Chapter Nine
Bradly Retreat
When the door closed behind Billie, Charly relaxed. She’d put on a brave face when he arrived to rescue her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. And he had rescued her. No question about that.
She could have called the police or Vince, for that matter.
Even Shelly. But her first thought had been Billie.
It was so foolish. They barely knew each other.
But she felt drawn to him. Trusted him. On some level she understood that it was about the situation.
The tension and fear of having two people—her guests, his family—missing.
But it wasn’t just Briana and Martin niggling at her so fiercely.
It was all the other blond-haired, blue-eyed women who had gone missing over the past sixteen years.
Eight. Eight! How did that happen and no one seemed to notice?
Had it started with Francesca Andrews? If so, then it was nine! How could that be?
Her father had worked the case. She’d been found wandering along the highway with no memory of where she had been for the past forty-eight hours. The very next day she was taken back to Nashville by her family.
Except then, hardly more than weeks later, she had disappeared again. This time for good.
A new thought occurred to Charly. Her knees felt weak, causing her to lower into a nearby chair.
Was it possible that the person or persons who abducted Francesca Andrews were responsible for all the others over the past sixteen years?
Could those same people have murdered Charly’s parents? No, that couldn’t be right.
Could it?
She was going way too far with this random theory. Still, she intended to talk to Billie. Get his thoughts on the matter. It was very possible that her subconscious was infusing the need to solve that part of her past into an unlikely situation that simply shared nothing more than timing.
Charly stood. First, she would complete the guest baskets. They were the final part of prepping the cabins for new guests. By then, Billie would be finished with his calls. They could talk about her new concern then. If it was nothing more than wishful thinking, then at least she went the distance.
She set back to the task of arranging the fruit, along with the box of chocolates, in each basket.
The baskets were old, but sometimes vintage was a good thing.
They were well made and showed the love of time.
Her mother had selected the baskets. They’d been hanging on one of the overhead timbers in the kitchen for years.
Charly had known she had to use them. She wouldn’t think of changing, even now.
Despite her best efforts to focus her thoughts on the task in front of her, her mind churned with questions.
This sinking feeling that she and Billie were on to something terrible with this blond-haired-blue-eyed scenario kept nagging at her.
It was a struggle but somehow she managed to finish the last basket.
Seven cabins were rented starting this Friday. She surveyed the seven baskets. They looked good. Surprisingly so considering her level of distraction. One by one she carried each out to Lola. Once they were secured she climbed behind the wheel.
“Mind if I join you?”
She jumped, pressed her hand to her throat. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”
He slid into the passenger seat. “Sorry. I was so caught up watching you I forgot to speak up and let you know I was here.”
She frowned at him. “Watching me?” She laughed. Tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I look a fright. I’m still a little unsteady after what happened so I’m moving a little slow and a whole lot uncoordinated.”
“You,” he said as she reached to start the engine, “are an interesting woman to watch. You take such care with whatever you do. Briana is like that. It shows me that you, like my sister, love all that you do.”
She shifted into Low and headed for the first cabin. “Well, thank you. I do love this place and being a host to all sorts of people who visit Guntersville. It feels important in some maybe not so important way.”
“It is important.” He hesitated as she braked at her destination. “Most people work hard and when they take a vacation, it’s important they feel they got their money’s worth. Equally important is the need to feel the pleasure of it.”
She couldn’t argue his points. In fact, she thought, glancing at him, he made damned good points.
“I finally received the list of places Martin’s credit card was used since they left Chicago.”
His tone suggested it wasn’t as helpful as he’d hoped. “Anything useful?”
“After they left the airport in Huntsville they drove straight to Guntersville. If they stopped anywhere they used cash. But they did stop at a local restaurant. The Top of the River. Do you know it?”
She nodded. “I do. It’s a nice place on the waterfront. Great reputation and great food.” She shut off the engine. “Did they come straight here after that?”
