Secret Sisters

  “I don’t believe you,” Travis said.

  He reached into one of the pockets of the janitorial uniform and yanked out a tablet. He set the device on the receptionist’s desk. The gun in his free hand shook a little as he entered a code and then a series of numbers.

  “He’s in,” Jack said.

  Travis looked up, startled. “What—?”

  But the room was suddenly plunged into chaos as agents wearing dark jackets with the letters FBI emblazoned on the front and the back exploded through the front door.

  In the next instant Travis was facedown on the floor. His tablet was in the hands of one of the agents. Someone else confiscated his gun.

  Joe emerged from the scene of controlled chaos, grinning his skeletal grin.

  “Get everything?” he asked.

  “Every word.” Jack peeled off his jacket, reached inside his shirt, and took out the digital voice recorder. He handed the device to Joe. “It’s all yours.”

  Travis looked up. He stared at the recorder and then he looked at Jack.

  “Everyone said you were just a small-time security company,” he said.

  “I am a small-time security company,” Jack said. “But I’ve got aspirations.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Daphne stood at the window of Madeline’s office and looked out at the view of Sanctuary Creek.

  “So this is where you’ve been for the past eighteen years,” she said.

  Madeline moved to stand beside her. “Sanctuary Creek has been home ever since Grandma and I left Cooper Island.”

  There was an unfamiliar tension about her friend today, Daphne thought. It was as if Madeline was braced to take a big leap but she didn’t know how the landing would turn out.

  “I always knew you’d wind up running your own business,” Daphne said.

  “Is this going to be another observation about my tendency to go to the bottom line?”

  “Nope. This is going to be an observation about how right you look here in the executive suite of Sanctuary Creek Inns. You were born for this, Maddie.”

  “Well, I was raised in the business.” Madeline paused. “What about you? Is Denver home or do you think you might consider a career move that involves relocating?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I guess I’m asking you if you’re really attached to Denver.”

  “There’s nothing for me back in Denver. But I do have some clients there. Why?”

  Madeline walked back across the room to stand behind her desk. “Sanctuary Creek Inns is embarking on a long-range series of renovations. All of the hotels need updating and a fresh new look. But each one must have its own personality. It’s a core tenet of the company that while we encourage customer loyalty to the chain, we really focus on building a unique customer base for each inn.”

  “I understand. What is this about?”

  “There will be a separate design team for each of the inns, but I need someone here at headquarters to oversee all of the projects. The timeline is five years, and by the end of that period it will be time to start over. Hotel renovation is a never-ending process.”

  A rush of excitement hit Daphne like a powerful drug. She was suddenly exhilarated beyond measure.

  “Are you inviting me to interview for the position of designer in chief?”

  “Actually, I’m offering you the job. I would be thrilled if you take it, but I will understand if you don’t want to do interior designs for a chain of hotels. I realize it’s not the same as designing private living spaces or offices. At Sanctuary Creek Inns we’re all about the fantasy—”

  “I accept,” Daphne said.

  Madeline blinked. “Just like that?”

  “There’s nothing pulling me back to Denver.”

  “I may have to lie down and put a cool cloth on my brow. First Jack says he’ll marry me and now you tell me you’ll move to Sanctuary Creek and take a job renovating my hotels. Life is good.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Something tells me I’m not the only one who will be excited to know that you’re moving to town. Abe Rayner will be a very happy man.”

  “Yes, I got that impression when he told me that he was considering a move to Denver.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “But it turns out that everything I want is right here in Sanctuary Creek,” Daphne said. “Abe won’t have to relocate.”

  “It’s home,” Madeline said.

  “I’ve been wanting one of my own for a long time.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  The ghostly ruins of the abandoned hotel loomed in the heavy fog.

  “Looks like a scene out of a horror movie, doesn’t it?” Daphne asked.

  “Nightmare at Aurora Point,” Madeline said. She studied the scene through the windshield of the rental car. “I can’t wait to get rid of the place. I just hope I can find a buyer.”

  When she had announced that she was returning to Cooper Island to finish cleaning out Tom Lomax’s cottage and put Aurora Point on the market, Daphne had insisted on accompanying her. So had Jack. You’re not going back there alone, Jack had argued. He had left Abe behind in Sanctuary Creek to catch up on business at the office.

  The three of them had arrived on the island a short time ago. Jack had decided to take the opportunity to have one last conversation with the chief of police. He planned to give Dunbar the details of how the case had concluded. Cops like answers, he’d explained. Dunbar has a right to some. In my business you need to stay on good terms with law enforcement. You never know when you’re going to need a favor.

  They had dropped him off at the island’s small police station before heading for Aurora Point.

  Daphne unbuckled her seat belt and opened the passenger-side door. “There will be a buyer. Objectively speaking, Aurora Point is actually quite attractive. It has good bones, as we in the design business like to say.”

  “You’re right.” Madeline got out from behind the wheel. “That’s why my grandparents bought it in the first place. I might be able to interest a company that specializes in setting up corporate retreats and seminars. I’ll make some calls when we get back to Sanctuary Creek.”

