Page 28 of The Catcher (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #5)
A fter the evening sun had melted below the horizon, spreading a golden glow over the tranquil waters of High Peaks, Natalie Ashford led the young couple through the expansive kitchen of the luxurious lakeside property at the end of Abenaki Way.
Soft moonlight filtered through the windows, bathing the room in a warm, inviting ambiance as Natalie showcased the heart of the home.
“And here we have the kitchen,” Natalie said with a smile, gesturing toward the gleaming countertops and modern appliances. “With its spacious layout and state-of-the-art amenities, it’s a great place for entertaining friends or just enjoying a quiet evening with family.”
As she continued the tour, Natalie’s voice carried a note of enthusiasm as she highlighted the property’s features.
She spoke of the eight-bedroom home with its charming window views of the lake and mountains, the cozy fireplaces that added warmth to the spacious rooms, and the sprawling wrap-around deck that offered breathtaking vistas of the surrounding landscape.
“When you step outside onto the deck, you’ll be greeted by stunning views,” Natalie continued, leading the couple through the sliding glass doors and onto the expansive outdoor living space.
“From here, you can enjoy the stately lawn, mature gardens, and private trails that wind through the woods. It’s one of our most private properties. ”
As they strolled along the manicured grounds, Natalie painted a picture of idyllic lakeside living, describing the amenities that made it truly unique. She pointed out the private island, the two-slip boathouse, and the sandy-bottom beach cove where one could swim or relax in the evening breeze.
“Just imagine it, guys. You could spend your evenings gathered around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and watching the stars,” Natalie said, her voice filled with warmth.
“There’s something here for everyone, from the tennis court to the cozy nooks where you can unwind and enjoy the peace and tranquility of the Adirondacks. You’ll love it!”
Natalie led the couple back inside as the tour drew to a close, only to find Noah in the kitchen waiting for her.
“It’s got to be said, the Ashfords really know how to roll out the red carpet to get a yes.
A twenty-year-old organic wine imported from Italy,” he said, glancing at the bottle before knocking back a glass.
“But be careful. Word to the wise. Please don’t drink too much; they’re liable to take photos of you and then blackmail you.
A common tactic used by the Ashford family. ”
Natalie was mortified. She glanced at the couple, who looked confused. Natalie faked a laugh. “He’s joking. Please continue to look around. Excuse me while I handle this matter,” she said.
Noah lifted his glass to the couple. “Nice to meet you. Oh, be sure you get the security on the place changed, as her father enjoys watching.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
Natalie forcefully took hold of Noah’s arm and led him out of the kitchen and the main doors before shutting them closed. She glanced back over her shoulder before unleashing into him. “What the hell are you doing here, and what was all that about?”
“Oh, did I ruin the tour?” he asked. “Tell me, Natalie, when were you going to tell me? Today? Tomorrow? Or were you going to ignore it and hope I’d leave town with my tail between my legs?”
She offered him a puzzled look. “You’ve lost me.”
“Well, maybe this will prick your memory,” he said, taking out a yellow envelope and handing it to her. She glared at him before reaching into it and retrieving photos. She thumbed through them. “What am I looking at here?”
“Really? You going to play the ignorance card?”
She glanced back at him. “Look, is this a prank? Are you drunk?”
“Drunk? I bet you’d like that. You could take more photos. No, ditch that. Let’s go for the video this time. That always goes over well,” he said loudly .
She handed back the photos. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Why did you do it? Huh? Did Daddy put you up to it?”
“You’re making no sense.”
“Was he hoping State would fire me and send me packing? Is this some form of vendetta because I won’t bow down and become a yes-man like my father has?”
Natalie’s expression shifted from confusion to frustration as she listened to Noah’s accusations. She glanced toward the house, her mind racing to comprehend the situation while thinking about how to explain this.
“Noah, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Natalie said. “I didn’t take those photos and I certainly don’t know anything about a vendetta. I told you before, I am not my father.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed as he studied her reaction, searching for any sign of deception. “Then who did?” he demanded. “These were taken on the night I visited you. Same clothes. That’s even your driveway.”
Natalie shook her head, her frustration mounting.
“I don’t know, Noah. I had a lot to drink that night, too.
