Upstairs she found herself in the middle of another hallway. Both ends of the hall were cloaked in darkness. They made a sharp turn toward the back, creating a giant U shape, but the darkness hid any other rooms the corridors might lead to. She cursed silently, rubbing her sweaty palms on her dress. The darkness seemed like the perfect place for someone to lie in wait—or for a lurking Lauren to finish her hair job. After a short internal debate in which Sara seriously considered abandoning the whole mission, she managed to get a hold of herself and turned right. Stepping into the darkness, she rounded the corner and turned on her phone’s flashlight. To her dismay, all the doors in the hallway were closed. She let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing to it. She would have to open each and every door, one by one.
Chapter 19
The first door she opened was the upstairs laundry room. The second was a guest bedroom. So were the third, fourth, and fifth. “For Pete’s sake, how many bedrooms do you need?” Sara mumbled, happy none of them were occupied. After fruitlessly searching through the whole right wing, while constantly checking over her shoulder, she returned to the staircase and reluctantly moved to the left side of the house. Her nerves were fried. A career change to full-time spy wasn’t something she should contemplate anytime soon, she decided.
The left wing showed signs of occupancy. She found Bailey’s room, and across from it a study, only it was different from the one in her dreams. She closed the door again and moved on, room after room, finding nothing. Getting impatient, she worked a little faster. Finally, near the end of the hallway, with only two doors left to go, she found herself staring at a desk across a room that looked awfully familiar. She flipped on the light. Yes, this was it.
It was a tastefully decorated room, albeit not a very large one. Two recessed bookcases behind the large glass desk provided color—the mahogany frames contrasted nicely with the light walls—and one large freestanding bookcase stood on the side. A big armchair in a zebra pattern concluded the furnishings.
With her heart beating inside her throat, Sara walked in and closed the door to a crack, hoping nobody would notice the light. The room felt empty—and at the same time it didn’t. She denied her senses the liberty to explore this paradox and moved on, anxious to get it over with.
The sliding door she had looked through in her dream was at the far wall. She tip-toed toward it, minimizing the sound of her feet on the wooden floor. Outside the door the balcony was visible; she guessed it was on the side of house, but toward the back. The yard beneath looked bleak in the outdoor lighting.
Hesitantly, she walked back toward the desk. The big glass plate was clean, without any of the papers Lauren had been looking at. There was no sign of the brutal events that had taken place here—it was spotless—but it was definitely the same desk. Sara shivered, not daring to touch it. The rug underneath had been replaced—it was almost the same color but a shade darker. Otherwise it appeared Preston had made very few changes to the room; it pretty much looked the same as Sara remembered. She glanced at the door. Every now and then some wisp of faraway laughter drifted up, but no other sounds came to her; she was alone up here.
She squatted down behind the desk, in search of the file Lauren had put away. There were three drawers to choose from. First she tried the top one. It was locked. There was no key on the desk; she hoped this wasn’t the drawer she was looking for. Her fingers pulled on the second. It opened. Nothing but pens and pencils. She closed it again.
Softly she opened the third drawer, the biggest. Her heart sank into her shoes. It was a file cabinet filled with colorful files. She tried to remember which color the file had been. Orange? Red? No, pink. She was almost certain it was pink.
Close to howling in frustration, she scanned the files but saw no pink. Ready to give up, in one last effort, she pulled out the drawer just a touch further. A little pink stripe flashed at her from all the way in the back. There it was! She pulled it out. The label was blank. She rushed to open it, but her clammy hands weren’t functioning as they should have been. The file had a bunch of loose papers in it, and as she lost hold of the file, they all fell out.
She cursed out loud and immediately held her breath. Almost expecting to hear running footsteps and shouting voices coming her way, she sat frozen. After half a minute of nothing but silence, she dared to relax a little. She quickly gathered the fallen papers and placed them back inside the folder, hoping they were in order. Frowning, she tried to figure out what she was looking at. It seemed like a financial report of some kind. She flipped through the papers and noticed some pages with pencil markings on them.