  Daphne smiled at her across the hood of the SUV. “Good to hear you thinking like a businesswoman again.”

  “Good to have my secret sister back again,” Madeline said.

  She opened the back of the SUV and removed the two empty suitcases. Daphne took one of them. They started toward the cottage that Tom had called home for so many decades. The fog was so heavy that it was impossible to see the little structure until they were only a few yards away.

  Daphne followed Madeline into the cottage and stopped short at the sight of the overwhelming clutter. “Do we have a plan here?”

  “Yes, we do. We’re going to ignore ninety-nine-point-nine percent of this stuff. We’ll leave it for the buyer to deal with, whoever that turns out to be. Same with the furniture in the hotel.”

  “Some of that furniture in the lobby qualifies as antique.”

  “I know, but I don’t want any of it. Do you?”

  Daphne shuddered. “No.”

  “Today I just want to take a second look around for anything that might tell us whether Tom had some distant family connections. He was clearly willing to believe that he had a long-lost granddaughter, so maybe there’s still someone, somewhere who will care that he’s gone.” Madeline paused. “I think I’d like to keep a couple of his pictures, too—one or two of the framed scenes that he signed.”

  Daphne hesitated. “Maybe I will, too—one of the pictures of the two of us, I think.”

  “Same here.”

  “Okay, I’ll start in the bedroom. We didn’t get far there the other day.”

  Madeline went into the kitchen and started opening drawers.

>   It was a dispiriting job. Everyone had a junk drawer in the kitchen, but Tom’s were world-class archaeological sites containing relics from decades past. She rifled through yellowed newspaper clippings that seemed to be utterly random in terms of subject matter. Faded photographs filled other drawers, but most featured Tom’s favorite subjects—landscapes, sunsets, and the ruins of the Aurora Point Hotel.

  She started to go out into the living room but stopped short when she noticed the clipping tacked to the wall. It was the picture of Travis’s wife, Patricia, displaying a picnic basket filled with corn bread.

  PATRICIA WEBSTER SHARES FAMILY CORN BREAD RECIPE AT COMMUNITY PICNIC

  In response to requests, Mrs. Webster explained that it was an old family recipe with a secret ingredient . . . sour cream.

  Sour cream was underlined in red pen.

  Tom had always been a canned-beans-and-rice kind of cook. Why in the world had he bothered to cut out the newspaper story featuring Patricia Webster? And why underline the words sour cream?

  She pulled the thumbtack out of the clipping, intending to show it to Daphne. A photo fell out from behind the newspaper article. It dropped to the floor.

  For a moment she looked at it, uncomprehending. It was a picture of Ramona holding a plate of corn bread. She was smiling at the camera.

  Madeline turned the photograph over, looking for a date. On the back, scrawled in Tom’s handwriting, were the words Family recipe—sour cream. Sunrise Sisters.

  Madeline went cold. With the newspaper clipping and the photograph in hand, she went back out into the living room.

  “Daphne, I need you to look at something I just found,” she called.

  She stopped in the middle of the room and studied the framed pictures that covered the walls. Sunrise Sisters was displayed in the center. It was a photo of the hotel taken against the fiery light of a copper-and-gold sunrise. The lobby of the old hotel was silhouetted against the brilliant colors. She and Daphne were pictured standing at the cliff’s edge, looking out over the water. Two young girls excited about the future.

  Tom’s dying words came back. You always liked my sunrises.

  She crossed the room and took the picture off the wall. There was an envelope taped to the back of the frame. Anticipation and dread whispered through her.

  “Daphne? I think I’ve found something important.”

  She tore open the envelope and dumped the contents onto the desk. Photographs tumbled out. The first photo showed a man climbing out from behind the wheel of an expensive SUV. The vehicle was parked in a stall in front of a suburban condo complex. The man wore sunglasses and a peaked cap that concealed most of his face. But the SUV looked exactly like the car that Travis drove. The photographer had been careful to catch the license plate in the scene. It would be easy enough to verify that it was Travis’s car.

  The second picture was taken from a different angle but it showed a woman emerging from one of the condos. She, too, was wearing dark glasses. The hood of her stylish parka was pulled up to partially conceal her profile, but her lean, long-legged build was easy to identify. Ramona.

  Tom must have grown suspicious of her at some point, Madeline realized. It must have been heartbreaking for him to realize that there was no long-lost granddaughter, after all. He realized he had been played. That was when he had called and told her that he had to talk to her in person.

  She picked up the third photo. Shock jolted through her. She stared at it for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the picture. Then she put it down and dove into her tote for her phone. She entered Jack’s number, even as she shouted down the hall.

  “Daphne, come here. You’ve got to see what I just found—”

  Daphne appeared. She was not alone. Patricia Webster was with her. Patricia had a gun in her hand and it was pointed at Daphne’s head.

  “I’m sorry, Maddie,” Daphne whispered.

