Page 4

CHAPTER FOUR

S he gazed at the living room with its vaulted ceilings. A gorgeous gray stone fireplace took up one entire wall. On the other side, a staircase led to the second floor, where a walkway lined with doors was open to the living area below.

Aspen had known the house was almost three thousand square feet. She’d known it sat on five acres. She’d been told all that when Dad’s lawyer had read the will. She’d even seen a few photos.

She was still stunned.

Maybe because, deep down, she’d hoped to walk in the door and find her mother. Dad had given Aspen the impression she was here. Or maybe Aspen had filtered his words through a heavy dose of wishful thinking.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if her mother was still alive.

The thought thrummed in Aspen’s chest, beating a rhythm of hope.

When Aspen turned thirteen, she’d demanded to know what had happened to the woman who’d given birth to her. Dad had seemed reluctant, but she’d argued she was old enough to understand. Finally, he’d conceded. She could still see the kindness in his face when he sat her down that day.

“Your mother suffered from a mental illness. When you were a baby, she got into some trouble, and then she disappeared. Though we’ve never found her, she is presumed dead.”

Aspen had wanted to hope Dad was wrong, but he’d been so confident, adding, “If she were alive, sweetheart, she would have come home.”

Daddy had always been honest with her, and she’d accepted his words as truth. But ever since he’d told her about the house, about how he hadn’t done right by her mother, Aspen’s hope that she’d find her alive had grown. And hope didn’t disappoint, right? Wasn’t that what the Scriptures said?

She had a feeling she was interpreting that wrong.

Truth was, when she was thinking clearly, she couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she wasn’t disappointed by what she discovered. Nevertheless, she would stay on this journey until she learned the truth, however painful.

Her focus shifted from her missing mother to the house. Had her mother ever been there? She must have. Why else would Dad have bought the place? Mom hadn’t lived here, though, nor had her parents or Dad’s. Aspen had done the research and discovered where both her mother and father had lived in high school and the first couple of years of college, and it wasn’t here. After they married, they’d rented a house in town, but they hadn’t had much money. Dad had told her that much. Surely they couldn’t have afforded this.

What was their connection to the house?

It felt surreal being here. In a house she owned . An actual house on actual snow-covered land. She’d figured the place would be falling down. Wouldn’t it have to be if her father’d had the money to purchase it—in cash?

It wasn’t, though, not even close.

Garrett crossed the scuffed and scratched hardwood floors and stopped beside an open door beneath the staircase. There was another door beside him, probably a coat closet.

“Needs some work.” Garrett said. “But the fireplace is in great shape. We need new paint on the walls, and I’d recommend painting that dark woodwork white or cream to brighten the place up. Obviously, the floors need to be refinished. You don’t want to replace them. They’re in great shape, and it’s hard to find genuine hardwood these days. Everybody’s putting in vinyl or laminate. These”—he tapped his booted foot on the floor—“are unique. Other than that, this room doesn’t need much.”

She pulled a notebook and pen from her purse and started jotting down everything he said. It felt so foreign, this contractor talking to her as if she had the right to be there, to make decisions about a house she’d never even seen before. Everything felt so… bizarre and out of control.

She just needed to make a list. Stay organized. She could do this as long as she didn’t let any detail slip away.

After she wrote down what he’d said, she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. She’d been so overwhelmed outside, she’d barely noticed the man who’d greeted her. Now she wasn’t sure how she’d managed that. He had short light brown hair that somehow was both messy and perfect, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were blue, his lips lifted in a slight smile. He wore jeans and a thin T-shirt as if it weren’t freezing outside—and inside, come to think of it.

She rubbed her upper arms with hands still in rather useless leather gloves. She needed to get a pair like he’d been wearing.

“You’re not cold, are you?” He sounded amused.

“It’s no better than outside.”

“Only about forty degrees warmer. I turned on the heat yesterday. It’s sixty-nine in here. Plenty warm.”