She heard a door close not far away. Someone was up here! Alarmed, she peeked around the desk, but the study door hadn’t moved. Breathing a short Hail Mary, she took out one of the marked pages with trembling hands, folded it, and tucked it into her purse. Quickly she pushed the pink folder back in the drawer and closed it. She stood up, straightened her dress, and tightly clutched her purse. Time to leave.
She took a few steps toward the door, but the large bookcase she was about to pass drew her attention. It was emitting heat. She knew she should keep moving, but the warm pull of the bookcase was irresistible. She took one step back and stuck out her hand. Baffled, she waved her hand around in the radiating warmth. The lower she went, the hotter it got. Following the heat, she found herself kneeling in front of the lower shelf. When she touched the frame on the outside lower left corner, the wood was practically burning. Fascinated, she slid her hand over the woodwork.
Then her fingers grazed something rough and hollow. Bending closer to the floor, she noticed a hole in the side of the bookcase, wide enough for her finger. She moved to the inside of the woodwork and pulled out the first book on the shelf to get a better look. As she held it, electric currents shot through her skin, like the book was about to spontaneously combust. She squirmed while turning it over. The cover told her it was a book about the Roman emperor Gaius Julius Caesar, but something had blown a hole through his face—as if being stabbed twenty-three times wasn’t enough. She didn’t have to open the cover to see what had caused the hole, for the culprit was in plain view. Her breath halted in her chest. She had found the second bullet… the proof her dream was real.
“Are you lost?” The owner of the melodic baritone came closer as he spoke.
Sara yelped in surprise, almost dropping Julius and his bullet, but recovered quickly enough to place the book back on the shelf before standing up. She turned around, rubbing her dress, mortified.
“Hi,” she said, facing Ryan.
“You are in serious trouble,” he said, but he didn’t sound all that angry. The abundant champagne downstairs obviously hadn’t been wasted on him either.
“Yeah—I was looking for a bathroom, you see,” Sara started.
“And then you ended up in the study of my friend’s late wife and thought you’d find a bathroom in this corner?” He chuckled a little. “Can I call you out on your BS?”
Sara looked down, wishing she could find a mouse hole to crawl into. Not seeing a way out, she said, “Geez, sorry—yes. I started out looking for a bathroom. But this house is so big, and like nothing I’ve ever seen, so I gave myself a bit of a tour. I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing. Please don’t tell Preston. I was just looking at the books here, that’s all. I meant no harm. Honestly.” She gave him her most sincere look.
Ryan eyed her suspiciously for just a moment, but then seemed to dismiss his suspicions. “It is a nice house,” he admitted. “Lauren had great taste. But you can’t be in this room. This is where she—well, you know.” He blinked a few times. “Preston would have a fit if he found you here.” He waved her along. “I’ll gladly give you the grand tour. Sara, right? Bailey was looking for you, but now she’s in her room, so let’s give her her privacy. It’s mostly bedrooms up here anyway. Downstairs is far more interesting.”
Sara followed him meekly down the stairs. While Ryan guided her through the rest of the house, he
r breathing slowly regulated. When they returned to the living room, she flagged down the first champagne tray that came into view. Unfortunately for her, Preston was standing close to the same tray and moved in for a chat.
“Hello, Sara, nice of you to come. I was thinking Bailey could use the company. You’re welcome to stay over, if you like.”
Sara felt her cheeks burn. “No, thanks. That’s very kind, but it won’t be necessary.”
“How about I show you around the house?”
Ryan came to her rescue. “No need. I’ve already done the honors, my friend. Sara here is delightful company.”
“Is she now?” Out of nowhere, Dawn had joined them. “That was so sweet of you to entertain the nanny, darling. She doesn’t know anyone here, after all.” Her expression had a distinct viper-like quality to it. After the conversation they had earlier, Dawn had to be convinced Sara was trying to get her claws into Ryan.
