Chapter 33
33
Noel felt a rare lightness as she drove home, a smile tugging at her lips at the thought of seeing Landon again tonight. If she tried to explain to anyone how she could be so crazy about someone after knowing them less than a week, she wouldn't be able to do it. She could describe how he makes her feel when he turns his smile toward her. Or maybe the way he listens carefully, interested in what she has to say. Perhaps because he treats her as an equal, not someone to patronize. She could describe how his deep-set gray eyes stared intently at her, causing all other thoughts to flee from her mind.
She laughed and shook her head. "All I know, girly, is he is someone that I finally met, and I want to see where the relationship can go," she muttered to herself as she pulled out of the parking lot.
She meant to check her messages when she left the meeting, but since it ran extra long, she hurriedly shut down her computer, grabbed her phone, and headed out. Her fingers had just touched the radio when her phone rang. A quick jolt of hope ran through her, imagining Landon’s voice on the other end. She glanced at the screen, her heart sinking a bit at the unknown number. Still, it could be something important—she had cases waiting for her attention. “Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Lennox?”
“Yes, speaking. Who’s this?”
“This is Roy Barton, the Fugate family attorney. We met earlier today.”
“Oh, of course. What can I do for you?”
He hesitated, his voice taking on a polite but rushed tone. “I just got home and realized one of the forms requires your signature. I know we discussed full custody for the Fugates with only supervised visitation for Pamela, and they’re eager to have everything ready for the judge in the morning. But I noticed one of your reports has an unsigned page.”
Noel frowned. She prided herself on meticulous work, never missing signatures or details. “I was sure I signed all the documents before filing. But if it’s missing, I can meet you first thing in the morning at your office.”
“Actually,” he said, his voice softening, “I’m at home now. I thought, if you’re nearby, you could swing by? I’ll be traveling for business early tomorrow, so I was hoping to send everything electronically tonight.”
She glanced at the time, realizing she was closer to Bellehaven than she’d thought. “I’m actually in your area now. I don’t mind stopping by to save us both the trouble tomorrow. What’s the address?”
“It's very easy.” He chuckled as he rattled it off.
“I'm turning off the exit that will take me to Bellehaven.”
“How fortuitous! You’re about ten minutes away. I'll see you then. Thank you so much for everything,” Roy said before they disconnected.
A small voice inside her suggested calling Landon, but she pushed it aside. This was a quick formality. A few minutes, and she’d be back on the road.
The drive to Roy’s house took less than ten minutes. The Bellehaven subdivision was polished and quiet, the houses tucked behind manicured lawns and shadowed by thick trees. When she parked in the driveway, he stepped outside to greet her, dressed down in jeans and a navy polo, a far cry from his courtroom attire. He looked almost unassuming and relaxed as he waved her inside.
“Thank you so much for making the time, Ms. Lennox,” he said warmly, gesturing her into the foyer, where he already had the file open on a small side table. “I didn’t want to delay the filing, and it seemed best to get it done tonight.”
She moved closer, taking in the familiar report and flipping to the page he’d mentioned. Her fingers paused over the paper. Something about it seemed off—she could swear there was a faint smear, as though the original ink had been tampered with. Her signature wasn’t there, yet the document looked… different.
She hesitated, feeling his gaze on her. He offered a small, placating smile. “I don’t blame you for double-checking.”
Her eyes scanned the text, noting that it was worded exactly as she’d written. Finally, she signed her name at the bottom, flipping through the remaining pages to make sure all was in order. Satisfied, she handed the pen back with a polite smile. “I think that’s everything. I’m sorry I missed it earlier.”
He waved away her concerns, smiling widely. “It's no problem at all! I'm sorry I can't offer you dinner. Would you like a drink?”
“Oh no, thank you. I'm just heading home.”
“I hope I haven't kept you from your plans.”
“Not at all.”
"Well, enjoy your evening.” He hesitated, then smiled. “I have just opened a lovely white. It’s a Skalkaho from the Hidden Legend Winery. Please allow me to offer you a small glass. I don’t want to impair your driving, but a small glass, perhaps. It would be lovely to toast our success in removing Pamela from the Fugates.”