“Maybe if you’re an Eskimo. It’s a wonder we can’t see our breath.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and inviting. “Does it ever get cold in Hawaii?”

“Sure, in some places. It snows at the top of Mauna Kea. But I’ve only been up there once.”

“Too far away?”

“Too cold. Nothing’s too far on the Big Island.”

Another low chuckle. As if Aspen hadn’t been overwhelmed enough, now she had to deal with a gorgeous contractor with a voice that soothed and a smile that drew her in.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Truth be told, I set the thermostat for seventy-two, figuring you’d prefer it warmer, but the furnace is having trouble keeping up. We’ll need to talk about having it serviced. Meanwhile”—he nodded to the fireplace—“I took the liberty of bringing you some firewood. I recommend you buy a cord or at least a rick.”

“Cord? Rick? I assume these aren’t people?”

“Uh, no.” His expressive eyebrows lowered. She doubted if he had any idea how obvious his thoughts were. Right now she’d guess he was thinking, How dumb is this lady?

Might as well confirm his guess. “I’ve never started a fire in a fireplace.”

His eyes narrowed, almost as if he were suspicious. “Where do you usually start fires?”

“You know, on the beach or at campsites. Outdoors.”

“You like to camp?”

“Not in New Hampshire. You’d have to be out of your mind.”

“Stick around. It’s not always winter.”

She didn’t think she’d be staying long enough to experience the other seasons. She just wanted to find her mother. But, as long as she had to be there to do that, she might as well renovate the house before she put it on the market. It would give her an excuse to get to know the town where she’d spent the first year of her life. The town where Dad had grown up and Mom had lived.

She’d sold Dad’s restaurants to the manager of his first one. Gene had worked for Dad as long as Aspen could remember. Though she’d hated to part with the places that meant so much to her father, she wouldn’t be going back to Hawaii anytime soon. Truth be told, even though she’d worked for Dad since she was old enough to wipe tables, she didn’t love the restaurant business. The problem was, she didn’t know what else she could do.

Now, with no job, Dad gone, Jaslynn in Nepal, and the rest of her friends marrying or moving away, Kona held no appeal. When she finished up here, she was going to college in Florida to study hospitality and tourism. She’d probably be one of the oldest full-time students, but what did that matter? Though the school she’d chosen had a great reputation, she’d chosen it more because it was near her dad’s parents. She hadn’t seen them much as she’d grown up, but they were the only family she had any contact with anymore.

There was no chance she’d be staying in the great white north.

“Should we continue?” Garrett pushed open the door he stood beside.

She stepped through. Same floors, bare walls, small windows that looked out at a snow-covered hill.

“No closet,” Garrett said, “and there’s no shower or bath on this floor, so it wouldn’t work as a bedroom. Could be a second living area or an office, or even a formal dining room.” He knocked on the wall behind him. “Kitchen’s right here, so we could open it up.”

No chance she was getting that deep into renovations.

She jotted down what he’d said. When she was finished, he stepped out, and she followed him through the living area to a door beneath the open walkway above.

“This is the current dining room,” he said.

The space was barely large enough for a table for four. She crossed to the window on the back wall beside a narrow doorway.

Beyond a snow-covered yard, the naked branches of a thousand trees were covered with a thin layer of snow. Dark green pines rose higher than the rest, reaching toward the bright blue sky.

It was gorgeous.

“I guess you don’t see a lot of scenes like that in Hawaii,” Garrett said.

“When I drove up yesterday, the world seemed gray and dingy, but this is… Wow.”

She was still staring at the scene when he cleared his throat.

“Like the living room, this room doesn’t need much.”

The yellowing paint needed to be covered, as did the brass light fixture on the ceiling. It was dark even on the sunny day, the one small window not nearly large enough to take advantage of the view.

“I don’t know your budget,” Garrett said, “but I have some recommendations for this room and the kitchen. If it were up to me, we’d tear this down”—he knocked on the wall separating them from the living room, then pointed to another wall with a door—“and that one, open this up and make it a great room.”

“That’s an idea.” One she wouldn’t be implementing.

