Dangerous Sanctuary Page 13

  She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a banana and an apple from the counter and tossed them into a lunch sack. She hadn’t been hungry lately, but her clothes were loose, and she didn’t have time to shop for new ones. Eating was a more practical solution to the problem.

  She dropped the sack into her backpack. It had been returned by the Vermont police. They’d also returned her car keys, her Ford Explorer, her laptop and her phone. Everything she’d brought to The Sanctuary was back in her possession. She hadn’t transported a gun to Vermont. She’d left her service weapon locked in the safe at her apartment. She’d retrieve it on her way to the office. For a moment, the thought of entering her apartment building and walking up the two flights to her floor filled her with anxiety and dread. There’d been no threats against her since she’d returned, no reason to believe she was still in danger. Absalom had called her the living sacrifice. With the amount of drugs he’d had in his system when he died, it was likely that he’d been suffering from drug-induced psychosis and that Honor had been the object of his deranged fantasy.

  That was what Wren had indicated, and Honor had no reason not to believe her.

  There were still days when she didn’t feel safe, though. Times when a floor would creak, or fabric would rustle, and she’d be certain Absalom had survived and was waiting in the shadows to finish what he’d started.

  She shuddered. Wren had sent Jessica Anderson, a criminal profiler and victims’ rights advocate, to speak with Honor. Two days later, the team psychologist had paid her a visit. She’d told them that she was fine. She had meetings with both this morning. They’d make the final decision regarding whether she was ready to return to work full-time. Even with the medical doctor’s okay, there were a few roadblocks that needed to be removed. The earlier she got to the office, the more relaxed she’d feel when she met with Jessica at seven.

  She slid into low heels, grabbed her purse and stepped outside.

  It was still dark, the sky sprinkled with stars. She’d parked the Explorer around the side of the house. She unlocked it remotely as she rounded the corner. She might not still be in danger, but the silence reminded her of the peaceful sanctuary that had once hidden a monster.

  Her phone rang as she climbed into the SUV. She answered quickly, expecting the call to be work-related. She’d been away from the office for five weeks, and the backlog of cases was piling up.

  “Hello?” she said, starting the engine and turning up the heat.

  “Honor? It’s Mary Alice. I’m sorry for calling so early, but I spoke with Special Agent Santino yesterday. She said you’d be returning to work today.”

  “That’s right,” Honor agreed, her pulse racing. She’d been hoping for this and dreading it. Their friendship had been like a cozy comforter—familiar and warm. Now it was an ill-fitting wool suit—scratchy and uncomfortable.

  “I...was wondering if you’d be willing to meet with me there? I’ve been asked to come in for another interview, and I have an appointment with Agent Tumberg at nine.”

  “I can meet you before or after that,” Honor said, keeping her tone even and emotionless. There was too much between them to go back to the easy repartee they’d once shared, but she wasn’t going to refuse the meeting. She wanted the truth. Whatever it was. Once she had that, she could decide what to do about the friendship.

  “Before would be best. I have a doctor’s appointment at ten.”

  “Is everything okay?” Honor asked, just like she would have before the canceled wedding and the blown-off phone calls, the ignored texts and emails and the months of near silence. It was hard not to care after caring for so long, and dozens of questions popped into her mind.

  “That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. I know I haven’t been a good friend these past few months.”

  “No. You haven’t.”

  Mary Alice was silent for a heartbeat too long, and then she sighed. “You always have been the straight shooter, Honor. Maye if I were more like you none of this would have happened.”

  “None of what?”

  “It’s...just a really hard thing to talk about.”

  “When I was in Vermont, you said you wanted to talk. It’s been three weeks, and this is the first I’ve heard from you. We’ve been friends for years, and I love you, but I’m not going to keep chasing after the dangling carrot.”

  “You’re angry, and I don’t blame you. I’d be mad, too. I wanted to come out to the farm, but it was too awkward, and I thought it would be better to wait until you were back at work.”

  “Awkward? You’ve been at the farm hundreds of times.”

  “I know. I just... I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

  “I’ll be in my office by six-thirty, but I have two meetings scheduled between seven and eight. You can come to my office any time after that,” Honor said.

  “Right. Okay. I’ll see you later.” Mary Alice disconnected, and Honor sat in the Explorer, the engine rumbling, heat streaming out of the vents. She wanted to believe that Mary Alice would walk into her office, sit across from her and say a bunch of words that would make everything better. She wanted to believe that they’d both pour their hearts out the way they had when they were teens and bickering over stupid things like boys or grades or makeup choices.

  They’d lived a lifetime of experience since then. College, relationships, jobs, heartaches. They’d matured, they’d learned, they’d become better able to handle whatever came their way. They shouldn’t have had a spat that had kept them apart for this long, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t believe that a meeting was going to fix whatever had broken between them.

  “But You can, Lord,” she whispered, and all she could do was pray that He would.

  She turned on the radio, letting upbeat praise music fill the silence. She had a long day ahead, and she wanted to be focused and effective, not distracted by something that she had no control over.

