Chapter 6 Calder #2
Attraction wasn’t a new feeling to me. Like everything else, it had a purpose. An appropriate time and place when I could indulge in something casual, usually with someone I’d meet while on a case. It was easier that way. Safer not to risk the complications of an involvement with someone local.
But this . . . what I felt for Lara . . . was unfamiliar. An exception to even the rules I had for attraction.
It lacked all reason and rational sense, and made me want to shove her against the wall in the middle of a crowded diner and kiss her senseless.
One would think my relationship with her sister would’ve created at least a mental barrier if not a physical one, yet there was nothing. Less than nothing.
I could hardly even remember kissing Rachel or what it had felt like, let alone wield that memory like some kind of shield.
I stopped next to Lara’s rental, which had a prime parking spot from earlier. Her shoulder brushed my arm as she came to my side, and I stiffened, regretting for the millionth time my decision to bring her along.
Wordlessly, I opened the brochure, the front having no information besides Wilderness Within: A Relationship Transformation.
“‘Reconnect with your authentic self to attract authentic love. At Wilderness Within, we believe the path to meaningful relationships begins with self-discovery,’” Lara read aloud, and though unnecessary, I was grateful for something to fill the silence other than the drum of my warring heart.
She continued reading below the photo montage of loving couples and smiling faces: “‘Singles: Discover why past relationships failed, discover your true desires, and learn how to attract a partner who truly sees you. Couples: Rekindle what brought you together through guided experiences that create lasting bonds.’”
Reaching over me, she pulled the flap open, bypassing the rest of the promotional text.
“‘The journey to partnership excellence begins with a single step into the wild. Let us be your guide. Call for more information . . .’” The phone number was the only concrete detail included in the brochure.
“Hold on,” I said and handed her the paper.
Drawing my cell from my back pocket, I used it to snap a photo and sent if off to Callum with the message 411, meaning I needed all the information he could find.
“Let’s see what they have to say,” I muttered and entered the phone number from the back, making sure I set my phone on speaker after I hit the call button.
“Hello, thank you for calling Wilderness Within, where the path to meaningful relationships begins with self-discovery.” The receptionist regurgitated the headline on the brochure. “This is Brielle speaking. How can I help you connect today?”
Man, they laid it on thick.
“Hi, Brielle, my name is Colter Shaw,” I introduced myself with the overtly fake name, catching Lara’s raised brow. “I’m looking for a friend of mine who I believe might’ve signed up for your retreat, and I was wondering if you could confirm that for me? Her name is Rachel Crane.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Shaw.” If she picked up on the fictional alias I’d chosen, she didn’t let on.
“Unfortunately, we take our clients’ privacy very seriously.
In addition, as part of our program, we provide counseling with our therapist, Dr. Julia Maxwell, so we are also under strict patient-privacy laws as well. ”
Great.
“I fully understand,” I replied genially and then switched tactics. “I just haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, and we’re all starting to get concerned. I don’t want to file a missing persons report or send the police out searching if she is just immersed in your program.”
Sometimes the threat of police intervention loosened lips.
“I also do understand, Mr. Shaw,” she said, her exaggerated sympathy already telling me my tactic wasn’t going to work this time.
“Unfortunately, I still can’t disclose any information more than the details of our program, which is two to four weeks long depending on whether you are coming in as a single or as a couple.
In addition, we do mandate a no-cell-phone policy during the length of the retreat and collect those devices at the start of the seminar, so that could explain the lack of communication from your friend if she were participating. ”
While it filled in another missing piece of Rachel’s disappearance, it wasn’t enough.
“I appreciate the information, Brielle. Would it be possible to visit the retreat as a prospective guest?” I probed, holding back the part where we’d look for Rachel while we were there.
“No, I’m sorry. Growth and confidence in relationships blooms from the bedrock of security, so unlike other offerings, we don’t do gimmicky tours or guest visits during a running session in order to preserve the sanctity of our clients’ vulnerability while they are with us.”
Either she’d read the words enough times to own them, or she truly believed in what the retreat offered. Not that there was anything wrong with what they espoused to provide, but I was naturally wary of programs like this—promising self-help, secluded in nature, closed off to the public.