Garrett pushed open the door and waited until she walked through.

The kitchen. It was as dark as the dining area, and everything was brown, from the cabinets to the wooden backsplash, from the butcher-block countertop to the vinyl floor. Even the walls, which might’ve once been white, were so dirty they were practically brown.

She groaned, and Garrett said, “Yeah. I know. It’s outdated in every way.”

There was an almond-colored refrigerator and a green built-in oven that must have come straight out of the seventies. The dishwasher matched it in color and age.

She couldn’t help a laugh. “It’s dreadful.”

Garrett smiled wide. “But imagine how beautiful it can be. Once we tear down these walls, it’ll be open and spacious. You’ll be able to see the fireplace from back here. We can put a bar where I’m standing, or maybe a peninsula that connects by the window, or maybe not. We could leave it open to the dining area. It would make the room so much more spacious.”

She could picture his vision. “It would be lovely, but?—”

“The cabinets are in great shape. I don’t know how you feel about a white kitchen, but we could paint them white or even light gray. Replace the backsplash, add granite or quartz countertops.”

Catching his vision, she swiveled and pointed to a tiny window beside a door. “Any chance we could enlarge that?”

“Absolutely. Maybe even replace both the window and the door with glass French doors to let in more light.”

“I love that idea.” They could make this place beautiful.

But…but that wasn’t why she was there.

She had to remember her purpose, and it wasn’t to create her dream home in a place she had no desire to live. Whatever she sold this house for would be gravy to her.

And how would renovating this place help her find her mother?

She forced a smile. “Those are all great ideas, but I’m not that ambitious. I just want to do what we have to do to honestly be able to call it updated. So I’m on board with paint, new appliances, new countertops and backsplash. We can have the floors refinished, replace this.” She scuffed her boot on the vinyl beneath her. “But beyond that?—”

“This place is a world of potential. Don’t you want to see what it can become?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to live here, so I honestly don’t care that much.”

He sighed. It was clear that he wanted to say something more. Instead, he gestured back through the door. “Let’s keep going.”

After peeking into a downstairs half-bath off the kitchen, which looked like an explosion of seventies orange, they headed upstairs.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the second floor.”

Garrett wasn’t wrong. Dad’s renter had painted the master bedroom and replaced the carpet. It was large enough for a king-sized bed and furniture. Like the ones downstairs, the windows were too small, especially considering the view. From this vantage point, she could see beyond the treetops to an expanse of white far below and a mountain rising in the distance.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Reluctantly, she moved on to the bath which, though outdated, was clean and functional.

Back in the walkway overlooking the living area, Garrett said, “With new paint and refinished floors, the bedrooms will be fine. I mean, you could replace that tiny window in the master with a bay, but…” He glanced at her, his expression one of dismay. “Anyway, up here, just the bathrooms need a lot of work.” He stopped by a door. “This one is the worst.”

Worse than what they’d found downstairs?

She pushed through and got her answer. The peach-colored tub was cracked. The vanity’s drawers were crooked. There was no mirror, just bare drywall where one should have been and, above that, an opening for a light fixture. Wires poked out of it. A tiny window high on the wall over the tub enabled them to see the space without flashlights.

“Obviously, everything needs to be replaced in here.”

He was standing behind her and, when she turned to respond, found he was very close.

He backed away. “Sorry. I was looking over your shoulder.”

“I’m glad the other bathroom is in decent shape, or living here would be very hard.”

“You got lucky there.” He showed her two empty bedrooms in decent shape. “Keep the doors to the rooms you aren’t using shut, and the other rooms will stay warmer.”

After she peeked into a linen closet, he stopped at the final door on the second floor. “This is where I put the things that were left. The house was filled with furniture and… Well, you’ll see.”

He opened the door, and she gasped at the sight. It was a bedroom, but filled with furniture, boxes, fabric. Stuff, everywhere.

“I got rid of some of it, but?—”

“Where did it all come from?”

