I pulled into the driveway of the Haven, relieved to finally be home. I was still nervous and upset about what might be happening to poor Sheila, but somehow just being here calmed my mind. I stood at the home pasture gate and watched as Oscar came trotting over to the fence to nuzzle my hand. The simplicity of this life was reassuring and soothing. How could I ever have thought I would be bored? I scratched the top of Oscar’s wooly head and made sure that Agatha and Lisa were safe where they belonged inside the home pasture before turning to the house. I walked through the door and was assaulted by Liam quivering and whining for all he was worth. It was nice to be missed.
Hunter stuck his head out of the kitchen and said, “Startin’ to think you’d moved out, lass. The boy was pretty upset that you were gone. Didn’t even touch his food last night.”
Now from Liam’s point of view, that was true affection. “Come on, wee man. Let’s get something to eat. Something smells good,” I said, looking up at Hunter.
“Makin’ my famous lamb stew. Come have a bite. You look thin and peaky.”
I have to admit it was great to live in a place where everyone felt you needed feeding up and was anxious to give you a drink. I poured a whisky from the bottle on the counter and let the warmth of the Abbey Glen soothe away the tension in my muscles and chase away the fog from my head. One whisky was clarity, two was brilliance, and three was inertia. Tonight was a one-whisky night. Maybe one and a half.
“Not rushin’ home to Mary?” I asked. Mary was Hunter’s wife of many years. They had a very successful and loving marriage that seemed to have blossomed more recently by virtue of the fact that in retirement they spent very little actual time together.
“Nae, no rush. She’s stayin’ at her sister’s for a night or two,” Hunter said. “The ol’ lumbago’s actin’ up. Crippled with it, she is.”
Hunter brought two steaming bowls of stew to the table before fishing several prime pieces of meat from the pot and adding them to a bowl of kibble on the counter. Liam sat at attention waiting for his due as Hunter liberally doused the whole lot in a butter-rich gravy. Hunter served him before joining me at the kitchen table.
It smelled delicious, but I had to grimace slightly. “I don’t personally know any of these fine fellows, do I?” I said, gesturing to the bowl in front of me.
“Nae, this came in nice brown paper from the butcher in t’ village. Eat up.”
I’d never be that much of a farmer. “How are my lot doing?”
“All seem right as rain now they’ve gotten rid of those heavy coats. Lisa’s following Agatha around like a shadow. Other than that, all’s calm on the domestic front. I’ve been replacin’ the floorboards in the pantry and Liam’s bin spendin’ his time up at the Larches keepin’ Louisa’s wee friend company. She’s mad for him.”
I was glad to hear that, at least. Hopefully Liam was helping to take her mind off what was happening back at home. I could only imagine how terrified she must be. And how much more terrified she’d be if she knew everything that was happening. I said a silent prayer that all would end well for her.
I was hoping to spend some time tapping into the village gossip. Hunter was the source of all news for me now that Trish was down at the shelter, but before I could wind him up and press play, there was a knock at the front door. I opened it to find Patrick on the front step. I waved him in and got him a bowl of stew as Hunter was on the phone talking to someone. He hung up and said, “That was Louisa. She was wanting me to bring Liam up to the big house, but I told her you were home and she said not to worry.”
I felt terrible. I knew Nora wanted to have Liam with her, but I needed him, too, just for a little while, at least. I hauled his forty-five-pound self up onto my lap and he rested a chin on the table, watching Patrick eat.
“I’ll make the puddin’ while you two chat,” Hunter said from the kitchen, pulling out fruit and sugar.
“Nothing from your friends?” Patrick asked softly.
I nodded. “Late in the day. Just a terse note through the door telling us we’d get ‘instructions’ tomorrow.”
“What the hell does that mean? They’re releasing Sheila? They want more money?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m afraid they’re just stalling to clean up loose ends.”
“And nothing on the kid that grabbed the cash?”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He washed up on the shore of the Edenside estuary.”
“Dead?”
I nodded.
“Good God. Doesn’t bode well for Sheila, does it?”
“The longer the police take, the worse the odds are, I think.”
Patrick finished his stew and carried the bowl to the sink. “Let’s go to the library. I want to look at the wall again.”
We left Hunter fixing fruit for a crumble and migrated across the living room and into the library. Patrick reached the drinks tray first and poured us both another drink.
I took a sip of drink number two. Now was the time for the brilliance to kick in. We needed inspiration. Before I could open my mouth, I heard another knock on the front door. Was it always this busy when I wasn’t home, or had word just spread that I was back? Looking out the peephole, I saw Grant standing on the front step. When the door opened, he slipped inside like he was being pursued.
