Broken Trust (14 page)

eighteen

The old farmhouse creaked
every few minutes. Nora thought ghosts probably wandered the dark hallways and empty offices. If they didn’t, they should. This building seemed strange enough in the daytime but at night, when she was the only one here, it felt like the House of Dracula.

Darkness filled her window, casting a reflection on her office and the light she’d turned on to dispel the creeps.
Thank dog no wind
is coming
down Boulder Canyon to rattle
the
window and shriek against the siding or
I
wouldn’t have been able to stay here this long.

After her escape from Pearl Street and Abigail’s dreams of a corporate career, Nora had hurried home to change into jeans and get Abbey. Then she met Daniel at the Trust. They’d tried to sift through the various activities and funds, bank statements and grants. Daniel said he had something to do and left for about an hour, then came back and insisted he take her to dinner.

They’d eaten at a Mediterranean place downtown. He was as charming as he was handsome
,
and the food was delicious. They’d chatted about childhood and exchanged details of colleges and highlights of their lives. Nora
glossed
over her marriage, the snow
-
making scheme in Flagstaff
,
and the drama associated with it.

She’d been fascinated by Daniel’s self-deprecating humor as he told of growing up in excess. He’d spent his youth chasing excitement from skiing in the Alps to scuba diving on the Barrier Reef to misadventures in Europe and the Middle East. Nora was sure he had enough stories to keep talking for months. But after all that running around, he said he finally understood his wealth could be used for something besides his own pleasure and he planned to spend it protecting the Ecuadoran rainforest.

Nora felt an urge to get back to the office and he’d obliged. He tried to talk her into going home but she wanted to get a few things organized before she called it quits for the night.

She
was
building the mother of all spreadsheets. Tomorrow she’d populate the columns and rows with the data from bank statements and financial statements and then she’d be able to analyze where the money came from and where it went.

Her eyes burned and she leaned back for a break. “That’s enough for tonight,” she said to Abbey.

He opened his eyes and thumped his tail.

Nora’s eye caught the empty box she’d used to bring some of her personal things to the Trust. “She’s not coming back.” This time Abbey didn’t bother to open his eyes. Nora
stood and
stacked the self-help books into the box
. Then she
placed the porcelain animals on top. She added the stack of Darla’s affirmations she’d collected to the box. Finally, she picked up Darla’s picture.

A heavy blanket of sadness fell on Nora. She couldn’t imagine someone so overlooked in life would be remembered long after death. It seemed a terrible waste.

She placed the picture in the box and contemplated the top yellow sheet. “I will confront Sylvia.” It was copied the length of the page. Nora picked up the stack of sheets and paged through until she found what she searched for. “I am strong enough to stand up to her.” Nora assumed the
her
was Sylvia.

“What do you suppose she wanted to confront her about?” Abbey lifted his head and yawned. The other staffers and now the police suspected Sylvia of killing Darla.
Maybe Sylvia had something to do with whatever it was Darla supposedly found in the books.

And maybe the moon is made of green cheese, as Abigail used to say whenever Nora’s imagination got the best of her—which happened often.

Nora winked at Abbey. “I agree. Time to call it a night.” She donned her coat and picked up her bag. Abbey followed her as they descended the narrow stairs to the kitchen. They turned toward the lobby and Nora stopped.

She hesitated. “It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

Abbey didn’t protest as Nora tiptoed through the kitchen to Sylvia’s office. The kitchen floor creaked and Abbey’s claws clicked on the linoleum. Nora slowed as she approached Sylvia’s office door. She shouldn’t snoop.

She whispered to Abbey. “I won’t touch anything. Just look around a little. No going through drawers or anything like that.” She pushed open the door, the sound like thunder in the quiet house. Nora stepped into the room and felt for the light. She flicked it on.

Someone screamed.

Nora screamed.

Abbey barked.

Nora jumped back, ready to retreat.

Her eyes finally focused. She clamped a hand to her chest and sucked in air. “Petal! What are you doing here?”

Petal sat in a nest of her own clothes close to her desk. The pink glow of her scarf-draped lamp faded in the overhead light. She blinked in the sudden brightness. “I’m
—u
h
—
I’m
—s
ometimes Sylvia can’t sleep and works at night. I thought maybe she’d be up tonight because of the, uh, the
—b
ecause of the trouble.”

“This is crazy,” Nora said. Abbey sat in the doorway.

Petal rose and pulled out her desk chair. She huddled into it. “She doesn’t ask me to do it. It’s okay.”

With Darla gone Petal had no one to go home to, no one to keep tabs on her.

Even if
Abigail was furious
about Nora’s no-show earlier, at least she knew her mother loved her and would care if she never came home. “I think I saw some hot chocolate mix in the kitchen cupboard. Why don’t I make us some?”

