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

by D. L. Wood

  “Did you get a look inside the sack?” Detective Yarbrough asked.

  That was the question that killed her. What would she have seen if she’d been able to look inside? Now that Vanessa had escaped with it, it was quite possible that neither she nor anyone else would ever know what it contained.

  Finally, Detective Yarbrough released her for the night, promising to contact her the next day. By nine, she was back in her room, crawling under the covers and into Jack’s arms. She fell asleep while praying—for Molly and Ben and that the police would find Vanessa Prater before she could do any more damage.

  49

  Chloe’s prayer was answered by the time she woke up the next morning.

  “Hey you,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of her side of the bed and handing her a cup of coffee.

  She sat up, leaned against the pillows, and sipped the dark roasted brew, turned caramel-colored by the vanilla creamer he’d added. “Good service here.”

  “They found Vanessa early this morning.”

  Chloe nearly spilled her coffee. She set it on the nightstand, glimpsing the clock as she did. “What? When? It’s only eight fifteen!”

  “Yarbrough texted me at six. They found her in a motel south of Albany. Turns out the kids knew a whole lot about what Greg and Vanessa were up to. The motel was their safe house in case something bad went down and they got separated. Apparently in the middle of the night, Ben remembered overhearing the name of the motel, and they got word to Yarbrough.”

  “The sack—the treasure—did they find it?” Chloe held her breath.

  Jack grinned. “Yep. She hadn’t had time to do anything with it.”

  “What was inside?” Her heart was racing.

  “Yarbrough said he wants you to see it in person down at the station. After all you’ve been through, he thought you deserved that. If you’re up for—”

  Chloe hopped out of bed. “Of course, I’m up for it! Can we go now? Did he say—?”

  “Hold your horses,” Jack said, taking her arm. “He said any time after nine. Let’s get something to eat first and then head that way. There’s no rush.”

  Chloe’s eyebrows shot up, her face twisting into what she guessed was the same expression someone would don if told there was no rush to claim their winning lottery ticket.

  Jack chuckled. “Fine. Get your stuff and we’ll go.”

  Chloe and Jack stood with Detectives Yarbrough and Riggs in the evidence room of the police station. Before them was a long metal table covered in a dark blanket on top of which sat dozens of items, including the flour sack, set out in neat rows, all tagged.

  “The stolen property was still in the sack when we found her,” Detective Yarbrough explained. “So far, we haven’t found any pieces in her other bags, the motel, her car, or the house. We think this is all of it.”

  Pearls, watches, rings, earrings, a ruby necklace, and a silver sapphire bracelet were among the cache. Most notably, there was an opened gold pocket watch with the inscription, “From TR to FDR.” There were other pieces Chloe recognized from the old police reports, in particular the items she had seen the Stone family wearing in the portrait taken just before the robbery—Lily’s diamond and emerald bracelet and her diamond encrusted necklace. It was all she could do not to reach out and touch the pieces, but she didn’t. Not yet anyway. Maybe once they were returned to the estate exhibit, if that ever happened.

  “They’re working on figuring out how much all this is worth,” Yarbrough said, “but the rough estimate is between nine and twelve million dollars.”

  “Are the Praters talking?”

  “Yeah,” Detective Yarbrough said. “Apparently Greg had been holding back, probably hoping Vanessa could still make their scheme work. But now that she’s been caught too, they’re both yapping away, likely hoping for a deal. They’re almost pitting themselves against one another the way they’re blaming each other for the failure of their plan. It’s quite the show to watch. Between that and what we’re slowly getting from their computers, we’ll have all the evidence we need—including proving the conspiracy with Patrick Kingsford to sabotage the resort.”

  “Is Kingsford talking?” Jack asked.

  Detective Riggs snorted. “Not a chance. He lawyered-up quick, and he’ll do his best to weasel out of it. But he’s gonna have a tough time with what the Praters are giving us.”

  “One thing I still don’t get,” Chloe said. “How did Vanessa know I’d figured it out? I left my room and went straight to the pergola. How did she know where to find me?”

  “Yeah, that’s something we need to talk about. It’s why we confiscated your phone when you arrived earlier. Greg hacked it. He didn’t share that tidbit before now. I guess he’s trying to earn as many points as he can with us.”

  “Hold on,” Jack interrupted, “how did he manage to hack her phone?”

  “Good question,” Chloe said. “I never misplaced it or even noticed it was gone.”

  “One thing Vanessa does concede about Greg is that he is good at tech stuff,” Detective Yarbrough replied. “He only needed about ten minutes to download an app onto your phone that stayed hidden there, sending them copies of your texts and keystrokes, even real-time GPS of where you—or at least where your phone—was. They decided to do it once you got heavily involved in the exhibit and researching the robbery. They kept looking for an opening to grab your phone while it was unlocked. Greg said they tried to pull it off a couple of times when you were working in the exhibit but couldn’t make a go of it.”

  Memories flashed in Chloe’s mind. “They were in and out of there a few times, either together or one after the other. Vanessa even called me on my cell, then showed up right as I answered. Greg was there, so she asked me to step out to speak to me privately. She asked about getting Jack to sign a book for Greg as a surprise. But I think I took my phone with me.”