“Hi.” I looked both ways outside before shutting the door. “Are you on the lam?”
Grant looked slightly embarrassed. “We heard you were back and Louisa sent me over with a message. She said to tell you to keep Liam here tonight.”
Ever subtle our Louisa. “How’s Nora doing?” I asked.
“Putting on a brave face, but she’s too bright by half. Definitely has a sense of the gravity of the situation. We’ve been trying to keep things light and fun for her sake, but I can see in her eyes that she’s just humoring us. I took her and Luke to the Chocolate Bar at lunchtime, but mostly she’s been helping Louisa bake.”
“Her mom was a talented cook as well.” I shuddered at the accidental past tense.
“Anything new from the police?” Grant asked.
“Pull up a drink,” I said.
Patrick raised a glass in Grant’s direction and they settled in chairs opposite one another, watching me expectantly.
I went to the glass doors, adding cards for Colin and Greer, then put a star next to Urquhart’s, Ross’s, and Greer’s names.
Grant took a long swallow from his drink. “What are the stars?”
“Those three have no alibis for the time when Sheila went missing,” I said. “Though Colin and Amanda aren’t exactly watertight. They’re vouching for each other.”
“I thought you said you didn’t believe that Amanda was involved,” Patrick interjected.
“I still think that’s true, but Colin I’m not so sure about. I was out at Templeton Farms this afternoon taking some pictures for Greer Templeton’s advertising campaign.” I grabbed my computer, placed it on the table between them, and pulled up the photos I downloaded earlier for the police. “Greer’s all about the plants. She never fails to mention that she’s the gardener, and her brother’s the money guy. Big money. The more I think about it, the more I think there’s something off about the whole operation.”
“In what way?” Patrick asked.
“Colin seems to be making an awful lot of money off of spuds and carrots, even if they are organic and free-range and all that lark.”
“Too much money?” Grant prompted.
“I think so. I took some pictures of the farm from above. It was really just an excuse to check out the attic in the house, but it yielded some interesting results. There are at least three sheds on the grounds that could be used to hide someone, but there’s one in particular that bugs me.” I enlarged one of the aerial photos.
“What’s this used for?” Patrick asked, zeroing in on the long, low shed with the skylights.
I smiled softly at Patrick, relieved that he seemed to be on the same wavelength. “Junk, according to Greer.”
“What are you two seeing?” Grant asked, leaning forward and watching Patrick study the photo. He enlarged the picture and pointed to a large, plastic recycling bin near the back door. “I spent time covering the crime beat in my early years as a reporter. There are several things here that raise flags for me. It’s a nondescript shed with great ventilation, and the grass around it seems to have died off. If it were a place that was seldom used, the grass would have grown tall around the door and walls. The recycling bin suggests a fair number of plastics coming out of there, and the adjacent compost would hide any odors coming from the shed.”
Grant looked confused.
“It’s something I’ve seen in northern Africa as well,” I noted. “What Patrick is saying is it’s the classic profile for a drug lab.”
“So you think Colin is making and selling drugs,” Grant clarified.
I shrugged. “It would certainly explain all the money.”
“It’s also possible he’s using the restaurants he services as a distribution network,” Patrick suggested.
I saw his face fall and knew he was probably thinking about Gordon. I hoped he wasn’t involved, for Patrick’s sake. I sat up suddenly. “What an idiot.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Me.” I groaned. “I should’ve taken a closer look at those white plastic containers in the cellar at the Rest. I suspect I would’ve found something more than veggies inside.”
“Surely the police would have noticed. They’ve been around a lot lately,” Patrick said.
“They weren’t looking for drugs initially,” I pointed out, “and by the time they came to look at the basement in connection with Sheila’s disappearance, the bins had been removed. For Restaurant Week, according to Greer, but I think it was because Colin got nervous.”
“If they’re manufacturing drugs at the farm, then they might not be above hiding a kidnapped woman,” Grant pointed out.
“Or maybe that’s why they’re hiding a kidnapped woman. Maybe she found out about the drugs. I’ve been so busy trying to connect Sheila to Ross and Urquhart’s obvious crimes, I never considered that one of the other board members might have a reason for wanting to dispose of her.” Finally, the whisky brilliance had washed over me. I could only hope it wasn’t too late for Sheila.
“Should you tell Michaelson?”
“I sent him these pictures. I even flagged the ventilated shed. I know he’ll come to the same conclusion.”
“You going to rely on that?” Patrick asked.
“No, but he’s already angry at me for interfering. Elliot’s had an official complaint about me from Urquhart.”