“No credit card usage after that so I’m guessing they did.” He stood at the back of the vehicle while she reached for a fruit basket. “What items should I take inside?”
Charly pointed to an empty basket she kept hanging on the bar across the top of the backseat. “Put six bottles of water and six each of the snacks in that basket.” Shelly had taken care of everything else but Charly had been out of bottled water and snack bars until her ill-fated trip this morning.
Billie took the basket from its hook. “Got it.”
She headed to the front door and unlocked it.
This cabin, the Woodland she’d named it, had all sorts of fairy decor, including little doors at the bases of many trees.
Statues of fairies. The place was actually designed in honor of her sister, Jen.
She had loved all things faery when she was a little girl and even well into her teens.
She’d left all that stuff when she headed to college.
Once Jen was married and Charly had the retreat started, she had used all those knickknacks for this cabin.
She’d added lots more as well. It was quite magical with little lights that came on after dark.
Orbs hidden in the bushes glowed and twinkled in the enchanting setting.
Billie was coming through the door by the time she had the fruit basket perched on the small dining table.
“How did you come up with all the themes?” he asked.
Charly took the basket he carried and headed to the counter on the kitchen side of the space.
As artfully as possible, she arranged the snacks and bottled water.
“This one was inspired by my sister’s room when we were growing up.
” She turned to him when she’d emptied the basket.
“Each one has a similar story. Someone or something sparked the idea. It started with this one actually and I just kept going until they all had a bit of uniqueness about them.”
“You’ve done a great job.”
His compliment warmed her. Made her breath hitch a little. “Thanks.” She headed for the door; he followed. “Any other credit card use found?” she asked, moving back to the very important reason he was here.
He closed the door behind them. She handed him the key and he locked it. “On Saturday, they did some shopping downtown on Gunter Avenue. They made purchases in two shops. Had lunch at a café. Then there’s the order delivered on Saturday evening.”
“Nothing for Sunday?” She had really, really hoped they would learn something about how the couple spent Sunday.
“There was one,” he said as they loaded into Lola. “They stopped at a convenience store for gas and snacks on Sunday afternoon.”
Charly headed for the next cabin. “And that’s it?”
He nodded. “But that’s important,” he countered, “because five of the eight other victims who match the profile of our pattern visited that same convenience store, too.”
She didn’t have to be a cop to understand the significance of that information. She didn’t even ask how he found this information. The Colby Agency had its sources and they were extensive. “We need to go there. See if the store has cameras.”
“They do,” Billie told her. “The footage was shared with the police on all five occasions, but nothing came of it according to the case files.”
She didn’t ask how he knew this, either. “Okay.” Her hopes deflated a little. “I guess they didn’t find anything relevant to the other cases.”
“The question is,” he offered as they ferried along to the next destination, “were they looking for the right relevant thing?”
She glanced at him as she navigated the narrow gravel road. “Like anyone who might have been watching the soon-to-be-missing person?”
“Yes. Considering all the women in this town at any given time during tourist season, the person behind these abductions unquestionably picks out the victim and watches her or them until she or they are taken. If there was no pattern, that might not be the case. The specificity of the victims makes all the difference. It changes everything.”
Charly parked at the next cabin. “But it’s too late to see the footage from those five victims, right? It’s probably been erased by now.”
“No doubt.” He climbed out once more. “Since it was deemed irrelevant it may not have been added to any of the case files. But what we can do is find out if someone who worked at the convenience store during the time those five were taken might be relevant. Or maybe one of them will remember something.”
“That person could even be the kidnapper,” Charly offered.
“Possibly.”
“I say—” Charly grabbed the next fruit basket “—we go there as soon as we finish here.” She bit her lip.
Hoped she didn’t sound too bossy. He might want to go now and get started.
Restocking the cabins with snacks, water and fruit baskets was her job, not his.
Besides, he certainly didn’t need her tagging along.
“That’s the plan,” he confirmed. “Same thing here?” He jerked his head toward the cabin.