  Patricia motioned briefly with her free hand and mouthed the words end it. She reinforced the command by pressing the barrel of the gun more tightly against Daphne’s head.

  “What?” Jack asked in his inimitable style.

  “Sorry,” Madeline said quietly into the phone. “I hit your number by mistake, Jack.”

  “How’s the photo sorting going?”

  “Not bad. Oh, I got the recipe for you.”

  “What recipe?”

  “The one pinned to the wall in the kitchen. You remember. You said you wanted to try it.”

  “As I recall, what I said was that I would never use sour cream in corn bread.”

  “I think I’ll try whipping up a batch. Got to go now. Lot of work left to do here.”

  She ended the call.

  “Good,” Patricia said, her voice brittle with tension. “You handled that well. Now just keep doing as you’re told and this will all be over soon.”

  “You know,” Madeline said, “I’m a little surprised to see you here. If I were in your shoes I would have been as far away as I could get from Cooper Island.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to return, Madeline. I knew you would, you see. Sooner or later you had to do something about getting rid of the hotel. I was sure you would come back here to take care of things. What I didn’t know was that you would bring some of your friends with you.”

  “Got it,” Madeline said. “You’ve decided that I’m the reason your big plan fell apart. You want revenge. Tell me, how long did you and Ramona Owens, or whatever her name was, work on the con?”

  “Two years, damn you. And it wasn’t a con. It was my dream—everything I ever wanted. It was supposed to be my life. Simply seducing Travis Webster would have been easy enough. He’s just like his old man when it comes to women. He’ll screw any pretty face that comes along.”

  “But you wanted to be more than just another lay. You wanted to marry him.”

  “He had everything he needed to go far—the looks, the charisma, the family money—everything. But he wasn’t interested at first. When I met him his only goal was to rob his father’s hedge fund blind before the Webster pyramid scheme fell apart. I’m the one who made Travis dream big.”

  “You dazzled him with visions of real power—the kind that comes with high office—and he fell for the promise.”

  “Convincing a man that he has what it takes to be rich or powerful isn’t really all that difficult,” Patricia said. “Men always want to believe what you’re selling, you see. Ramona and I had considerable success running cons on the hedge fund boys. But Travis Webster was going to be our ticket to a new future. He was the one who had what it took to break into politics. That’s where the real power is.”

  “You convinced him that he needed you to make it to the top,” Madeline said. “You got him to marry you. When did you realize that there were a few bits and pieces of the Webster family history that had to be erased?”

  Patricia’s expression tightened with fury. “The bastard didn’t even hint that there was something off about the founding of his father’s hedge fund until after the wedding. Then he admitted that he was afraid Egan had a couple of real skeletons in the closet. He found them when he went digging into his own family history.”

  Daphne stirred. “You knew that as soon as Travis became a serious candidate, the media would start excavating his past.”

  “We didn’t think the deaths of Carl Seavers and Sharon Richards would be a problem. There was no there there, as they say. Absolutely zero evidence that Webster had anything to do with the deaths. Travis was more concerned that his crazy brother and his father’s financial manipulations might be the real problems for the campaign. It was Travis who first suggested that something permanent would have to be done about Xavier.”

  “What made you realize there might be a more serious problem with the murders of Seavers and Richards?” Madeline asked.

  “Travis talked to his
mother about his plans to run for office. Louisa was thrilled. But when he mentioned that he was concerned about the unsolved killings in the past because they coincided with the founding of Egan Webster’s hedge fund, Louisa got very nervous. She finally broke down and told Travis that she had hired a private investigator to follow Egan to see who he was sleeping with. The PI disappeared. The next thing she knew, Egan told her he had received a blackmail threat, supposedly about some insider trading thing. Louisa was horrified. She suspected the extortionist might have been the PI she hired, but she could hardly admit that to Egan. So she kept quiet.”

  “And then the blackmailer just disappeared. The demands stopped.”

  “Louisa told Travis she hadn’t known what to think so she just kept silent. But Travis was worried. So he and I set out to discover what had happened to the PI Louisa had hired. Ramona assisted us. I trusted her, you see.”

  “Because the two of you had worked together on other scams.”

  “Yes. Eventually Ramona found Purvis’s sister. She was a junkie who’d been living from fix to fix for years. Ramona gave her a free fix and the woman told her that her brother had borrowed her car and taken off for some island in the Pacific Northwest. Purvis had told her that he was onto something really big, a business venture that was going to make him rich. He promised to share some of the cash with her.”

  “But she never heard from him again.”

  “And being a confirmed addict, she didn’t waste any money looking for her missing brother,” Patricia said. “But after Purvis disappeared, the landlord of his office building cleared out the office. He dumped everything into a cardboard box and gave it to Purvis’s next of kin—his sister. She stuck the box in a closet and never thought about it again. Ramona bought the whole box of files for the promise of another fix.”

  “And then murdered Purvis’s sister with the final fix,” Daphne said.

  Patricia shrugged. “She just gave her a very pure dose. Junkies OD all the time.”

  “What did you find in the files?” Madeline asked.