“Then this will come as no surprise to Michaelson,” Patrick chuckled. “Call.”
I wandered into the living room and sat down next to Liam sprawled on the settee, scratching him as I waited for Michaelson to answer. I hesitated when I got his voicemail but left a message about the lab. I knew he’d be checking. Patrick passed through to rustle up some coffee and Grant came and sat across from me.
“Sorry about getting you involved in all this,” I said.
“Don’t apologize. It’s a horrible situation, but it’s helped me to take my mind off me. Watching Nora is a constant reminder of how much worse things in my life could be.”
“Hope Brenna’s not bothered by the extra guest.”
“She loves kids. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her since she got here and it gives her a break from her full-time job of managing my movements.”
“Does she know you are here?”
“No,” Grant said sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to face the inevitable, so I slipped out to deliver Louisa’s message while they were putting Luke and Nora to bed.”
“You’re always welcome to hide here.” I could see a nerve twitching in the back of Grant’s jaw.
“I can’t hide forever. I’m going to have to face some hard truths.” He rose and walked toward the fireplace.
His anxiety was feeding my own. I stared into the flames, feeling miserable.
Grant turned and stood, watching me. He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. “Elliot and his men will follow through,” he said softly.
“If we’re right, I know they’ll get Colin on a drug charge, but by the time they get their probable cause and their warrants, it might well be too late for Sheila. If she’s still alive, that’s where she is. I feel it in my bones. Something needs to be done now, not later.”
Patrick returned with three plates of cobbler and placed them on the table.
“If now’s the time, then what are we doing here?” he said. “It’s a dark night. Perfect time to go take a look around.”
“They may have guards or dogs,” I pointed out, getting to my feet anyway.
“We’ll just have to be careful, then,” Grant said.
I looked back and forth between Grant and Patrick. “You don’t think I’m jumping to conclusions?”
“Not unreasonable ones,” Patrick noted, “and, as you say, the timing is critical. You’d never forgive yourself if you waited and it turned out to be too late.”
“Right. Let’s take your car, Patrick. It’s darker than mine.”
Hunter entered with three thermoses and placed them on the table. “Take these. Ye never ken when ye might need a hot drink.”
Hunter never missed a trick. If he wasn’t so useful, I might’ve been irked by the eavesdropping. “Grant, maybe we should drop you at the Larches on our way out,” I said, digging for a dark jacket in the hall closet.
“No way,” he said indignantly. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt again.”
“It’s not your decision to make,” he insisted. Grant steered me out the door in front of him.
I started to argue but realized I was treating him the way Brenna did. Right or wrong, I had to allow him to make his own choices.
Liam was on his feet and ready to go as well. The four of us piled into Patrick’s sedan, determined to find Sheila. I could only hope that the whisky brilliance would stay with us when we needed it most.
It was a still night and the clouds covered any light from the moon. Great for not being observed, but not so good for seeing where you were going. I’d already stumbled three times, landing on my knees in the mud on the last go as we made our way through the open field that belonged to the Templetons’ neighbors. Liam insisted on chasing after the mice and other small creatures that lived in the chaff. He thought this was a grand adventure.
Closing in on the line of trees that separated the two farms, I slipped a leash on him and drew him near to me. In spite of the lack of moonlight, the night was a soft velvet gray on this side of the trees but seemed to fade into a thick, enveloping blackness beneath the branches.
The cracking and shuffling of our approach echoed deafeningly through the surrounding landscape, but it was only my nerves that amplified the noise. We emerged from the woods adjacent to the machine shed and circled around to the front side of the small building, half concealed in the woods. There was a padlock on the double doors, but it wasn’t engaged. Grant lifted the lock and swung the door open. Inside we found a small rotor tiller and a mini tractor. I climbed in behind the machinery, using the light from my phone to see if there was anything else concealed in the corners, but all I could see were hoses and a mouse’s nest. “Nothing,” I said.
We secured the door behind us and skirted along the tree line until we were parallel to the long, low silver metal structure. We crouched down and approached from the back side to ensure that we weren’t seen from the house. With any luck, Colin was staying the night at his apartment in town, and as an early riser Greer would be long in bed. Both doors to the shed were padlocked, but before we considered cutting them I wanted to be sure that this was the building we needed. No point alerting someone to our presence if it wasn’t necessary.
With all the grace and coordination of the three stooges, Patrick and Grant boosted me onto the roof of the building and I slid my way as quietly as possible to the edge of the nearest skylight. It was cracked open fractionally, and I was able to peer down into the space below. The intense smell of ammonia hit me as I came close to the opening. Patrick was right—it was a lab of some sort.