Noel blinked at his invitation, surprised at his choice of words. She paused, a faint unease tugging at her, but quickly brushed it aside and offered a polite smile. “I’ve never been to that winery but have had their wines before. Just a very small glass, though.”
Following him into the spacious, well-lit kitchen, Noel couldn’t help but admire the luxurious decor. Granite countertops gleamed under the soft lighting, and a half-filled wineglass sat on the counter beside the open bottle. She slid onto one of the barstools at his suggestion, feeling its comfort and style as her eyes took in the rest of the space. From here, she could see a family room beyond, its stone fireplace and expansive windows making her wonder what view it offered during daylight.
“You have a beautiful home,” she said as he poured a fresh glass and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” he replied with a smile that hinted at pride. “I’ve been here about six years. The neighborhood’s ideal—quiet, with friendly neighbors, though we rarely see each other. I enjoy a bit of social interaction, but solitude is a luxury.”
He slid the freshly poured glass toward her, and she wrapped her fingers around the stem. “I know what you mean. I only live in an apartment now, but it's fairly quiet. I'd love to buy a home, but I haven't found exactly where I want to live.”
“Where are you from?”
“Born and raised in Montana.”
His eyes widened, and he smiled. “A homegrown woman.”
She laughed and nodded. “My parents still live in the home where I was raised.”
He lifted his glass and sipped the wine, and she followed suit. She took a cautious sip, letting the wine’s crisp, dry flavor linger on her tongue. “This is delicious,” she murmured, though it was drier than she usually preferred.
“I often think people are pretentious regarding wine… or any alcohol. I firmly believe in finding something you enjoy and then enjoying it! It doesn't matter if it's expensive or cheap. Life's too short to worry about labels.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, relaxing slightly as she took another sip. But the wine seemed to taste more bitter with each sip, and she hesitated. She didn’t want to be rude, but the dryness wasn’t quite her style.
He glanced down at her glass and offered a little smile. “You’re being very polite, but I’ll bet you prefer sweet wine, right?”
A blush rose to her cheeks, and she nodded sheepishly. Before she could politely decline more, he moved to another cabinet and pulled down a different bottle.
“I have something you must try,” he announced, eyes glinting with enthusiasm. “This is a mead from Hidden Legend—one of their signature honey wines.”
“I’ve never had mead.”
He looked over his shoulder as he pulled down a new glass. “Oh, you’re in for a treat,” he replied, turning to her with the glass in hand.
He seemed so excited, it was infectious.
“In Greek mythology, mead was known as the nectar of the gods,” he stated with a wink. “This is the winery’s King's Mead. It's a delightful honey wine with a sweet flavor.”
She took a tentative sip, surprised by the burst of flavor. “Oh, my gosh. This is incredible,” she said, her eyes widening.
Roy nodded, clearly pleased. “I thought you’d like it. Mead is an ancient drink—thought to be the world’s first alcohol. It’s fermented honey.”
She took another sip, savoring the taste, imagining it would make a wonderful holiday drink. “I can see why it’s called the nectar of the gods.”
“It’s thought that mead actually predates other alcohols. It is considered the father of all alcoholic beverages. It is fermented honey, and the oldest records come from China, almost eight thousand years ago.”
She took another sip, fascinated with his knowledge. “What else is in it besides fermented honey?”
“At its core, it is fermented honey and water, but it is combined with grains, spices, fruits, and sometimes hops. It's often called honey wine.”
“Oh, I can imagine spices in this would be delicious at the holidays.”
He nodded with enthusiasm. “I have a few flavored versions of this—pomegranate, orange ginger, even elderberry,” he continued, swirling his glass. “I bring out the spiced one during the holidays. There’s something truly comforting about it in the winter.”
Lost in conversation, she finished her glass without realizing it. When she glanced at her watch, she was startled to see nearly an hour had passed. “Oh, I really need to get going,” she said, sliding off the stool, but a wave of dizziness made her pause. Her hand shot out to steady herself, and she cursed under her breath. She hadn’t expected to feel this unsteady.
Roy’s eyes flashed with concern as he took a step forward. “Are you alright?”
