She made a conscious effort to take the aggression out of her voice. “Look, this is just my opinion. No one is a perfect parent. But if you try hard to be there for Bailey, try to make it work, that’s what she’ll remember later in life. But if you ship her off and give up on her when she needs you most, she may remember that instead. Bailey loves you, you know. I’ve noticed how much of a good effect visiting with you and her grandparents over Christmas has had on her. Her eyes look happier, softer. She smiles more.” Not only that, but her hair, which had grown a little, had been professionally cut. It was still short, but now it looked stylish. She was also paying more attention to her wardrobe. If outward appearance was any indication, Bailey’s inner world was improving.
Preston looked to be deep in thought. “Very well,” he said after a while, “I’ll take your advice and concerns under consideration.” He rose from his seat. “I’m off to bed.”
“He means well,” Ryan said after Preston had left. “He can be aloof sometimes. Regular emotions don’t seem to have a great hold on him, but he does love her, and he does want what’s best for her. For what’s it’s worth, I told him boarding school was a bad idea.”
Sara shrugged, not overly impressed. “If you say so. But why does he seem so afraid of being a parent?”
Ryan folded up his napkin, phrasing his response carefully. “Preston excels at many things, and he’s willing to put in a lot of work. Love, however, is not an exact science, and it has unpredictable outcomes. It’s something he would have rather avoided, but Lauren was a good match for him. She understood him. Being a mother changed her, though—motherly love came naturally, and he didn’t need to be very involved. She did it all.” Ryan shook his head. “I think he feels guilty. About her death. That somehow he drove her to it—pushed her over the edge. Maybe he believes Bailey is better off without him.”
“I see.”
“You handled it well, though. I know him. He will think about what you said. If anything, Preston’s very good at thinking.” He smiled. “You may have even convinced him.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ll work on him some more as well. Don’t worry. I won’t leave Bailey hanging.” He got up and whistled for Peaches. “Come, girl. Want to go for a late-night walk?” Peaches enthusiastically wagged her short tail in response.
As Ryan and Peaches traipsed off, Sara was left to her own thoughts. The discussion with Preston had brought some painful memories too close to the surface. She quickly pushed them back into the murky layers of her brain and made her way upstairs. For once, the atmosphere in the hallway was not oppressive, but almost friendly.
Keeping her promise, she didn’t take any sleeping pills that night, and despite her recurring dreams, she felt better the next day. When she checked her phone that morning, she noticed she had missed a phone call the day before. JSK Marketing had called back. The voice on the message was muffled, like the woman had a cold.
“Hello, this is JSK Marketing returning a call. I regret to inform you that we are not taking on new clients at this time, as we are overwhelmed with current accounts. We’ll be happy to inform you when we’re able to take on new clients again. Please call us back at any time for more information. Have a wonderful day.”
Sara didn’t know much about running a company, but denying new customers seemed a poor business strategy. But maybe it really was as they said: things were going so well that they didn’t need new customers. In any case, it was a dead end. Calling JSK Marketing again was not going to solve Lauren’s murder.
When she came down for breakfast, Preston was on his way out. Something had come up, and he had to rush off to Seattle for the day, but he would try to be back by nighttime. Ryan had agreed to stay—Bailey had pestered him to go skiing with her. It was hard to say no to Ryan, or rather, to his voice, and so Sara agreed to a short teaching session that morning. It was not a big sacrifice; her weekend would just start a little earlier.
After Ryan and Bailey left, she spent a few hours preparing the lessons for next week. Her stomach grumbled, letting her know it was lunchtime. On her way to the kitchen she ran into Cassie, who was putting on her coat.
“You’re leaving?” Sara asked.
“Yes, love, doctor’s appointment. Gotta go sometime! I’ll see you tomorrow. There’s food in the fridge, ready to be warmed up.”
“Thanks, Cassie. I won’t be here tomorrow, though—Saturday.”
“Of course, I forgot. Could you please feed Peaches, before you leave? I ran out of time. And Bailey won’t remember.”