  “That’s what Greg said. But then you went to the spa the morning you got back from Lilyanne Caudle’s house.”

  “I did,” Chloe replied.

  “You put your phone in a spa locker?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “They knew you were going.” Detective Yarbrough said matter-of-factly. “Greg overheard Deidre mention she had arranged a massage for you. They found out the time, and Vanessa waited inside till you got there.”

  “She was in the dressing room when I arrived. Said she had the morning off and was using the steam room—sore from rides the day before,” Chloe replied, hearing the disbelief in her own voice.

  “She was waiting for you. The minute you left, she opened your locker with the master key she’d ‘borrowed.’ You had only just left your phone in there, and the screen hadn’t locked yet.”

  Chloe racked her brain trying to remember her phone settings. I think I do have it set on a five-minute lock delay. “What did she do with it?”

  “Took it to Greg who was waiting and…voilà.”

  “Why didn’t you guys know about this once you got a hold of his phone and computer?” Jack asked, his face contorted in frustration.

  “It’s not as easy as all that. When he saw us at his door on New Year’s, he deleted the monitoring app from his phone before letting us in. And he had his computer set to delete its history daily, so the techs hadn’t uncovered his account yet. But, since the app was still on Vanessa’s phone she was able to continue monitoring you. It had alerts for certain words—treasure, loot, find, etcetera—so it messaged her when you texted Jack about figuring out where it was.”

  “Is that possible? Without my password? To just download an app on there?”

  “A lot depends on the settings on your phone and the brand and so forth. But, yeah, there are ways to hack almost any phone if you really want to. From what I understand, Greg used a legitimate app intended for parents who want to monitor their kids’ phones.”

  “Unbelievable,” Jack said.

  “So she saw my text to Jack and knew I’d figured it out,” Chloe press
ed. “And then, what? Used GPS to find me?”

  Detective Yarbrough nodded grimly. “The kids say she bolted out of there yelling, ‘She found it! She found it!’ They presumed it was the treasure and wanted to see, so they followed. They said she ran hard but stayed out of sight, going the long way around the outside of the maze to catch up to you. They hid inside the maze, crawled through to peek through the bushes, and saw what was happening. They didn’t want you to get hurt and didn’t want their mom hurting anyone else. Apparently, they overheard Greg and Vanessa talking about Nate Lewis and Aaron Riley.”

  “What?” Chloe was disgusted. “They let the kids hear that?”

  “Seems like they assumed the kids weren’t listening, but we’ve been talking to Molly and Ben, and they were spying on their parents as much as they could.”

  “Why?”

  “They were using the kids to search the property. Before Bartholomew Hotels took over, they weren’t actively homeschooling them like the Praters have suggested. Instead, they had daily excursions onto the property scouring it for the lost treasure. Greg Prater was obsessed and put those kids to work, using metal detectors even, throughout the house and outside—even in the walls in those narrow passages Harold Stone had built so servants could move around undetected.”

  A light of realization flickered in Chloe’s chest. “The noises! In the walls. What I heard the first night we were here. It was them?”

  “Yeah. The Praters were putting the kids in the walls at night right through construction. Seems it was easier for the kids to navigate those tiny passages. But they told them to stop once you two—the first guests—arrived. The kids didn’t listen. They wanted to please their parents and were more afraid of not finding the treasure than being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. They stopped after that first night, though. It got back to the Praters that you’d heard something in the walls, and they knew exactly what had happened. The kids said they got into a lot of trouble for that.”

  Anger bubbled in Chloe at the thought of the children being used that way. About them being so neglected that they could leave in the middle of the night without the Praters knowing. What were those people doing? What had they been thinking? She turned to see a deep red blooming at Jack’s collar. He was as angry as she was.

  “Explains why their coats and hats were all white,” she said. “Less noticeable in the snow when they were searching the woods. Camouflage.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Jack grumbled. “Using their own children like that. Sending them out into the freezing cold to search. No wonder Molly and Ben knew that maze so well. They’d been searching it for who knows how long.”

  “And that’s another thing,” Yarbrough said, his eyebrows rising. “Turns out, they aren’t even the Praters’ children. They’re the orphans of Vanessa’s sister. The father wasn’t around, so Greg and Vanessa took them in shortly before moving to Stonehall Estate.”

  Chloe fought back her shock. “So what’s going to happen to them?”

  “We’re getting in touch with the grandparents, but it’s not looking good. They aren’t stable and don’t have an interest in taking them on. It’s how Vanessa ended up with them in the first place.”

  Twins. Orphaned. No family to speak of.

  This was a tale Chloe knew well.

  A verse came to Chloe, settling into her skin.

  Trust in the Lord, with all thine heart, lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

  She’d had her own plans for so long. She had pushed, prodded, forced, and begged for them and had gotten nowhere. But now here…here was another path. One she hadn’t counted on. One she hadn’t seen coming. A detour she never intended to make from her grand design. But she suspected it was absolutely, positively the right path to go down.