“Most of it was left by the renter. Some of it, I think, was left by the previous owners. Everything belongs to you, so I didn’t feel right going through it or making decisions about it.”

“Why did the renter leave so much?”

Garrett’s eye contact slipped. “That’s sort of a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

An odd answer, but it didn’t matter.

She didn’t care about the renter’s stuff. She did care about anything left by the previous owners. Maybe the clues she needed to find her mother were in that room somewhere.

She couldn’t wait to start digging through it.

Aspen thought their tour was over, but when they got back to the first floor, Garrett stopped beside the second door beneath the stairs. He looked…nervous.

“Uh-oh,” she said. “What’s behind door number two?” She meant it as a joke, but when he took a deep breath as if gathering courage, her heart rate sped up. “What? Damage or something? Are you storing a crazy relative down there?”

“Crazy relatives are kept in the attic,” he said, his lips twitching in an almost-smile. “Everybody knows that.”

Bodies were buried in basements.

Surely, her mother wasn’t?—

She cut off the thought with a shake of her head. Obviously, her mother’s body wasn’t lying in the basement in plain sight. She needed to get a grip. “Just tell me what’s in the basement. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just not sure how to… It turns out, your renter was sort of a… Well, he was a…”

When he didn’t continue, she said, “How bad can it be?”

“A child pornographer, and a kidnapper, and, it turns out, a murderer.”

She stepped back, horrified. “Oh. Oh. I had no idea. Surely my father didn’t…”

“Your dad died a year ago, right?” At her nod, he said, “The guy rented after that. It’s a really long story, and thank God it had a happy ending. But he did some renovations down here. I just wanted to warn you.”

“There’s nothing gruesome or?—”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just… Come on. It’s easier just to show you.”

He opened the door, pulled a chain to turn on the light, and stepped aside for her.

Thanks to the anxiety bubbling in her stomach, she wanted to ask him to go first, but she wasn’t a child. She could do this.

She took the rickety wooden staircase to the bottom and found a normal cement basement with a washer and dryer and one small window just below the ceiling, through which she could see nothing but snow. Shelves holding a few tools covered the wall straight ahead. Otherwise, the room looked perfectly normal.

Except…

She looked up at the ceiling, tried to imagine the floor plan upstairs. “I’m probably just being paranoid, but it feels too small.”

“I’m impressed you noticed.”

“You alerted me to look for something, and there’s nothing to see here.”

If she were staying, she’d definitely install better lighting to dispel the spooky factor. She stepped further into the room and saw a giant metal… something under the stairs.

“The furnace,” Garrett said.

“Ah. That explains why it’s warm down here.”

“Come on.” He crossed to the bookshelves, reached behind one, did something she couldn’t see, and then pulled the shelf inward.

Not just the shelf, though. It was a hidden door.

Garrett stepped in and flipped a switch.

As the light flickered on, she followed. There was one door on the far wall. Otherwise, the space was empty, but something creepy and terrifying slid down her spine. Despite the warmth, she suddenly felt cold and afraid. “What is it?”

“It’s an empty room,” he said, his voice soothing. “Just an empty room.”

“Why does it feel so…?” She didn’t know how to finish her sentence without seeming like a crazy person.

She wasn’t crazy, was she?

Familiar doubts crept in. Was she more like her mother than she’d known? Was she losing her mind? “Do you feel it too?”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It’s the hidden doorway and”—he gently shifted to the side so she could see it better—“the locks. I took the liberty of removing them. I hope you don’t mind. They only opened from the other room, and it seemed like a hazard. If someone were to get trapped in here, there’s no way out.”

She saw the holes in the door and tried not to think about what he’d said.

“They were electronic locks, and they’re still wired. We could turn this into a panic room, if you wanted. Or just remove the false wall entirely.”

“So did he… the pornographer?—?”

“This was his photography studio, but from what I understand, he was never able to use it.” Garrett’s gaze flicked to the empty space beside them, and she got the feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her.

She was too creeped out to ask. She focused on the door across from them. It, too, sported holes where locks must’ve been. “Where does that lead?”