Petal jumped up with a grin on her face. “I can do it.” She scurried from the office and Nora heard banging in the kitchen.

She tilted her head at Abbey. “As long as we’re here
…
” She wandered casually to Sylvia’s desk. A 24
-
inch monitor dominated the desk and a laptop sat on the edge. The wood gleamed with only one lone sheet of notebook paper shoved half under the laptop.

The microwave hummed in the kitchen. Nora gingerly slid the sheet of paper from under the laptop. A tree graph with several circles showed a confusing jumble. It looked like Darla’s idea of fund accounting. In other words, chaos. Nora bent closer. Credit card
and bank names labeled the circles along with various names of peo
ple. Dollar amounts in the thousands were inked on arrows going from circle to circle.

What a financial juggling act. Sylvia was either a genius or heading for a big crash.

The ding of the microwave warned of Petal’s return. Nora shoved the paper back and headed for the kitchen.

“That smells good,” Nora said when Petal handed her a chipped mug of hot chocolate. Actually, it smelled sickening
ly
sweet. “Let’s sit at the booth.”

Petal acted surprised. “Okay. I don’t think I’ve ever sat there be
fore.”

They settled themselves in the booth with the glow of an overhead light casting their reflection in the darkened window.

“Can I ask you something?” Petal said. “What is your mother’s story?”

“Her story?” Nora thought a moment. “Well, she grew up in Nebraska and went to school here in Boulder at CU. I guess she met my father there
,
but he apparently left us when I was a baby.”

“Where does he live?” Petal asked.

Nora shrugged. “I don’t know and don’t care. He didn’t want us
,
so why should I want him?”

Petal frowned and sipped her hot chocolate. “What happened to your mother after he left?”

Nora held her palm over the steaming cup. “She married
Berle
when I was about five. He had a lot of money and that suited her.”

Petal sipped and set her mug down. “I thought so.”

“What do you mean?” The hot chocolate
did indeed
taste too sweet for Nora.

“Well, she’s got all this high
-
society class and taste and stuff, but she’s too nice to have been raised with money.”

Nora wrapped her hands around her warm mug. “I hadn’t thought about it but maybe Abigail’s coming full circle. She started out humble, lived large for a while
,
and now she’s back to humble.”

“With Charlie?” The pinks and oranges of Petal’s layers became flowers in the window’s reflection.

“Well, there was another husband between Berl
e
and Charlie
,
but he died of a heart attack when they’d only been married a couple of years.”

Petal finished her hot chocolate and curled her feet under her. “Do you like Charlie?”

The house had been growing steadily colder since the heater’s timer set it on nighttime temperature.

Nora couldn’t stop her grin. “Charlie’s my best friend. Or he was when I lived in Flagstaff. He’s a real character. Vietnam vet, true environmentalist. Loyal and completely devoted to Abigail.” No matter what she said about an alleged affair.

Petal sighed.

“What about you? Where is your mother?” Nora asked.

Petal swirled her cup. “Oh. My mother lives in New Orleans. She’s got some medical problems. That’s why I need this job. I help her out.”

A boom sounded from the front door. Nora and Petal both jumped and Petal let out a squeak of alarm. Abbey lifted his head and woofed.

The building sighed as the front door opened.

Nora’s heart nearly burst. Petal flew out of the booth and raced toward Sylvia’s office.

“Boulder County Police,” a low-pitched woman’s voice called.

Nora rose on shaky legs and stepped around the kitchen wall into the lobby. Abbey followed her.

A uniformed police officer stood by the door, her belt weighing her down with all manner of tools or weapons. She held a flashlight but hadn’t turned it on.

Nora hurried to her. “I’m Nora Abbott. Can I help you?”

The officer studied her. “Officer Garcia.” She introduced herself. “Do you work here?”

“I just started yesterday.” Nora’s heart still thudded.

Officer Garcia surveyed the room and let her gaze travel up the stairs. “Are you here alone?”

Nora pointed toward the kitchen. “My colleague is here.”

Garcia nodded. “Working late?”

“Yes. Trying to catch up.” Nora felt as though she ought to adopt the spare speaking style of the officer.

Garcia’s voice bordered on masculine and she sounded almost angry. “You know a woman was murdered out here a few days ago.”

Fear spiked Nora’s flesh. If Garcia were here to reassure Nora, she failed.

“I’d suggest you wrap up your work for tonight and head home.”

“I was just leaving.”

“Good. I’ll wait in the parking lot and follow you out.” Garcia swept her gaze over the lobby and she walked out the door.

Petal crept around the corner. “Is she gone?”

Nora watched Garcia out the front window. “Guess she’s checking up on us. Probably a good thing.”