You only have to rescue one person from a cult to become skeptical of anyone promising miraculous transformations in the middle of the wilderness.
“We do offer limited tours between sessions,” she added, almost as a by-product of my silence.
“And when would that next opportunity be?”
“In two weeks.”
I turned away, hoping the speaker hadn’t caught Lara’s sharp gasp. “Great, thank you so much for all your help.”
“Of course. Thank you, Colter, for considering Wilderness Within, where every relationship starts wild—”
I hung up before she could finish.
“We can’t wait two weeks to look for Rachel,” Lara declared, folding her arms staunchly over her chest.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” I flipped open my messages and frowned, seeing no response from my brother. “I sent a photo of the brochure to Callum. He should be able to find a location.”
Lara turned, biting her bottom lip as she kicked a small stone around with her foot. “I can’t believe they won’t let you contact anyone there or even just confirm someone is okay.”
“It’s not uncommon for these types of places. They really try for that off-the-grid vibe,” I muttered, attempting my own search online for Wilderness Within, but their website was a carbon copy of the brochure. Lots of photos, little information.
“Maybe you should start hosting a retreat at the ranch,” she grumbled. “Show them how it’s done.”
I lifted my head and stuck her with a flat stare. Those who really lived off-grid didn’t host retreats to advertise it.
“It was a joke,” she clarified at my unamused expression, and then her brows popped up. “Also, Colter Shaw? Really?”
One corner of my mouth kicked just a bit higher. If she’d just started Deaver’s series, she was in for an ironic surprise when she reached Hunting Time and heard the pseudonym Mr. Shaw used.
“They say Michael Jordan uses the names Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne to stay anonymous when he travels.”
“Because that’s not suspicious,” she murmured, rolling her eyes. “Although one time, I did have a patient come in insisting his name was Frank Sinatra.”
I chuckled. “A legend.”
“In many ways,” she replied, and, when I cocked my head, added, “He came in around the holidays with a tree-shaped ornament stuck in a place it didn’t belong.” Now it was my turn to raise a brow. “Like I said. An ER legend.”
“I usually pick something more innocuous, but I thought you’d enjoy it,” I said and immediately tensed. Why would I admit to that—to using the main character’s name from the novels she’d mentioned reading?
In the retrieval business, it was pretty standard to use an alias for one reason or another. I had several, with varying degrees of credibility, but for a phone call, I could pick anything.
“So, is the singles’ program two weeks long and then it’s couples after that? Because it’s been longer than two weeks since I’ve heard from Rachel . . .” Lara pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her focus back on the brochure like it could tell her something new.
“Let’s see what Callum can find, and if we have a location—”
“I’m going to call them again.”
“For . . .” My protest faded because her cell was already at her ear.
Regardless of the retreat’s intentions, they weren’t going to give out any more information on their clients, no matter what she asked, but maybe she’d feel less helpless finding that out for herself.
Opening my message to Callum, I sent a string of question marks, hoping to urge him along. If he didn’t respond by the time she was off the phone, I’d call him. When I looked up again, Lara gave me a thumbs-up, which I guessed to mean the receptionist had answered.
“Hi, Brielle, my name is Lara Croft.” Our eyes connected, hers mischievous. “I’m calling because I picked up one of your brochures, and I’m interested in your program.”
I frowned. Tomb Raider . . . more like troublemaker.
“I see. That sounds wonderful. When is the soonest I could join the retreat?”
My head jerked up, shaking wildly as I mouthed, No. Lara turned away, presumably to ignore my warning. Dammit.
There was no way she was joining the program. That wasn’t the solution.
“Lara,” I warned low, knowing she could hear me.
Going undercover for information was risky and unpredictable, especially with no confirmation Rachel was even there. The safest, surest plan was to get a location for the retreat and surveil it for any sign of Rachel.
“So the singles’ introduction to the course started two weeks ago, and you can’t join afterward?” she confirmed to the woman for my benefit.
I let out a tight breath. Good.
My phone buzzed. Callum had texted back.
Two minutes.
“Oh, so the couples are just joining the program now.”
“Lara,” I growled and reached for her.
The wild woman scampered around the other side of her car like this was some kind of game.