Sara promised to do so. In the kitchen, she warmed up her lunch, ate by herself, and then went back upstairs to pack her bag. Before putting away her laptop, she checked her email one more time. To her surprise she found a message from the website she had contacted. Quickly she opened the attachment. They had uncovered Summer’s maiden name. Her full name was Jasmine Summer Kent.
Jasmine Summer Kent. Sara repeated the name several times in her head. Summer had been her middle name. That by itself wasn’t so unusual. But the name had triggered something in her brain—exactly what, she couldn’t say. She shrugged. The search would be a lot easier now that she had Summer’s full name, and maybe the connection would come clear at a later time. Realizing she had forgotten about feeding Peaches, she went back downstairs to the kitchen to fill the dog’s bowl, murmuring the name out loud.
“Jasmine Summer Kent. Jasmine Summer Kent. Jasmine Summer Kent.”
Her phone vibrated. It was a text from David, asking her when she would be leaving. She texted him back: Soon. She put her phone on the table.
“Your water is disgusting, Peaches,” she scolded the dog. “I can’t believe you drink this stuff.” Then again, she had caught the dog drinking out of the toilet bowl once or twice. Peaches obviously wasn’t picky.
“Hello,” a stuffy voice said suddenly, making Sara almost drop the water bowl. “This is JSK Marketing returning a call. I regret to inform you that we aren’t taking on new clients at this time, as we are overwhelmed with—” Peaches started barking, rendering the rest of the message inaudible.
Sara quickly put the water bowl down, spilling a significant amount of it, and stepped over to the table to grab her phone. What the heck—her phone was playing the voicemail all by itself, on speaker! A phone was not supposed to do that. She pressed the screen, pulling up the voicemail to delete it.
She hesitated. Phones weren’t always reliable, but a voicemail playing on its own was particularly weird. She replayed the message. “Hello. This is JSK Marketing…” As she pressed pause, it hit her. The initials. JSK. Jasmine Summer Kent. JSK Marketing. Wasn’t that strangely coincidental? She stared at her phone for a while—how much did she believe in coincidence at this point? She rushed back upstairs, leaving Peaches in the kitchen, and flipped her computer back on. She pulled up the website for JSK Marketing to look for additional information, like pictures of employees, but found nothing useful.
She tried to organize her thoughts. If there was a link between Summer and JSK Marketing, what could it be? Ruth had told her Summer had been a financial person—accounts payable—not marketing. Summer had been responsible for paying the bills for Preston’s company. Bills like those from JSK Marketing—after all, JSK Marketing had been on the financial report. But why had Lauren circled the marketing company? Had she recognized her best friend’s initials? But initials were just that, initials. Anyone could have them in that order. Surely Lauren must have known that.
Sara felt she could scream. She was on to something, but still grasping at straws. Twirling each bit of information around in her head, she fit them carefully into place like pieces of a puzzle, but one piece remained missing.
Minutes went by.
Her phone beeped again. It was David, texting her not to forget to bring her skis along. She groaned. It really was time winter came to an end. Closing her computer, she got up, grabbing her bag. She would pick up her skis from the ski room on her way to
the car. The strange ski room that smelled like—
Jasmine.
Her bag dropped to the floor. She froze mid-step as her brain connected the scent to the name of the small, white starry flower in her parents’ yard. It was jasmine! How could she have forgotten that? She hadn’t been in the ski room for a while, and had even forgotten all about the unexplained scent. In fact it hardly surprised her anymore—she’d gotten used to it. But a jasmine scent and a person named Jasmine—that was too much of a coincidence. Lauren was trying to point her to something. Maybe the ski room could tell her what that something was.
Chapter 22
Sara ran down the stairs and bolted into the ski room. The smell of jasmine was faint but unmistakably there. The room was empty apart from some skis and boots set neatly against the wall.
“Lauren?” she said loudly.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected to happen, but the lack of response was disappointing. She sat down on the bench.
“Why does it smell like jasmine in here, and why am I the only one smelling it? Can someone please tell me?”