Petal hung her head and retreated to the kitchen.

Nora followed
,
suddenly
feeling
exhausted
. “Can I give you a ride?”

Petal shook her head. “No. I’ve got my bike.”

Nora carried their cups to the sink. Petal scuttled to Sylvia’s office.

Nora shrugged into her coat. She hollered to Petal. “I’ll wait for you and lock up.”

Petal stuck her head out of the office. “Go ahead. I’m just going to leave Sylvia a note in case she comes in.”

Nora held the door open for Abbey and closed it after he stepped out on the porch. Cold mountain air chilled Nora’s fingers and nose. The deep silence closed around her.

Darla died on a night like this. Not
a hundred
yards from where Nora stood.

Someone killed her.

On a night like this.

nineteen

The furnace rumbled to
life in the drafty farmhouse. Nora reached under her desk and turned off the ceramic heater that had made her office tolerable for the past two hours. She scoped out the clock on her computer. Seven o’clock. Weak light sneaked from her western-facing window announcing another day.

She’d been here late last night with Petal
;
late enough that Abigail had given up waiting for her and gone to bed. Nora returned hours before dawn, cutting her night short. Whenever something creaked or bumped
—
which happened often in the rambling old building
—
Nora had to talk herself into staying calm and ignoring her urge to leave.

As creepy as the Trust was, it seemed a good alternative to facing Abigail’s wrath. She’d endured one raging phone call about missing the interview yesterday and would probably be in for a few more. But if she could delay it, Abigail might lose steam. She could hope, anyway.

She scratched Abbey behind his ears and he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Another hour before anyone comes to work.” At least, Mark said they were supposed to show up at eight.

Her green banker’s lamp illuminated the work space around her computer and she hadn’t bothered turning on any other lights. She’d focused
on
organizing and familiarizing herself with the inner workings of the Trust. The $4
million budget
was
divided into eight distinct projects with their own budgets, each funded with grants and donations, some shared, some specific with restricted and unrestricted funds coming in and going out of five different bank accounts and tied to several investment accounts. She’d need to simplify the system. No one could keep track of this financial maze. Tracking the grants alone might be a full
-
time job.

Nora could usually drill into a problem and block out any distractions. It’s how she’d been so successful in school and
able to run
a ski resort
by herself
. But this morning, her brain was like a
kindergartner
with ADHD.

One moment she thought about Cole standing amid the colorful fall leaves on the mall yesterday. The Cole slideshow flipped to him on her ski mountain in Flagstaff, defending her at Scott’s funeral. Next slide: Cole fighting off an attacker who tried to strangle Nora to keep her from making snow on the sacred peaks. Flip: Cole grinning and catching her in his arms when she’d discovered he hadn’t been killed. He’d risked his life to save hers.

Stop this!

As soon as she forced her mind from Cole, it bounced back to Benny and worse still, Nakwaiyamtewa. She was never sure if he and the kachina were one and the same. The kachina wore colorful clothes and feathers, his mask fierce and frightening.

Nakwaiyamtewa stood no taller than five feet and appeared and disappeared like Whac-
A
-Mole. Nora had only seen him a few times in quiet moments. He was a man of few words and those were usually some kind of annoying riddle.

Turns out, Nakwaiyamtewa died in the 1880s. His descendent, Benny, carried on the Hopi traditions. No doubt they had coffee together every morning and discussed the local corn harvest and state of the world they claimed responsibility for.

Another reason Nora had climbed from her bed so early was the dreaming. The kachina had crashed through the forest every time she drifted off last night. He chased someone, maybe her, she couldn’t tell in the dream. The fear bursting through her sleep into her bedroom left her panting and unwilling to go back to sleep. Now a low
-
grade headache banged behind her eyes.

Focus!

The Trust staffers should be showing up soon. Would they find out she’d spilled her guts to the board and revealed whose work was in the red or black? If so, they might treat her like a squealer. Goodbye to the notion of friends.

Mark must hate her. Thinking about him gave her the creeps.

Footsteps on the stairs made Nora stiffen. She couldn’t hear the front door from here and someone was already on their way up.

“Don’t think you can avoid me forever.” It wasn’t what she expected.

“Good morning, Abigail.”

Anger wafted from Abigail in waves but it didn’t affect her appearance. She wore wool slacks,
a
turtleneck
,
and boots, all coordinated with a car coat that carried the chilly fall morning into Nora’s office. “Don’t
‘
good morning
’
me. I set up an appointment with a very busy man on your behalf and you embarrassed me in front of him. I can’t imagine what he’ll tell his mother.”

“I said I was sorry.” It would do no good to shut Abigail down. Might as well let her spew.

