The Missing Couple (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #7)

Chapter One

Bradly Retreat

Deep Woods Trail

“I am happy.”

Charly Bradly Nix stood at the window and stared out over the water from the cabin that had been home to her since she was old enough to walk.

This rustic five-room structure had been home to the family—she and her sister and their parents—for the past thirty-odd years.

It was small and lacking in most of the usual amenities.

There was no dishwasher, no shower—just an old claw-foot tub—and no heat other than the fireplace.

No air-conditioning besides the windows until two years ago.

Since she was the only one left living here now, she had considered changing the decor or maybe putting in a real shower.

But honestly, she liked the place just the way it was.

So much so, in fact, she had opted to keep the place even after their parents died the same year she graduated high school.

Jennifer, her sister, had already met someone in college and eventually married and moved to New Jersey.

She wanted no part of what she called the backwoods country life anymore.

She now had three kids and a lovely old brownstone she and her husband had renovated.

Every Christmas, Charly made it a point to be there for Jen and her family.

It was about the only time they saw each other in person anymore.

Despite the changes with her sister and parents gone, this was the only life Charly had ever known.

The only one she had wanted. With that in mind, rather than go off to college after high school, she had started the retreat.

It was her parents’ retirement dream, after all.

Her father had planned to turn this waterfront property into a rustic vacation retreat to capitalize on the many tourists who flock to the area every year.

He and her mom had often talked about spending their golden years sharing the perfect view of the still water and the silence of the woods with guests.

In the beginning, it was tough going. Charly had been basically a kid with nothing more than a little life insurance and a big plan.

About five years were required to get the rustic resort out of the red financially.

Ten years after that, and Charly had turned the wooded acreage that ran alongside the Tennessee River into a favored getaway for folks from all over the world.

With a dozen cabins spaced far enough apart to give great privacy, she stayed booked up nearly all year round. She loved this place.

Alex had loved this place.

She blinked away the thought of her husband, Alex. “I am not lonely,” she said aloud.

And she wasn’t, not really. This was just a part of her morning routine, repeating her mantra aloud.

Every day of the world, Charlotte “Charly” Nix got up, went for a run through the woods, showered, had breakfast and recited the words she lived by.

The last part had been added after her husband’s death three years ago.

A friend who was also a therapist had suggested the routine.

Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves, she’d explained.

Once that ritual was behind her, Charly was ready to start her day.

She sat down on the bench near the front door and tugged on her hiking boots.

Last night she’d reviewed her registered guests.

All but one couple had checked out yesterday as scheduled.

Charly had spent Monday morning taking care of paperwork for those folks, then she’d had to make a supply run into town.

By the time she’d thought of that final couple again, it had been late and she’d decided to wait until today to drop by the cabin during her usual cleaning routine.

She wasn’t actually worried. Some folks left without checking in at the office, which was Charly’s cabin.

When that happened they generally left the key in the rented cabin.

It wasn’t a big deal really. She had no new guests arriving until the weekend, so she had plenty of time to get the cleaning and laundry accomplished.

Still, it was nice to have the heads-up rather than being required to go check.

For now, she would carry on with her day.

When she made it to cabin six, the one in question, she would ensure there were no problems and that the couple— newlyweds—hadn’t decided to extend their stay.

There was always the chance a miscommunication had occurred.

The couple might very well have intended to stay until today.

Traffic would certainly be lighter since most holiday drivers had headed home yesterday.

Setting the worry aside, Charly stepped out into the morning air.

It was relatively cool for a July morning in the South.

The humidity was low, which was a blessing as well as a rarity.

The humidity level was one of the main reasons she wore her long brown hair in a braid all spring and summer.

Otherwise, her semicurly hair would create a dark cloud around her head.

Not a good look. She stepped off the porch and walked over to Lola—her aging utility terrain vehicle—and checked the supplies.

Everything she needed for cleaning and restocking detail was in the good-sized toolbox she kept in the bed of the vehicle.

The cabins were spaced wide apart over the forested acreage that had been in her family for decades.

Walking while carrying all the needed supplies wasn’t feasible.

Lola was the perfect answer. The vehicle would go pretty much anywhere.

Some of the trails were rugged so four-wheel drive was a necessity.

Charly loaded up and headed out. There was a gravel road that threaded through the property with a parking area at the location of each cabin’s path.

Once parked, a short hike was required to reach each cabin in order to provide essential privacy and a proper nature experience.

Since she had Lola, Charly could drive all the way to the cabin.

The path from the parking pad to the cabin was just wide enough.

The first cabin, the Bluebird, came into view.

She’d given names to all the cabins. She tried to select names that fit with the theme she’d selected for each.

The Bluebird was surrounded by lovely birdhouses.

Whenever Charly spotted an unusual birdhouse at one of the local shops, she added it to the collection.

None were too close to the cabin to avoid the not so lovely bird droppings.

But they were all visible among the trees that cloaked the cabin in privacy.

Charly had commissioned rustic signs from a local artisan for each cabin, and each one was painted in a lovely color to match the design scheme she’d chosen.

This first one was a pale blue with white trim.

She parked and hopped out. In truth, she couldn’t take all the credit for how this retreat turned out.

Alex had been the one to spearhead bringing her ideas to life.

As he had so often said, she had the ideas to create the plans and he had the know-how to execute them.

They’d done the work together. He’d taught her how to use all sorts of saws and other tools necessary for making and repairing things.

Whether a leaky sink drain or a wonky door not closing properly, she could handle it because of all she’d learned from Alex.

They had met and married the summer she turned nineteen.

A dozen years together had not been nearly long enough.

A smile tugged at her lips when she considered that finally, after three years of missing him desperately, she could at least recall their time together without tears.

As much as she understood that moving on was essential, she wanted to be able to remember their time together.

Alex had been an amazing man and a wonderful husband. He deserved to be remembered always.

With the cabin door unlocked, Charly stepped inside.

She inhaled deeply the sweet smell. Trial and error had taught her the best way to keep the cabins smelling fresh without all the fake scented sprays.

Essential oils and all sorts of flowers and greenery as well as select indoor plants did the job.

Each cabin came with a kitchenette and an apartment-sized washer/dryer combo.

Stuffing the linens into the washer was her first order of business.

The wash cycle was generally complete by the time she finished the cleanup.

She’d shift the linens to the dryer and pop the towels into the wash before moving on to the next cabin.

By the end of the day she would have visited each cabin three times in total.

AS SHE ARRIVED at cabin six, the Willow, it was almost one in the afternoon and Charly’s stomach reminded her that lunch should be her next stop. She decided to do a quick check of the cabin to ensure the couple had left their keys before heading back for lunch.

Although the vehicle they had arrived in was not in the designated parking spot, which suggested perhaps they had left already, Charly knocked on the door of the cabin. Walking in unannounced was not a smart move—especially considering the couple were newlyweds.

She usually tried to place newlyweds in the Willow since she considered it the perfect honeymoon cottage.

The exterior was a matte white with silver and gold decor from the wind chimes to the stars and other items that adorned the exterior.

A double rocker made from willow branches held center stage on the porch.

Inside, plenty of willow accessories and carefully curated silver and gold pieces made the shades of white stand out.

There was no answer, even after the third knock. “Mr. and Mrs. Willard! It’s Charly Nix.” When there was still no answer, Charly turned the doorknob. Not locked. Another indication the couple had departed. Inside was unexpectedly cluttered.