  She pulled around the side of the house, humming along with the music, trying to put herself in a good frame of mind, because that was what people at work would expect—upbeat, cheerful Honor. The team member most likely to be smiling. Henry had called her that once. Hopefully, she wouldn’t disappoint everyone. Currently, she felt as much like smiling as she did facing rush-hour traffic.

  She was halfway up the quarter-mile driveway when the engine sputtered and coughed. Surprised, she glanced at the dashboard, realized the low-fuel light was on. It made sense. She’d driven to Vermont without fueling up. She doubted the officer who’d driven the vehicle back to her place would have thought to fill the tank. The engine sputtered again, and she coasted to the side of the drive, parking in the long grass.

  She had gasoline in the barn, and she’d filled the five-gallon can before she’d left for Vermont.

  She climbed out of the Explorer and headed back.

  The barn was behind the house, and she walked there quickly, the cold air seeping through her suit. She had a key to the barn’s side door and she unlocked it, stepping into the scent of hay and horse feed. Mice scurried in the eaves, and the barn cat darted by. She kept the gas can near the tractor, and she found it without turning on a light. She had it in her hand when someone lunged from behind a bin of feed. She whirled to defend herself, heard something whooshing through the air, felt the painful impact of something slamming into her head.

  She fell, but she went fighting, clawing at a hand that pressed against her throat. Something smashed against her face, covering her mouth and nose. She inhaled without meaning to, and her mind went fuzzy, her body limp. She couldn’t see a face. Just darkness and gleaming eyes. A ski mask. Light-colored eyes. The world went black, and when she came to, she was outside. Black sky. Glittering stars. Wilbur squealing and slamming against the gate to his pen. Hard earth beneath her, and someone beside her, tossing planks of wood onto the ground near her shoulder. She
rolled onto her side, trying to get to her knees, but he was there again. Ski mask and chemical-soaked cloth, cursing under his breath, and she felt the way she had in the hospital—as if she should know something but didn’t.

  Wilbur was still squealing, and she could see him trotting in her direction, his two-hundred-pound body gleaming in the predawn gray. And then she was being dragged across the grass, pushed over what felt like a rocky ledge. It took her too long to realize what it was, where she was. The old well. The one that had been boarded up years ago. It wasn’t boarded now, and she was being shoved over the edge. She tried to stop her fall, grabbing for the stone wall. It crumbled, and she barely managed to find another handhold.

  Wilbur’s yelps grew louder, and the man howled, cursing again. Wilbur must have bitten him. Hopefully, he’d repeat the offense. She had her toes wedged in cracks in the interior wall of the well. She levered up, her hands still holding onto the ledge. She managed to get her shoulders up and out, but the man was there again, rag pressed to her face, shoving her backward, and this time she couldn’t grab the wall. She tumbled into the darkness, hands and feet scrabbling against old stone and slick moss as she fell.

  * * *

  Radley had spent countless hours poring over Honor’s case. He’d combed through evidence, conducted interviews, attempted to find a reason why Absalom Winslow had wanted Honor dead. Wren seemed to think the attempted murder had been the product of drug-induced paranoia. She’d presented that idea to the team at their last meeting. He couldn’t deny that it had merit. The fact was, all the evidence seemed to point in that direction. Aside from Mary Alice, there was no connection between Honor and Absalom. Mary Alice had submitted to and passed a polygraph, she’d allowed herself to be interviewed twice, and she’d agreed to come in again. From what Radley could ascertain, she was being honest when she said she hadn’t hired Absalom to harm Honor, hadn’t plotted with him to do that and hadn’t helped him in his efforts.

  What would she have gained from doing any of those things? He’d seen her bank records when he’d checked to make sure she hadn’t withdrawn or deposited large amounts of money recently. She was, as Honor had indicated, wealthy. She seemed to be financially responsible. No large debts. No properties going into foreclosure or overdrawn bank accounts. She’d taken a leave of absence from her job five months after she’d called off her wedding, but she had enough money to not have to work for the rest of her life.

  If Mary Alice was involved, it wasn’t for financial gain.

  And he couldn’t think of any other motive she might have. Neither woman had a significant other, so there shouldn’t be jealousy issues. He’d spoken to mutual friends. He’d interviewed Mary Alice’s parents. He’d spoken with her friends. As far as they were all concerned, Mary Alice had gone to a spiritual sanctuary to try to put her life back together after a devastating breakup.

  He tapped a pencil on his desk, staring at the mug shot that was lying on top of several other papers. Absalom had been younger in it, his face not as gaunt, his eyes not as shadowed or empty-looking. He’d still been going by the name Kenneth Allen, but he’d already had a two-page rap sheet. Petty stuff mostly. Possession. DUI. Simple assault. His mother had made the call once, accusing him of battery when he was eighteen. She had a rap sheet, too, and was doing time for ID theft and extortion. She’d taken photos of the manager of the building she cleaned and threatened to go to his wife with proof that he was having an affair.

  Based on phone records and email accounts, it didn’t look like Absalom had had contact with his mother in the past few years. She’d been informed of her son’s death, and Radley planned to meet with her at the end of the week to discuss her son. He doubted she’d have anything helpful to say, but he had to follow the lead and see where it led.