But I can assure you, it wasn’t me,” she said firmly.
“One of my staff carried you out and placed you in the car while I got my bag inside. I can ask them, but I don’t see why they would have taken your photo.
Now, I’m here to show this property to potential buyers, not to engage in some petty game of espionage.
And quite frankly, I don’t appreciate you showing up like this.
Now I’m going to have to do some serious damage control. ”
Noah chuckled. “Damage control? Natalie, these photos got me removed from the case I’m on. But clearly you don’t care. Oh, no, as long as nothing interferes with making daddy a sale.”
Natalie scoffed, taking a step back and placing a hand on her hip. “Oh, I’m not intelligent enough to run my own company?” She paused. “You assume I’m on his payroll, don’t you?”
“Aren’t you?”
She never answered. “I thought you were better than this.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Natalie squeezed the bridge of her nose.
“Look, I get it, you’re pissed. I would be.
But you have to understand my father doesn’t have time for petty rivalries.
So stop pointing the finger at him! I wish I had answers for you, but I don’t.
So unless you have anything else to say, please leave before I call the cops. ”
He laughed. “Is that meant to be a joke?”
She shook her head, looking disappointed, before heading back inside.
Noah’s waterfront home stood silent against the darkened night’s backdrop.
Inside, the soft glow of lamplight illuminated his face as he dug through the box he’d received earlier.
With the files spread across the floor, he took a swig from a bottle of beer, his eyes scanning through the material.
It was an overwhelming amount of information, enough to keep him occupied for weeks.
Clad in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a grey cardigan, Noah made notes as he delved into the case details.
One name stood out to him: Thomas O’Connell, the investigator assigned to the case.
Curiosity piqued, Noah turned to the internet for more information about O’Connell.
Despite it being before his time, he managed to find a few articles but no photographs.
Determined to learn more, Noah called the department, hoping to obtain any contact details O’Connell might have left before retiring. A colleague assured him they would get back to him, leaving Noah to continue his investigation.
Taking another swig of beer, Noah was interrupted by a knock at the door. He answered it to find McKenzie standing there.
“McKenzie. Things good?” Noah greeted him.
McKenzie exhaled. “Been better, been worse. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” Noah said, stepping aside to let him enter. McKenzie surveyed the papers scattered across the countertops and floor as he entered the living room.
“Some light reading?” McKenzie joked.
“You know I like to unwind with the classics,” Noah shot back, a smile forming before he hurried around, scooping up papers to clear a space for him to sit.
McKenzie settled into a seat amidst the scattered files, and Noah grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to his unexpected visitor .
“So, what brings you by this late?” Noah asked, sitting across from McKenzie, ready to catch up and gain some perspective on the case.
“You caught the news?”
“Nah, I’ve never been one for celebrity gossip.”
McKenzie grinned before it faded. “They got him, Noah. At least Terry Braithwaite thinks so. Joe Mitchell, the high school janitor. We raided his home today after his print was found at the scene of the Banning boy. They ran it through CODIS and got a hit. The guy has a record. On top of that, they were able to triangulate what they believe was Hailey Matthews’ cell phone.
Sure enough, when we arrived, a phone was found at his property, along with over 100 photos and 20 videos of underage girls.
He’d created a fake profile on a social media account to groom girls and get them to send him nudes and their addresses.
A couple he tried to meet in person. Fortunately, those meetups failed. ”
“Catfishing?” Noah asked.
“That’s what they call it. Also, that size 12 print found near Pete Landry matches one of Joe’s work boots.
A hair follicle extracted from the Matthews girl’s clothing appears to be Joe’s too.
On the surface, it makes sense. He saw the teens on a daily basis, and he had access to lockers, the drawer with Landry’s phone, and the swimming pool. ”
Noah nodded, studying him. “Sounds like a slam dunk.”
“Yep,” McKenzie said.
“So why the sour face?”
“Because I don’t think it’s him. ”
A smile tugged at the corner of Noah’s mouth. He was curious to see why. He had his theory, but he wanted to learn McKenzie’s. “How so?”
“Beyond the obvious. Mitchell doesn’t strike me as a smart man. At least not the kind to go to all the trouble of creating those riddles and geocaches.”
“Can’t judge a book by its cover.”