He pushed it open and turned on a light.

It was a small bedroom with two twin beds, a nightstand, and a bureau. She opened a door and found a closet, where sheets and blankets and towels were stored. Another door led to a bathroom. Everything in both rooms looked brand new.

“I can move the beds to the master, if you’d like. I got rid of the renter’s mattress, the one he had there. I didn’t figure you would want it. It was old, and also, you know… He was a?—”

“Good choice. Yes. Thank you.”

“But these are brand new,” Garrett said, “never used.”

“You know this how?”

“I was here when…” He blew out a long breath. “Let’s go back upstairs.”

She wasn’t sorry to leave that horrible place.

Back in the living room, he said, “Are you hungry?”

“After that? Not particularly.”

“Well, I’m starving. Let’s go to town and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you the story on the way, and then we can talk about what you want to do with this place.”

Despite what she’d just said, it’d been hours since the lemon scone and coffee she’d bought at a charming bakery not far from her hotel. She needed to get out of the house, into the bright sunshine and fresh air—frigid as it was. She needed to shake off the fear that clung to her and think.

“I’ll probably be hungry by the time we get there. I’ll follow you.”

At the front door, he dug into his pocket and held out two keys. “These are yours. I took the liberty of making a second. Maybe if I need to work and you’re not home…” He let the unspoken question hang there.

She wasn’t quite ready to let him keep a key to her place. “I’ll leave it somewhere for you.”

He dropped both keys in her palm. “Fair enough.” He opened the door. “I’ll drive.”

“But you don’t need to come back today.”

“I gotta move that furniture and get a fire going for you. Until we get the furnace looked at, you’ll want to be able to keep the place warm, right?”

“I can stay in the hotel again tonight.”

“You can do that if you want, but I figured you’d prefer to save the money. Or…” He stepped away. “Or maybe you’re nervous to be in the car with me, which I could understand. I mean, you barely know me.”

She laughed, the sound echoing off the tall ceiling. She stifled it quickly. “We went down to a creepy basement with hidden doors and a prison cell, and I survived. I think we’re beyond all that.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll drive and come back with you and get that furniture moved today, whether you want to stay here or not. That way, you’ll have the option. Tomorrow, I can focus on putting together a plan. Fair enough?”

When Aspen stepped into The Patriot, a homey restaurant in downtown Coventry, she could swear the room quieted, and every eye turned to her.

Of course she was being paranoid. Garrett didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he lifted his hand to wave at a man behind the lunch counter before he led her that direction.

She was still feeling spooked after the tour, and Garrett’s explanation in the car had only heightened the feeling. He’d told her about her renter and the woman and girl he’d planned to imprison in the house.

Aspen’s house. The thought was horrifying.

As Garrett had promised, the story’d had a happy ending. She’d focus on that and not the rest.

They reached the bar, and Garrett said, “Aspen Kincaid, meet James Sullivan.”

The man reached across the bar. “Nice to meet you.”

She yanked off her leather gloves and shook his hand.

“James owns this restaurant,” Garrett said, “and another business in town.”

“Just the one now,” James said.

“That’s right. You no longer give backpacking tours.” Garrett faced Aspen. “Their new baby is crimping his style.”

She could swear James’s chest expanded two sizes.

“You’re just jealous, man.” He yanked out his phone, tapped the screen, and tilted it toward Aspen. “Would you want to leave them at home to take a bunch of strangers backpacking?”

She studied the photo of the woman and child, a bald little blue-eyed infant girl. “They’re both gorgeous,” Aspen said.

The man beamed. “I know. Hallie is perfect. Gets her looks from her mom.”

“Anyway.” Garrett’s voice was tinged with irritation and humor. “If you’re done bragging about your family?—”

“Envy doesn’t look good on you.” He turned to Aspen. “I’m guessing you lost a bet if you’re having lunch with this guy.”

She laughed while Garrett growled beside her, which only made James’s smile spread.