The silence was deafening—she heard only the soft humming of the pale tube lighting vibrating in the room.
“Lauren? Can you hear me?” she tried again. “Lauren? Do you have something to do with the smell?” If anyone saw her now, they’d think she was crazy. She sniffed a few times. Was she imagining it, or was the scent getting stronger?
Encouraged, she jumped up. “Lauren?”
She hadn’t noticed the outside door opening until it was too late—and as she yelled “Lauren!” she turned around to the noise of stumbling ski boots. Across from her stood Ryan, his face reddened by the cold air and exercise; skis in hand, he simply stared at her, too surprised to speak.
“Oh, hi,” Sara said lamely.
He nodded, still with an incredulous look on his face.
“You’re back,” she said. “Where’s Bailey?”
“Skiing. She has more stamina than I do. I’m in desperate need of some of Cassie’s food.” He sat down and undid his ski boots.
“Cassie is out for the afternoon. Doctor’s appointment. But she left food in the fridge.”
“Great.” He slipped into his slippers. “I’m not sure I want to know, but can I ask why you’re screaming in here by yourself?”
She felt her face warming up. “Yeah… no. I really don’t have a good explanation for that.” At least, not one that Ryan would believe.
“I heard you calling out for Lauren. You know she’s dead, right?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or are you one of those wackos who believe you can summon the dead?”
She fervently shook her head. “Nope. I definitely can’t summon them. That would be—crazy.”
“Yes, it would.” His stare was making her uncomfortable. “Still smelling flowers in here?”
“A little. I confess that is a bit weird.” She stared at her socks, wiggling her toes. “I’m pretty sure it smells like, um, jasmine...”
She had anticipated that Ryan would ignore her, or react with annoyance or perhaps ridicule, but not the sudden fury that seemed to take hold of him. His face turned a dark shade of puce. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said through clenched teeth. “Jasmine? Is this some sort of sick joke?” He got up and approached her. “Are you making some distasteful reference to my first wife?”
Sara shrunk back. “No, I wasn’t.” Her tone was not the least convincing, and she knew it. As a finishing touch, her blushing face evaporated the last crumbs of credibility she might have had left.
He pointed a finger in her face, where it hovered inches from her nose. “Let me tell you something. No one called her Jasmine. No one but her late mother, that is. Summer—she was one of a kind. When she disappeared, I went through hell.” He shook his head. “Dawn told me how you were prying, and I didn’t believe her. But now... I don’t know what tricks you’re playing, but I’ll make sure to tell Preston.” He abruptly turned and walked to the door.
“I smell jasmine flowers,” Sara said stubbornly. “I may be the only one, but I’m convinced there’s a reason for it. Don’t you think it’s strange I’m smelling jasmine—of all the flowers I could possibly smell?”
“I do think it’s strange.” Ryan sounded tired now. “More accurately, I think you’re strange. If not a complete lunatic.”
“I’m sorry your wife disappeared. It must have been awful. But don’t you want to know what happened? Don’t you think it’s odd? Your wife? Nick? They both disappeared. Lauren and the tutor both ended up dead. It’s a bit much, don’t you agree?”
Ryan shook his head, an exasperated gesture. “Of course I want to know what happened. But I’ve put it behind me. I don’t know why she left me, but leave me she did. I just hope she’s happy, wherever she is. Summer had no enemies. She was the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t need enemies to get hurt. Even sweet girls get hurt sometimes.”
He turned around to face her. “You think she got hurt? She disappeared with her car and a suitcase full of clothes. Took a bunch of money from our bank account. You’re telling me that sounds like she got hurt?” He opened the door. “As for the rest, Lauren killed herself, the tutor had an accident, and Nick, well, you got me there. I don’t know where he went. And now I’m going to warm up lunch and wait for Terrence to bring me some booze. And I suggest you pack your bags and get out—I assure you Preston won’t want you to return after the weekend.” He left, leaving the hydraulic hinge to slowly close the door. As the door clicked shut, Sara found herself alone again, in a room that smelled of jasmine. Only now she was most likely out of a job, and her references for the next one weren’t promising.