With the Abigail white noise, Nora was finally able to concentrate. She stared at the screen. What was this? Wasn’t the balance of Sylvia’s restricted account much higher in August than the balance the computer showed for September?

Abigail slapped the desktop. “Are you listening to me?”

Nora pulled her gaze from the screen. Ignoring Abigail wouldn’t work. She noted the time and gave Abigail ten minutes to rant. The headache gained momentum.

“ ‘Casting away radiance in pursuit of mediocrity in a flight of fear.’ ” Abigail reached into her slender leather handbag and pulled out another tiny notepad. This one
sparkled with gold glitter adorning Michelangelo’s cherubs and had a matching miniature pen. She paused and slid the pad back into the bag. “Something not right about that. I’ll work on it.”

The morning lightened enough
and
Nora snapped off her desk lamp. “Poetry aside, Abigail, I’m trying to work. Can we talk at home?”

Undaunted, Abigail continued. “You’re making a big mistake. Even Cole agrees with me on that.”

Nora sat back in her chair with a creak of springs. “You discussed me with Cole?”

Abigail’s tone softened, as it always did when she talked about Cole. “He’s concerned about you working at the Trust and frankly, after hearing what he had to say, so am I.”

“What, do you have him on speed dial?” She rubbed at a knot on her neck, hoping to ease the knocking in her brain. Maybe she needed coffee.

And here it came again. The speech Abigail worked herself into every time Cole’s name came up. “Why do you have such a problem with that man? He’s strong and capable, certainly not hard on the eyes. And he cares about you.”

Easy lob to Nora’s court. “Let’s talk about you and Charlie.”

Abigail stiffened. “Nothing to talk about.”

“You don’t really think he’s having an affair?”

Abigail clamped her lips and spun toward the door.

Victory! Sometime soon she’d have to dig into the details of the Charlie mess, but not now.

Abigail walked back in. Drat. She’d called the match too soon. “I saw it with my own two eyes. Some woman your age.”

Nora’s eyes wandered to the screen but she swiveled her chair to give Abigail her full attention. “Did you ask Charlie about it?”

Abigail set her bag on the desk and slipped out of her coat, dashing Nora’s hopes for her hasty departure. “Why would I give him the opportunity to make up a lie? I won’t allow myself to be mocked and humiliated.”

Nora wanted to rush Abigail to the finish line. She definitely needed caffeine to battle the headache. “Charlie’s a good man. There’s probably an explanation.”

Abigail perched on the edge of the wicker chair. The burnt orange and browns of her fall ensemble clashed with the lavender and mint motif. “I wasn’t surprised when I caught him. All the signs were there.”

“What kind of signs?”

Abigail straightened her shoulders in sturdy dignity. “He started cleaning up and wearing nice clothes every day. Or rather, what he consider
s
nice clothes. He refused to wear the chinos and golf shirts I bought him. I know they’d be more comfortable than his old button-down flannel shirts and Nora, his jeans were a nightmare of faded and frayed.”

Coffee might save Nora’s life. The rickety heater chugged warm air through the floor vents pushing aside the abandon
ed
feel of the night.

“He left the house every day, as usual, but he wasn’t going into the woods.”

“How do you know?”

Abigail’s despairing expression stabbed at Nora. “I can’t believe I sank so low. I actually sniffed his clothes. They didn’t smell the same as when he wandered the trails with the fresh air and pines.”

Nora stood and stretched. “Why didn’t you talk to him instead of building resentment?”

“That’s the most telling part. His personality changed. With me, anyway.” Abigail’s gaze traveled toward the window. “You know how charming and solicitous he usually is with me.”

Abigail always appreciated goddess worship.

“He became moody. Sometimes he ignored me. And once, he even snapped at me.”

Abigail made Nora want to snap like a feral Chihuahua
,
but Charlie had endless patience.

“The real clue though, is that he wasn’t interested in,” she lowered her voice, “the bedroom.”

“Yow! Mother!” Nora wanted to wash her ears with alcohol, maybe her brain
too.

“It’s natural. Do you think your desire goes away when you hit forty?”

“I don’t want to think about it.” Nora paced to the door and scanned the hallway to make sure no one heard.

“Well, it doesn’t. I’m a healthy woman with healthy needs like any other woman. I notice when my lover loses interest.”

Oh, no. She could not hear this. “Stop talking now.”

Abigail sat back. “You can’t hide from the realities of life, dear.”

Nora wandered back to her desk and propped against the work surface. “We’re going to have to talk about this later. I’ve got a raging headache. Probably because I haven’t been sleeping.”

Abigail hurried over to Nora and placed a cold hand on Nora’s forehead. “Are you sick? Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

Nora brushed Abigail’s hand away. “I’m fine. