Angel's Rest (7 page)

She narrowed her eyes and said, “Careful, Callahan. I bite.”

He switched on the flashlight and stepped down into the inky blackness. The air smelled musty and smoky. He stood still for a moment as he listened for puppy sounds. Nothing.

“Quiet as a tomb,” he muttered, playing the light across the floor from left to right. He saw burlap bags and wooden shelves, two wooden barrels, and … a caved-in section of a brick wall.

He muttered a curse.

“What is it?” Nic called, descending the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

The beam from Gabe’s flashlight held steady on the skull revealed by the crumbling brick.

Behind him, Nic gasped. “Gabe? Tell me that’s fake. It’s a Halloween prop, isn’t it?”

Nope. Sure wasn’t. “Go back outside, Nicole.”

“It was in the wall? Bricked up?” Instead of exiting the root cellar, Nic Sullivan moved forward. “This is so Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Careful,” Gabe warned as she approached the crumbled wall, pulling a flashlight of her own from her medical bag. She reached out and dragged another row of loose bricks away, then another. Realizing she wasn’t about to quit, Gabe stepped up to help her.

They tore the wall halfway to the floor and stepped back. Nic let out a long, shaky sigh. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, Gabe.”

The skeleton lay stretched out on a wooden table, what appeared to be the tattered remains of a wedding dress draped atop it.

Gabe peered behind the remnants of the wall and added, “Interesting, too. There are stacks of silver bars at her feet.”

The tantalizing aroma of frying bacon coaxed Nic from her dreams. So unusual was the occurrence that she took a moment to solve the puzzle before bothering to open her eyes. Was she dreaming still? Why would … oh. The fire. Celeste. Celeste had come home with her last night. Celeste had cooked her breakfast.

The events of the previous night flooded into her mind. Bob the philandering jerk, dinner with the mystery man of Murphy Mountain, the Cartwright boys’ near miss with disaster. Was there a more foolish human on earth than a teenage boy?

And then the disturbing find in the root cellar: a skeleton in a wedding dress and thirty silver bars. Thirty pieces of silver, Sarah had said. Blood money. Nic shivered at the memory even before she threw off the toasty-warm bedclothes and stepped into the chilly morning air.

While she showered and dressed, Nic took a quick mental inventory of the day ahead of her. Today was Wednesday. She had no overnight patients at the clinic, no boarders. Her first appointment wasn’t until after lunch. She’d been scheduled to go out to the Double R Ranch this morning, but the foreman called yesterday and moved the visit to next week. She served as backup vet for most of the ranches in the area, and that would continue until Dr. Walsh over in Creede retired in two
more years. The Double R was the only ranch around that called her first, but that was because the Double R’s owner, Henry Moreland, had had a falling-out with Dr. Walsh.

She probably should check on Dale Parker. The burn he’d sustained on his forearm needed a doctor’s attention, and even though he’d promised to make the drive into Gunnison today, she didn’t trust him not to weasel out. Other than that, she was free to help Celeste.

Last night Gabe Callahan had quietly relayed news of their root cellar discovery to Sheriff Zach Turner, who had made the decision to wait until daylight to attempt any further investigation. He’d stretched yellow crime-scene tape around the perimeter of the house—cellar included—and used his bullhorn to warn folks to stay away from the damaged building, whose “walls could tumble down at any second.” Then Celeste had appropriated the bullhorn, thanked her fellow citizens for their help, and promised invitations to everyone to the party she would throw once repairs to her home had been completed.

Nic donned jeans and a sweatshirt and made her way to the kitchen to find the dirty dishes from the previous night gone and a breakfast of bacon, pancakes, and juice ready and waiting. “Celeste! You shouldn’t have cleaned up my mess.”

“Why not?” Standing at the stove, Celeste glanced over her shoulder. “You plan to help me with mine, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Excellent. I knew I could count on you. Now, sit down and eat, Nicole, because as soon as we’re finished here, we need to drive up to Eagle’s Way.”

A glass of orange juice halfway to her mouth, Nic froze. “Eagle’s Way? Why?”

“I need to discuss my plans for Cavanaugh House
with Gabe, and you need to take Archibald to him. In all the confusion last night, he forgot his dog.”

His
dog? Nic opened her mouth to protest, but reconsidered and poured syrup onto her pancakes. Celeste had a point. The boxer obviously had chosen Gabe. She’d find it interesting to watch his reaction to the fact. It would tell a lot about the man. “Why would you talk to Gabe Callahan about Cavanaugh House, Celeste?”

“It’s part of my Angel Plan. Dear, have you ever wondered what drew you home in the wake of your divorce?”

She gave it a moment’s thought. “The people. The place. It’s home for me. Eternity Springs … soothes me.”

“Exactly,” Celeste replied with a nod as she filled Nic’s sink with water. “Eternity Springs calls to people in pain.”

Like Gabe Callahan. It made a weird sort of sense, but … “That’s a little woo-woo for me, Celeste.”

“It’s spiritual. You understand. You’re a spiritual woman.”

“I’m not a New Ager. I’m Methodist.”

Squirting green dishwashing soap into the water, the older woman laughed. “Spirituality is part of the fabric of organized religion. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Often it’s simply not as obvious. The healing energy in this valley is significant, although it’s been muted by a sickness of spirit that infected its people long ago. We need to exorcise that sickness and encourage the healing that’s available. All will be stronger because of it.”

“That’s still borderline woo-woo with me,” Nic said. Then she addressed another part of Celeste’s proposal that piqued her curiosity. “So, what, you want to use Gabe as a test case or something?”

“I want to engage Gabe Callahan’s professional services. He is a landscape architect.”

“He is? How do you know?”

“I recognized him. Two years ago his firm designed a play area for a children’s hospital in South Carolina. I was on the board of directors of another hospital, and we researched his firm while considering a similar project. He’s quite well-known in his arena.”

A landscape architect. Interesting. But how did an architect get a warrior’s scars? “So what do you want him to do at Cavanaugh House?” Then, before Celeste could respond, Nic understood. She’d said healing energy. “The hot springs? You’re gonna ask him to design something around the hot springs, aren’t you? A resort like they have over in Pagosa Springs?”

“Not exactly. My idea is bigger than that. This won’t be a tourist facility for skiers with sore muscles. Cavanaugh House will be the centerpiece of a healing center, Nicole, and I want Gabe Callahan to design the master plan. Yes, I want a spa facility and pools for the hot springs, but I also want a healing garden and hiking trails and terraces of prayer. My vision is to make Eternity Springs the Sedona of Colorado.”

Nic set down her fork and sat back in her chair, considering the idea. “The Sedona of Colorado,” she mused. She’d visited Sedona, Arizona, one time. It was a lovely place. Not as lovely as Eternity Springs, but then she was prejudiced. The people of Sedona had been friendly. Different, but friendly. Of course, Eternity Springs folks were different, too. Mountain people usually were.

Winter mountain people, especially.

She couldn’t be certain that Eternity would be as welcoming to outsiders as Sedona, but a steady supply of tourist dollars would surely smooth the way for that. Celeste’s plan would change their town, but after plans
A, B, C, and D most everyone understood that change of some sort was necessary for survival.

A healing center and spa. “It fits with our history. When this area was being settled, people moved to Colorado because of perceived health benefits. The air here was considered good for those with consumption. Even Doc Holliday came here to heal. And of course, the Ute visited our hot springs for a long time before settlers arrived.” Her mouth stretched in a smile. “Celeste, I think your idea is inspired.”

“I know, dear. Now, finish your breakfast so you can dry these pans I’m about to wash. Then we can share our good news with poor Gabe.”

“Poor Gabe?”

“Not literally, of course. The man is quite comfortable financially. I mean poor in spirit. Gabe is a perfect example of someone who needs what Eternity Springs has to offer. Unfortunately, he’s too isolated up there, too alone on the mountain. He needs to come to town to work on the project. He needs to be here in Eternity Springs around the people …” She paused as Nic rose to let in the boxer, who stood scratching at her kitchen door. “And the pets who will help heal his wounded heart.”

She sees his damaged heart, too
. Nic slipped Tiger a half slice of bacon. “What do you know about him, Celeste?”

“I know what I see when I look into his eyes. He’s haunted, Nicole. You’ve seen it, too, haven’t you?”

She recalled the horrible scars on his back and chest and spoke quietly. “Yes.”

“Gabe Callahan’s pain makes him uniquely suited for this project. I believe he’ll tap into the energy of Eternity Springs and produce a transcendent design. He’ll not only change our world, he will change his own.”

Hope lifted Nic’s heart, but caution kept her grounded. “If you can convince him to give us a chance.
I had to twist his arm to get him to stay for dinner last night.”

“Yes, but he did stay, did he not?”

Yes, he had stayed, and she’d enjoyed his company tremendously. Gabe was witty and intelligent and interesting. Heaven knows the man was delicious to look at. He was the first man since her divorce who truly interested her, but Gabe Callahan had issues. That was as clear as the scars on his chest. To consider him a romantic prospect wasn’t realistic.

That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t offer him friendship. She suspected that the man seriously needed a friend.

“Your success at arm twisting is why I want you to come with me this morning. I want you to take the lead in this conversation. He said yes to you last night.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll say yes this time. He’s not very approachable, Celeste. His defenses are as high as Murphy Mountain.”

“Then you’ll have to come up with a way to scale the heights, won’t you?”

Before Nic could ask just how she was supposed to manage that particular feat, her front doorbell rang. Celeste said, “You must have an early customer at the clinic.”

“No, the clinic bell is a buzzer that sounds in my kitchen. That’s the doorbell.” Nic walked to the front of the house and identified the figure standing on her front porch: Zach Turner. Opening the door, she said, “Good morning, Zach. Come on in.”

“Morning, Nic. Thanks.” In her entry hall, he removed his gray felt hat and said, “I need to speak with Celeste.”

“She’s in the kitchen. Come on back. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

Celeste offered a sheepish smile to the sheriff as he entered the kitchen. “Oh, dear. Am I in trouble?”

“You gotta be careful with candles, Celeste, but I’ll save the lecture for another time. The county coroner is on his way to Eternity to remove the remains, and I have a few questions to clear up before he gets here.”

“I’m happy to help any way I can.”

Celeste wiped her wet hands on a dish towel and sat at Nic’s table. Zach sat across from her and accepted a mug of coffee from Nic with thanks. He removed a small notebook and a pen from his pocket and made notes as he asked her a few general questions about Cavanaugh House and her use of the root cellar. After pausing to sip his coffee, he said, “It’s clear that the remains have been entombed in the cellar for a long time, so we’re not dealing with a recent crime. The dress is Victorian, complete with a bustle. Also, we found this.”

He held up a plastic bag. Inside it lay a silver locket attached to a silver chain. “Look at the engraving,” Celeste said. “It reminds me of an angel’s wings.”

“You’re right,” Nic said. Then she asked Zach, “Can you tell how she died?”

Zach nodded. “Probably. There appear to be two bullets. What we didn’t find was a clue to her identity. I’ll probably have better luck speaking to members of the historical society, but I wanted to ask you, Celeste, if you’ve found anything in the contents of Cavanaugh House that might be of help.”

Celeste shook her head. “No, but I haven’t begun to go through the contents of the attic or basement. That’s a job I intended to tackle over the winter. The place is packed full of interesting boxes and crates, and luckily, the fire didn’t reach that part of Cavanaugh House.”

“There’s certainly no rush. The state lab will work up a forensic report for us, but due to the circumstances, it’s certain to be a low priority. I suspect the only way we’ll
ever be able to put a name to her is to find something in old records.”