Sara sent out an SOS with her thoughts, hoping David would pick up the message. But the discussions about football must have been interfering with the reception, because he was still standing at his original spot, talking animatedly with the same men as before. Nervously plucking her purse, she smiled at Preston. “It’s a lovely party. Wonderful food, too. Thank you so much for your invitation. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course!” Preston smiled at her. “You’re a part of the family now, after all.”
Oh, help. I hope not. She strained to make her tone convincing as she replied, “It’s awfully kind of you to say that.”
Just as the men had seemed oblivious to Dawn’s earlier animosity, they didn’t pick up on Sara’s discomfort either. However, despite her undoubtedly severely elevated blood alcohol level, Dawn wasn’t fooled.
“So tell me, Sara,” she said sweetly, “which room did you like best?”
“Um, the gym was nice…”
Preston looked pleased. “Working out is so essential. I’m glad you agree. You know you can use the gym at the lodge any time you want, right?”
Sara nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Someone placed a hand on the small of her back, causing her to jump.
“Hey there. It’s just me.” David pulled her closer. “Hello, everyone. I’m David, Sara’s date.” He winked at the men. “I was thinking it’s time to whisk her away from the party. If that’s okay with everyone?” He offered his most charming smile.
Sara breathed a sigh of relief. David’s reception might have been patchy earlier, but he was definitely picking up her signals now. She quickly introduced them. “David, this is Preston Sinclair, my boss. Preston, this is David Sanders, my boyfriend.”
As David shook hands with everyone, Preston looked surprised, but not in the least disappointed. Either he was able to hide his emotions well, or he had none to hide, she thought. Maybe he was just being friendly the other night. In any case, she was glad David had managed to get her out of the party without any further predicaments. Dawn’s scrutinizing looks were starting to worry her. The last thing Sara needed was someone to be suspicious of her motives.
Safely back inside the hotel room, she finally dared to pull out the page she had confiscated. Peering at it again, she said, “Look what I found.”
David hiked up a questioning eyebrow. “Did you have permission to take that with you?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I didn’t ask permission. But nobody was doing anything with the file it was in. And I had a dream in which Lauren was working on something in that file. I saw her put it away. I thought maybe it was important.” She decided not to tell David that Lauren had been killed shortly after that. “I’m not sure if Lauren was in the room. I was too preoccupied, and I almost got caught. It was nerve-racking. I hate snooping around like that, but it’s not like I have anyone I can confide in.”
“I suppose you’re right. What is it?”
“Some financial mumbo-jumbo. I have no idea.” She sat down on the bed and held the paper out to him. “Would you know? Preston’s company is mentioned on one of the pages.”
David sat down beside her and inspected the page. “No, I don’t know much about this stuff either. Maybe a report? Look, someone circled something here—with exclamation points.”
“That would be Lauren, I think.” Sara leaned over to get another look. “Why would she circle that? JSK Marketing… I think that was the name circled on the other pages too.”
“It looks like some firm Preston’s company paid money to. Maybe Lauren wanted to contact them?”
“Why? I didn’t think she was very involved in the company.”
“It’s interesting you say that. You know who I talked to this evening?” David scratched his head.
“The head coach of the Seahawks?”
“Ha—no, I wish. No, one of the guys I talked to—”
“Guys? They both had grey hair and expensive suits.”
“Any man you meet over beer and football is a guy. Anyway, if you’ll stop interrupting me, one of them was on the board of directors. We talked for a while about how sad it was, what happened to Preston’s wife, and he told me that Lauren was on the board with him. Always very friendly, he said. Smart lady. But after the divorce nastiness came out, she became ‘increasingly difficult,’ as he put it.”
“Difficult how? For the company?”
“That was my understanding.”
Sara’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping for something more concrete. I don’t feel we’ve gotten any wiser.”