No wonder Colin wasn’t pleased to hear I’d been taking photos from above. The space was dark and empty except for the workbench that ran the length of the room. Plastic bottles with tubes coming out of them were scattered along the length. I couldn’t see anyone in the left half of the room, so I crawled slowly across the roof to the second skylight. Still no sign of anyone. If Sheila had been kept there once, she wasn’t there now.
I slipped down to the ground with Grant’s help. “Definitely a lab, but it’s just one giant open room and I couldn’t see anyone in there.” It was frustrating. I was so sure we’d find something here.
“Could she be inside the house?” Patrick asked.
“Anything is possible, but it would be risky. Especially if Greer’s not aware of what’s going on.”
“She has to know what her brother’s up to in that shed,” Patrick argued.
I shrugged. “None so blind as them that don’t want to see, as my gran would say.”
“What about the other shed?” Grant asked, pointing in the direction of the dark blue shed.
“That’s where Greer stores her herbs. She’s in and out of there all the time. It would be hard to hide someone, unless—” Suddenly it hit me. “You might be on to something,” I amended. “According to Greer, Colin just recently insisted that the floors in the herb shed were unsafe. He’s having them ‘redone,’ except when we were in there earlier today, there didn’t seem to be any work going on, and I noticed he was in a damn big hurry to get us both out of there.”
“Let’s go,” Grant said grimly.
Once again, there was a padlock on the door, but thankfully a smaller one. Grant pulled out the metal cutters he’d borrowed from Hunter and struggled to cut through the shank, and it eventually gave way. We opened the door, slipped in, and shut it again behind us. The herbs lay on the racks all around the room, filling the air with a heady smell of rosemary and lavender. Liam sneezed energetically.
“Greer mentioned that there’s an old cellar underneath,” I said, pointing to the hatch concealed by the barrels. Grant and Patrick shifted the large wooden barrels out of the corner of the room and over to the other side. I slipped my finger under the ring set into the wood hatch. It popped up and allowed the door to be swung upward and into the room. It was a deep cellar and appreciably larger than the shed above it.
There was no ladder but Grant swung down and dropped to the floor. His voice echoed back to us. “I see something in the back corner.” In spite of his protests, I followed him down and Patrick leaned over, looking into the hole. “I’d better stay here to help you two back out,” he whispered.
I moved to Grant’s side, where he was turning over a figure wrapped in a blanket and lying on the floor. I saw Sheila’s eyes flicker open for a moment and then close again against the glaring light from Grant’s cellphone. She was gagged and her hands and feet were strapped together with duct tape. I found a large cut on the side of her head and, from the look of the floor, she’d lost a lot of blood.
I gently pulled the cloth out of her mouth while Grant cut away the tape binding her arms and legs and began rubbing her frozen limbs. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. “We’ve got you, Sheila,” I said, wrapping the blanket around her again. It was damp and chilly in the cellar and there was no sign that she’d been given food or been tended to over the past four days.
I walked back to the trapdoor and looked up at Patrick. “We’ve got her, but she’s in a bad way. Look around up there and see if you can find a board or something we might be able to strap her to and haul her out.”
“Right.”
I heard Patrick rummaging around upstairs, looking for something useful. “What about one of these big drying racks?”
“That might work. Send it down.”
I heard Patrick dislodge the rack, followed by a crashing sound as he turned and took out one of the pots on the shelf behind him. We all stood frozen for a moment but heard no sound of footsteps.
“Sorry,” Patrick whispered as he handed the rack down to where Grant and I were waiting. “I think we’re okay.”
We carried the rack over to Sheila and slid her gingerly onto the frame. “Now we need something to strap her on with so she won’t slip as we lift her out.” I began to look around the dark corners of the cellar. There were numerous boxes labeled SODIUM HYDROXIDE and a white plastic bin filled with packets of over-the-counter allergy tablets, all the accoutrements of a meth lab, but no rope.
“There’s some twine here,” Patrick said, leaning down the opening and handing it to Grant.
Suddenly, Liam began to growl and Patrick realized too late that he was in no position to defend himself. The swift kick Colin gave him as he came through the door sent Patrick headfirst down the hole. He landed with a sickening crash on the stone floor. Liam began barking and snapping at Colin’s legs. He lashed out and caught Liam with a foot, sending him down the hole as well, where he landed on top of the motionless Patrick. Grant rushed to the hole and I rushed to Patrick and Liam, but it was too late. I looked up and saw Colin slam the trapdoor, dragging something heavy across on top of it. We were trapped.