every week or two—and it only became more obvious how in love the two were. It also was clear how much Lily, and even Will, had grown to despise her father, his greed, and their inability to do anything to help those struggling.

  “…I know you say your mother won’t step in,” Chloe said, reading from Will’s letter dated June 14, 1930, “but it can’t be easy for her to stand u
p to him. It’s not her fault. I know you want to figure out a way to help, and we will. Your church collection went a long way. The orphans had meat for the first time in a month. They all said to thank you when I told them it was your idea. And they want you to come visit again. They miss you. Maybe you could go the next time you’re allowed on an outing with Mary and Cora. You should bring her. Cora should see this now, while she’s young, so she understands. So she grows up wanting to help others like you do. Besides, I miss her. It’s been a month. I think she was quite taken with me. Like sister, like sister I suppose. Darling Lily, I love you. And no matter what you say, there’s no possible way you love me more.”

  “Like sister, like sister? Wow. He’s grown very confident since the first letters,” Jack quipped.

  “Because it’s obvious Lily loved him,” Chloe said. “Once he knew that, he probably felt he could take on the world.”

  “But where did they think this was going? There was no way her parents would ever let them be together.”

  “Just wait.” Chloe held a hand up. “We’ll get there.” She continued reading, and though the letters were only one-sided, Chloe could imagine Lily’ responses, practically hearing Lily’s voice in the letters she must have written Will to inspire the ones she now held:

  I love you, Will.

  You’re the only man I’ll ever love.

  I want to do so much, I want to help, but my father won’t do anything.

  She continued reading to Jack, working through the letters sequentially. By July 1930, the Stone family had finally moved into Stonehall Estate, and Will spoke about the difficulty of getting letters to Lily now that she wasn’t in the city anymore. “I know Mary’s promised not to read your letters, and I hope that’s true because you’re risking an awful lot if she does. But I don’t know any other way. I received the stamps you sent. Thank you. I hate that I can’t even afford to send you a letter. Someday I’ll make something of myself. Someday I’ll make you proud and be able to give you all you deserve. I know you say you don’t want anything, that you don’t care about any of that, but I want to take care of you, Lily Stone.”