  Chloe looked at Jack, the question burning within her, and he read it as easily as if she had written it across her forehead. He nodded, his crooked smile emerging. Affection and possibility washed over Chloe like a tidal wave.

  “Detective,” she started, “we’d like to ask you a question…”

  50

  ONE WEEK LATER

  “The doctor says you’re out of here tomorrow,” Jack said, smacking Riley’s leg. He, Chloe, and Deidre were gathered around Riley’s bed. They’d brought lunch from the resort because, according to Riley, there was a greater chance the hospital food was going to kill him before complications from the stabbing would.

  “Gone by nine a.m.,” Riley said, grinning unreservedly.

  “And straight to Stonehall,” Deidre said. “I’ve got your place all ready for you.”

  A warm bubble rose in Chloe’s chest. The news that Riley was taking over as head of security for the resort was fantastic. And the connection between Riley and Deidre was palpable. She could practically see the lightning bolts zinging between them. As far as she knew, Riley hadn’t had anyone in his life since his wife left him years before. This would be a wonderful fresh start for him. Her eyes drifted to the chair where Deidre sat, her hand intertwined with Riley’s resting atop the bed. It had happened fast, but then again…she looked at her husband…

  When you know, you know.

  “Speaking of you being at the estate,” Deidre said, squeezing Riley’s hand, “we’re going to need you as head of security more than ever. I don’t know how much of the stolen property is coming back yet—the police say it’ll take some time and a lot of lawyers to work it all out—but last night Lilyanne Caudle agreed to create a trust that will loan the exhibit whatever part of it belonged to the Stone family, as long as Bartholomew Hotels makes an annual donation to the charities she’ll select to honor Lily Stone’s intentions. So that means diamonds, rubies, pearls, gold…”

  Riley rubbed his hands together eagerly. “And cameras, and monitoring systems, a laser array, motion sensors—”

  “Hold on a minute, Mission Impossible,” Jack said, “no need to go overboard.”

  “I never go overboard,” Riley answered back flatly, his smirk dismissing the notion as ridiculous.

  “Uh-huh,” Jack said, and Chloe knew he was thinking about Riley’s personal, fully-stocked arsenal back in Miami, which he kept around, “just in case.” Of course, it had been the key to rescuing Chloe back when she and Jack first met.

  “Oh!” Deidre exclaimed, excitement rolling over her face as she focused on Chloe. “About FDR's pocket watch—I just got word this morning. The FDR Presidential Library is allowing us to keep it on loan. At least for the time being. Since the library’s just down the way in Hyde Park, the piece can easily be transported back and forth as needed. We’ve agreed to add a bit about the President to the exhibit and his relationship to Teddy Roosevelt, since that’s who gave the watch to him, which seemed to make them happy.”

  Chloe smiled. “That’ll be a huge draw for the public.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping. And that incidentally it increases the revenue from the other parts of the resort—the spa, stables, and so forth.”

  “Well,” Jack said, “we can’t wait to come back in a year and see what you’ve done with the place.”

  Deidre’s smile faded. “I’m just sorry that most of your visit was less vacation and more…” she paused, seemingly unable to find the right words.

  “Trying to avoid being killed?” Riley answered, eliciting snorts from all of them.

  “Don’t worry about us.” Chloe leaned into Jack and he slipped an arm around her. “Jack got his book outlined—”

  “And partially written,” Jack added.

  “Thanks to your muse,” Riley said, adopting a cherubic expression as he pointed to himself.

  “Thanks to my muse.” Jack tilted his head in Riley’s direction.

  “And, as far as what we were looking for…” Chloe's words drifted off as she looked up at Jack. His eyes sparkled, and he winked at her. “We found exactly what we needed.”

  51

  EAR
LY DECEMBER 1930

  WILL

  She smelled of rose water and vanilla, and he closed his eyes, trying to imprint this moment on his mind so that, no matter what happened, his whole life through he would remember. That scent, the feel of her soft, small hand in his. The feel of her smooth, silky hair between his fingers as he glided them through it.

  She was more than a foot shorter than he was, and when she leaned against him in the dark servant’s alcove in the basement, her head reached only to his collarbone. Her ear was pressed against his chest, and he wondered if she could hear his heart thundering the way it always did when she was close.

  Lily Stone lifted her gaze to Will’s, and he was captured, riveted to the earth, unable to move even if Harold Stone himself were to charge in on them. She was all there was. All there ever would be.

  The days of preparation were over. It had taken four nights of slow, quiet, muffled carving and scraping to create a hole large enough behind the plaque to hold the sack once it was filled. The robbery would take place just a few weeks from now. Then they could start their life together. He already knew how he was going to sell the goods. Then they would donate everything but what they needed to live on and run away out West. There, they wouldn’t be Will Rader and Lily Stone—poor working-class nobody and wealthy heiress. They would be Will and Lily Rader, husband and wife. Equals. With their whole lives ahead of them. Rich, full lives without the boundaries of class or society.

  That was the plan.

  “It’s going to be all right, Will,” Lily said, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his face. “I can hear your heart pounding. I know it’s scary but it’ll all be fine.”

  “It’s not the robbery that’s got my heart pounding, Lily. It’s you. Always you.”