Garrett said, “She inherited that old house up on Rattlesnake Road.”

James’s eyebrows hiked. “Does she know about?—?”

“Just told her. She’s new in town.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a great house. Beautiful views.”

“I’m excited about it,” Aspen said, almost meaning it.

“Do you care where we sit?” Garrett asked James.

“Nope. You beat the lunch crowd. Grab a table, and I’ll send a server over.” To Aspen, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She followed Garrett to a table by the window, but he changed his mind and led her closer to the back.

“Don’t want to be seen with me?”

He turned, grinning, and waited until she slid into the booth before sitting across from her. “It’s chilly by the windows. I figured you’d be warmer back here.”

“How thoughtful.”

A woman set two menus on the table and took their drink orders.

After she walked away, Aspen said, “Your friend seems nice.”

“He’s a good guy. We met at church.” He watched her as if gauging her reaction. “Maybe you’d like to come sometime?”

Aspen hadn’t missed a Sunday at her church in Kona since Dad’s death. Some people let tragedy separate them from God. Not Aspen. She’d leaned into Him in the last year, more desperate for her heavenly Father now that her earthly one was gone. “Which church?”

“Coventry Bible Fellowship. Modern worship, great pastor, in a hundred-year-old building.”

“I would love that,” she said. “I’ll be there Sunday.”

He smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. “Great. I’ll save you a seat, introduce you to some friends.”

Even though she wouldn’t be staying, the thought of meeting people in town, of having friends here—even temporarily—appealed to her.

The server returned to take their orders. Aspen hadn’t looked at the menu and scanned it quickly before ordering soup and salad.

“Seafood platter and onion rings.” Garrett handed over their menus. When she was gone, he said, “Now that you’ve seen the house, what do you think?”

She was formulating an answer when an old man stopped beside their table and greeted Garrett with a handshake. His hair, what was left of it, was dark gray, his eyes brown and clear when he turned to her.

“Bart Bradley.” He held out his age-spotted hand, and she shook it. It was cold, but his grip was strong.

She said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Aspen Kincaid.”

Without letting up his grip, the man studied her like one might a science experiment involving mold or bat feces. “You’re Jane’s daughter.”

Shock silenced her, but she managed a quick nod.

“You look just like her.” Bart’s eyes narrowed. “She ever turn up?”

It wasn’t the words so much as the tone, not to mention the way he was glaring at her, that had Aspen’s heartbeat racing.

Before she could respond, Garrett said, “Not sure her life or her mother’s are any of your business, Mr. Bradley.”

The old man finally let go of Aspen’s hand. He turned to Garrett. “What do you know about it?”

“I know you’re not being very friendly to someone new to town,” he said. “Either be polite or move along.”

This man had information about her mother, information she wanted, but she didn’t have the courage to ask questions, not seeing the sheer hatred in his eyes.

“Pardon my rudeness.” He looked anything but sorry. “Your mother caused a lot of heartache. I just wondered?—”

“She disappeared when I was a baby,” Aspen said.

He glared, and she held his eye contact, refusing to back down as if they were in some sort of battle of wills. Then he huffed and spun and stalked across the room.

This wasn’t about Aspen, it was about Jane. What had her mother done to garner such hatred?

And why did Aspen suddenly think she’d prefer even the creepy basement to this public restaurant?

In that low, soothing voice, Garrett said, “Sorry about that. He’s a crusty old man. I don’t know what it is that makes some old people shed their manners, not that Mr. Bradley ever had many to begin with.”

“He’s lived in town a long time, I guess.”

“All his life, I think.” Garrett seemed to be studying her now, and why not? He must not have known her connection to this town. He must be curious, but unlike Bart Bradley, he was too polite to ask.

“I was born here, but I haven’t lived here since I was a baby.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“I guess Bart Bradley thinks it’s his.” The old man knew more about her mother than Aspen did.

“You know what that was about?” Garrett asked.

“Not really.” She swallowed the grief and fear that rose in her throat. “But I need to find out.”