Westin Family Ties. Alice SharpeЧитать онлайн книгу.
to the house.”
“And this was when?”
“About four or five months ago. School had just let out for the summer. Cassie stayed with us a few days but she was restless. She wanted a job, she wanted a life.”
“She had a life back in Woodwind, with me,” Cody said, and wished he hadn’t. He shook his head. “Don’t mind me, I’m just kind of perplexed about all this.”
“Well, what I’m about to say isn’t going to help that much. See, my mother has a distant relative who has a great-aunt, and that great-aunt has a friend who lives in a small town outside of Idaho Falls,” Emma continued. “The old woman was looking for a live-in aide because she doesn’t walk much anymore. She’s quite elderly, but I gather she has more money than she could spend in fifteen lifetimes and intends to live out her days in her mansion. Other relatives live there, too, but the old lady wanted some independence from them. Mom’s friend made a few calls and Cassie got the job. I drove her there myself.”
“That was nice of you,” Cody said woodenly. He took a look around him. This was as close to Cassie as he’d been in months, but it all had a terrible sense of unreality to it. “So, why do you say you’re worried now?”
“Because we worked out that she would call here once a week. Lisa asked her to do that so they didn’t lose touch, especially now, and she thought it would be better to go through me because Lisa is out of the country on work-related trips so often, and Lord knows with two kids, I’m never gone, never. So Cassie just calls and says, ‘I’m fine,’ or something like that. We agreed I wouldn’t call her.”
“And?”
“And Cassie didn’t call this week. So that’s why I’m telling you now where she is. Lisa is in South America for weeks and weeks, so she’s no help.” She bit her lip before adding, “You know, Cassie never said a mean word about you, and she didn’t act like she’d been abused or anything. I’m going to go inside and get you the address. If she’s really mad when you show up, tell her I wouldn’t have broken my word except I’m worried about her. You know, considering everything.”
Without waiting for his response, she slipped back inside the house. Five minutes later she returned, this time with a yawning toddler in her arms and a purse slung over her shoulder. The door clicked shut with a security beep as she handed him what appeared to be her husband’s business card. Greg Kruger, M.D.; a hastily written name and address on the other side of the card was of more interest to Cody:
Vera Priestly
210 Riverside Drive
Cherrydell, Idaho
Chapter Two
Cody arrived in Cherrydell too late to do anything more than drive through a relatively small community built on a river. The downtown area was old but gave the impression it might have become something of a tourist destination with restaurants, boutiques and salons dotting the streets. He made his way to the house where Cassie had apparently spent the past few weeks.
Towering and dark, surrounded by huge trees, the gingerbread Victorian nestled on what appeared to be a half acre of fenced property right on the edge of a river. The rest of the neighborhood was equally scenic, though none of the surrounding houses had such large lots or were half as big.
He drove past twice, wondering if Cassie was in there, wishing it wasn’t too late to ring the bell. For a second or two he thought about rousing the household anyway, demanding to see his wife, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. Showing up on Cassie’s doorstep was going to catch her off guard and no doubt create a scene. Stuff like that was best left for the light of day.
He found himself a motel room a few blocks away and tried reading, but it was no good; the words of the novel barely imprinted themselves on his brain. He finally turned off the light, but then he found himself checking the glowing numbers on the bedside clock every few minutes.
Why hadn’t Cassie checked in with Emma Kruger? The obvious answer was Cassie’s cousin Lisa got wind a detective was asking questions about her. Lisa could have alerted Cassie directly before leaving for South America. If that happened, Cassie would already be gone and he’d be too late.
He awoke at eleven the next morning and bolted out of bed like a horse with a burr under its saddle, appalled he’d overslept on this of all mornings. He took a shower and put on clean clothes while drinking a cup of the coffee he made in his own room. The motel coffee made the stuff he brewed in a pan over a campfire taste like gourmet.
He paused as he picked up the small black box that he’d been carrying in his pocket. Popping open the lid, he studied the contents for a moment, then snapped the lid shut. Leaving it on the dresser, he went back for it at the last moment and slipped it in with his loose change. It wasn’t a bribe, it was a promise. All he had to do was find Cassie.
Back in the truck, he drove to the house again.
What a difference a few hours made.
The driveway and street on both sides were now jammed with cars. A few people could be seen standing out on the large porch—they appeared to be smokers relegated to the chill of October to feed their habit.
Cody found a parking spot a few blocks away and walked back to the house. He looked the place over as he threaded his way between the parked cars in the driveway. It had to cost a fortune to keep a mansion like this one operating, but there were signs maintenance had slipped. The house needed painting, for instance. Plants had overgrown the landscaper’s original vision and weeds grew in the sidewalk cracks.
There were two smokers on the front porch and they both nodded at him. As he climbed the short flight of stairs, the front door opened and a woman and man came out. The man held the door open for Cody so Cody decided to go with the flow.
The inside of the house gave the same impression as the outside: elegance and expense slightly worn around the edges. The foyer was crowded with people dressed in dark colors, all holding something to eat or drink, all ignoring him after a cursory glance. By the preponderance of dark clothes and hushed conversations, Cody thought it pretty likely somebody had died.
The motel coffee burned his gut like cheap whiskey. Please don’t let it be Cassie. Anything but that. He chose a man standing alone to sidle up to. “Excuse me. Do you know—”
“Emerson and Victoria are in the parlor,” the man said, moving off to talk to a woman who had motioned to him. Cody had no idea who Emerson and Victoria might be, but guessing they were connected with this house in some way, he moved in the indicated direction, entering another equally crowded room.
Through the sea of bodies, he spotted an athletic-looking middle-aged woman seated on a brocaded sofa, her graying hair falling softly over her forehead. She was surrounded by other women, one of whom patted her hand. A man of about the same vintage stood off by a window, alone.
There was something about the two that linked them in Cody’s mind, a certain air of aloofness mixed with privilege. They were extremely well-dressed in tailored dark suits, their grooming beyond reproach. Both looked like they spent a lot of time on a tennis court or golf course.
A uniformed woman wearing an apron and carrying a tray, asked if he would like a canapé and started naming the offerings in a broad Cockney accent.
“No thanks,” he interrupted, adding quickly, “Do you know the woman who owns this house? Her name is Vera Priestly.”
“Know her? Oh, you mean, did I know her,” she said. “I worked for her for five years, now, didn’t I? It’s shocking what happened to her.”
“What exactly happened?” he asked.
She cocked her head to one side as her voice fell to an ominous hush. “You don’t know? Oh, now, mister, it’s terrible. Mrs. Priestly weren’t all fur coats and no knickers, if you take my meaning. She was a lady through and through. You ask me it was that new girl who took over for me. Run me out of a posh job, she did, and her being all—”