She got up and started pacing. She was missing something, but what? She went over it all again. Summer paid the bills. Lauren did financial oversight. Summer paid companies like JSK Marketing. Lauren circled JSK Marketing. Why? Financial oversight? Lauren was murdered. What were the most compelling reasons for killing someone? She ticked them off her fingers. Love. Money. Revenge. Preston had both love and money motives. But he had nothing to do with JSK Marketing, as far as she knew.
Summer. It all came back to her. What if Summer was JSK Marketing? Had she started a new career? But who would kill over that? Unless it was… She stopped pacing. JSK Marketing wasn’t taking on new clients. What if they never had any clients? What if you were to set up payments to your own company? A company that wasn’t necessarily doing the work it claimed to be doing? Once payments were approved, and a company was deemed legit, who would notice? She had heard of those schemes before. People got very rich from this kind of fraud. A residence on the beach wasn’t out of the question.
She sat down. Her theory was nice and all, but if it was true, then Summer would have been involved in Lauren’s murder. She leaned forward, covering her face in her hands. Could the blonde from her dreams really be so cold? Summer was a young girl in those dreams. People changed as they got older, shaped by their failures, successes, disappointments… Sara sat up again and sniffed. The scent of jasmine was still there. Why? Why here, in the ski room? What was it she was supposed to find?
She got up and looked around. She opened a utility closet, which had little to offer. She stamped around the entire floor, which appeared to be solid concrete underneath the carpet tiles. She had just started knocking on the walls when the door opened again.
“Are you still here?” Ryan asked. He walked toward her, extending an arm. “You’re obviously a troubled young woman, and I really think it’s best if you leave.”
Sara stepped back, keeping the bench between them, clenching her fists. “No. You’re not getting rid of me that fast. Tell me, have you ever heard of JSK Marketing? Your company has them on its payroll. JSK—those are Summer’s initials. Coincidence? JSK Marketing has something to do with all of this. You should check it out, being CFO and all.”
Ryan blinked a few times. “I’m sorry. What?”
Sara knew
she was rambling, but this was her last chance. She was as good as fired. Ryan could call the police and have her thrown out of the house. “I don’t think Lauren’s death was a suicide. I think she knew something that got her killed. She’s trying to tell me something, with the jasmine. But what?” She looked around the otherwise empty room. “I wish I understood. Look, Ryan, you have to believe me…” She turned to face him. It took a while for her brain to register that something was wrong. Her gaze froze on the black shiny thing pointed in her direction. A gun.
He sighed. “You just couldn’t let it go, could you.” His voice was still a beautiful baritone, but all the warmth in it had gone. “It’s a shame, really,” he continued. “You do seem like a sweet girl. But like you said, even sweet girls get hurt sometimes.”
Sara wanted to say something, but her voice was stuck inside her throat.
Ryan chuckled. “Oh, come on now—you were so talkative before. Cat got your tongue?”
“You?” She finally blurted out. “It’s you? You killed Lauren?”
“I don’t know how you figured it all out. But it doesn’t matter now. Yes, I killed Lauren. She was asking way too many questions about the bills being paid to JSK Marketing. I suspect an old friend of Summer’s in accounts payable tipped her off. I fired her, but not soon enough. Lauren was part of the audit committee, you see. She started digging too deep. Of course, she trusted me. For eight years my little scam went unnoticed. I tried to dissuade her, throw her off course with the threatening letters, but just like you, Lauren couldn’t let it go. She was bound to find out.”
“You’re JSK Marketing? You were embezzling money from the company? But Preston is your friend!”
“How delightfully naïve you are. Preston is such an idiot. He wouldn’t notice someone stealing from him if it happened right under his nose. Which, actually, it sort of did…” Ryan’s self-congratulating tone was nauseating. “The company didn’t miss the money—I wasn’t hurting anyone. And I needed the cash.”
The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge Page 16