  Someone tapped on his door.

  “Come in,” he called, gathering the papers and stacking them neatly in a file folder.

  The door opened and Jessica Anderson entered. Five-foot-nothing with light brown skin and vivid green eyes, she’d been recruited from her job with the state police and had joined the unit a month ago.

  “Agent Tumberg, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” she said, her tone formal and a little stiff.

  “Not at all. Would you like to have a seat?”

  “No. Thank you.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s early, and I haven’t had coffee, so I’ll cut to the chase. I was supposed to meet Agent Remington in her office twenty minutes ago. Agent Santino asked me to make sure her transition back to work goes smoothly.”

  “Honor has been through a lot,” he agreed, even though she hadn’t asked his opinion. He’d been trying to stay as emotionally removed from the case as he could. It had been a lot more difficult than he’d have liked.

  Honor was a coworker, and that would have made it hard enough. But the time they’d spent in Vermont had forged a bond between them. No matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how many times he told himself nothing had changed between them, the facts were the same—he couldn’t look at Honor without seeing a woman he admired and liked and enjoyed spending time with. He couldn’t listen to her voice and not think about those moments on the rooftop, her sweet, silly words, her act of heroism, the way her lips had felt beneath his.

  “She hasn’t arrived,” Jessica stated bluntly, the words like ice water through his veins.

  “You’re sure?” He could think of a few things that might have kept her from work. Dotty. Traffic. A medical emergency. He couldn’t think of any that would have kept her from calling to reschedule meetings she was going to be late for.

  “Yes. I called her cell and home phone. No answer on either. I’ve got to admit, I’m worried.”

  He grabbed the desk phone, dialing Honor’s number quickly. It went directly to voice mail. He left a terse message for her to call and then tried her home number. This time, he heard the distinctive click of someone lifting the receiver.

  “Hello? Who is this? Why are you calling me this time of day? Don’t you know that decent people are in bed this time of day?” a woman demanded.

  “Ms. Dotty?” he guessed, and she huffed.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Radley Tumberg. Honor’s coworker.”

  “Radley! How are you, dear? When do you plan to visit again? We have a drippy faucet in the bathroom that could really use a man’s touch.”

  “I can stop by this weekend.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll make you a nice meal. Honor will help. She’s a great cook. Have I mentioned that?”

  “A few times.” Just like she’d mentioned that Honor knew how to change a tractor tire, sew on a button, saddle a horse and plow a field. Every time he was at the farm, he got a dozen hints that he and Honor might be a perfect match. “Speaking of Honor, has she left for work yet?”

  “She planned to leave before five. You know how she is. Always worried about punctuality.”

  “Did she leave on schedule?” he persisted, because Dotty hadn’t answered the question, and he needed to know.

  “I’m sure she did. Honor always does what she says she will, but I can check her room if you’d like me to.”

  “I would. Thanks.” He met Jessica’s eyes. He could see his concern reflected there.

  “Is everything okay, Radley?” Dotty asked. “You sound upset.”

  “I just...wanted to make sure Honor was on the way in.”

  “She should be there. Her door is open. She’s not in the room. Not in the bathroom. I’m looking out the window, and her car is gone.”

  “All right. Thank you. I’ll see you this weekend,” he said, not wanting her to know how worried he was.

  “Young man,” she barked before he could hang up. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “We don’t know that anything is,” he hedged, but he
felt the truth in his gut.

  “Is she there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then something is wrong. I’m calling my son. He’ll bring me out your way. We’ll look for the car. Maybe she had a flat tire.”

  She hung up, and he placed the phone in the receiver. Met Jessica’s eyes. “I don’t like this.”

  “Do you want me to call Agent Santino?”

  “Yes. I’ll call the county and state police. Ask them to put out an APB on her car.”

  His cell phone rang, and he pulled it out, hoping it was Honor explaining why she was running late.

  Instead, he saw Dotty’s home number. His heart leaped. Maybe she’d made a mistake. Maybe Honor was still in the house. “Hello?”

  “I found her car,” Dotty announced without preamble.

  “So she is still home?” He dropped into the chair, his legs almost weak with relief. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on what that meant.

  “I don’t think so. I was getting ready to call Bennett, and I looked out my bedroom window. I can see the driveway from there, and I am pretty certain I can see her car parked off to the side of it. I’m going to walk out there and take a look, but I thought I’d call you first.”

  “No!” he nearly shouted, and then he schooled his voice and his tone and tried again. “What I mean is that it’s probably best if you call the local police and have them check it out.”

  “Because you think something happened to her. Something you don’t want me to see,” she said.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but if someone is out there, someone dangerous, I don’t want you out there, too.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I have my husband’s shotgun, and I’ll take it with me.”

  “Ms. Dotty,” he began, but he heard the quiet click as she disconnected, and he knew she was heading off to do exactly what she’d said.

  He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on as he ran into the hall. He couldn’t shake the image of Honor’s SUV abandoned beside her driveway. He couldn’t stop mentally listing all the reasons why she might have stopped there.