Noel forced a smile, swallowing back the growing nausea and unease. “I’m fine. I think the mead just… caught up with me.” Her words slurred slightly, and a prickling sensation crept down her spine as she felt his eyes linger a little too long.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, that same polite smile never leaving his face. “Would you like to use the restroom before you go? It’s just down the hall, to the right.”
Relieved to escape his gaze for a moment, she thanked him and made her way to the powder room, gripping the walls slightly as the room tilted again. She shut the door, steadying herself against the counter and staring at her reflection. She felt strange, more than just tipsy—like the alcohol was coursing through her veins faster than it should.
She splashed cold water on her face, trying to clear the fog in her mind. Her hands shook as she reached into her purse, relieved to find her phone. Her pulse spiked when she saw the screen filled with missed calls and messages from Landon. She tapped on the first voicemail, her heart sinking as his voice filled her ear.
“Noel, I just wanted to let you know that we are suspicious of Roy Barton. Evidence points to the possibility that he may have been the one to contact Mike about Pamela…”
A cold chill ran down her spine. She could feel her breath hitching as she tried to process his words, her mind slowly processing as she looked at the door. The affable, easygoing Roy she’d been sipping mead with a few minutes ago was potentially a dangerous man.
Hands trembling, she stared at the blurry screen and texted. Jus got you messages At Roy’s houssse Leaving
She hit send, even knowing the words were just as wonky as her vision. Steeling herself, Noel opened the door and took a shaky step into the hallway. She fought to keep her expression neutral, hoping her pounding heart wasn’t visible in her eyes. Her vision blurred slightly, and she blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus as she made her way toward the foyer. The house felt eerily silent, and her stomach twisted when she noticed Roy wasn’t in the kitchen.
She continued toward the front door, each step a battle as she tried to ignore the spinning room and her fading strength. As she neared the entryway, she spotted him standing just inside the door, leaning slightly out and listening, his face turned toward the distant sound of a helicopter.
She forced herself to walk calmly toward him, hoping he wouldn’t turn around until she’d managed to slip by. But before she could get close enough, he spun around, his eyes locking onto hers with a glint that sent a jolt of fear through her.
“Oh, there you are,” he said, his smile tight. “It was lovely to share a drink with you, but I know you need to be on your way. I won’t keep you any longer.” His voice had a strange, rushed quality as if he was eager to get her out of the house.
“Yes… thank you,” she managed, trying to move past him. But just as she stepped toward the door, his hand shot out, grabbing her arm with a force that made her gasp. He shoved her back, slamming the door shut behind him.
Her heart hammered as she struggled to keep her balance. “Roy, what… what’s going on?”
He didn’t answer, his grip tightening painfully as he dragged her back toward the kitchen. “Dammit!” he cursed.
She stumbled, her legs heavy and unsteady, barely able to keep up as he pulled her along. Panic surged through her, every nerve on high alert. “Roy! Let go! What the hell are you doing?” She tried to pull away, but her strength felt sapped, her body not responding the way it should.
The pleasant, easygoing man she’d met earlier was gone, replaced by someone cold and unrecognizable. His eyes were hard, his face twisted into a grimace as he pulled her into the kitchen. “You’re not driving anywhere now. I’ll make sure you get exactly where you need to go.”
She tried to back away, but he caught her again, pulling her in front of him. He pulled out his phone. Punching in a number, he said, “Change of plans. She can’t drive on her own. Get here, and we’ll take her in her car. Same plan, just altered.”
Her heart lurched at his words, their meaning hidden, but the harsh tone of his voice let her know that whatever he planned, she wouldn’t like the outcome. As her gaze dropped, she caught sight of a large kitchen knife nearby on the counter. She wanted to reach for it but froze as his fingers wrapped around the handle. Her eyes went wide, and she held her breath, paralyzed by fear.
“I know Mike must have talked to you. He was too good a man to die without wanting some kind of absolution.”
“It… it was you that sent him to k… kill Pamela,” she said as she clutched the counter while the room still spun.
“And that knowledge will die with you. Anyone you told will just have secondary information. Not credible in court, my dear.” He inched closer, the knife now lifting toward her.
And then, suddenly, a loud crash shattered the tension—a window breaking nearby.