“Not much, I agree.” David got up and went to the bathroom. After a minute she heard water running. He returned to the room and started rubbing her shoulders. “You’ve had an eventful few hours. What you need is a bath—to relax a little—get out of that dress…” He slowly unzipped her, fingers brushing her skin, setting it on fire. “There… much more comfortable.”
As she leaned against his broad chest, she felt her muscles unwind, making room for a different kind of tension to surface. He kissed her bare shoulders. She let go of him and walked toward the bathroom door. There she turned and let her dress fall to the floor, and with it, the anxiety of the hours before. As she disappeared into the bathroom, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be alone in there for long.
Chapter 20
If Sara had been on cloud nine before, she wasn’t quite sure where she was now—there simply was nothing to compare it to. One thing she was sure of was that she had fallen—hard. This weekend in Seattle had been amazing, even with the football game.
Though she’d had boyfriends before, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so strongly for someone. The way she felt about David scared her, yet it was deliciously intoxicating. She tried not to gush too much or be overly clingy, not wanting to scare David away. He wasn’t one for superfluous words. He was attentive and seemed to enjoy having her around, but as of yet, he hadn’t burst into any swooning confessions of love—an affliction Sara’s brain was most definitely suffering from at the moment.
Back at the lodge, it was hard for Sara to keep her mind from drifting off and stay focused on Bailey’s lessons. If it weren’t for the recurring dreams and the chilling reception she got every time she entered the hallway, she would have forgotten about Lauren altogether by now. However, Lauren had made it pretty clear that she was not some pesky fly to be swatted away. Every now and then Sara would pull out the page she had found at the Sinclair residence and stare at it for a while, just to prove to Lauren she was making an effort. Not that it helped much—the page never revealed any new information.
The week crawled by, and Sara’s anticipation for the start of the holidays was almost unbearable. Preston had been out a few days for work; she had seen him only once. She hadn’t seen Ruth at all. Nick appeared to have no intention of returning, and his absence, however strange, was starting to feel normal. Preston had called the police several times about Nick’s disappearance, but so far they had little information to offer.
Christmas was drawing closer and Bailey woul
d be leaving soon for her break—Preston planned to take his daughter on a trip to California to visit his parents. Even Ruth was taking a vacation, which blew Sara away. It meant she would have almost two weeks off herself; she would spend some of it with her aunt and uncle in Seattle, and some of it here in Dunnhill. Whether she would see much of her own cabin remained to be seen—whenever she and David got together, they seemed to end up at his apartment.
An escape from the lodge was a wonderful prospect, but two weeks was a long time to sit on more questions than answers. On Thursday night, both Preston and Ruth returned to the lodge to prepare for their trips. That Friday afternoon, Sara decided to try her luck with Ruth before she left. Ruth had been much friendlier toward her since the party. In an unusual attempt at fraternization, she went up to Ruth’s bedroom, where Ruth was sitting behind her desk, tapping away frantically on her laptop. Sara hovered near the open door, knocking lightly.
“Hey. I was wondering—can I ask you something?”
Ruth looked up from her screen. “Sara—I didn’t expect to see you here. What do you need?”
“It’s a bit of a strange question. Bailey was telling me the other day about her godmother, Summer. Have you ever heard of her? She was married to Ryan, I guess? Anyway, she told me some weird story, that Summer just left. I don’t want to pry, but it was such an odd thing for Bailey to tell me. I was wondering if you knew whether there was more to it.”
Ruth frowned. “Geez, that was a long time ago. Way before I came on board. I don’t know much about her at all.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I just wanted to check—Bailey was so young at the time, maybe her memory was playing tricks on her.”
“I don’t believe so. Summer did leave. She worked at the company, if that helps. Accounts payable, if I remember correctly.”
“What’s that?”
“Accounts payable? They pay the bills.” Ruth arched her eyebrow in a way that made Sara feel incredibly stupid.
The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge Page 14
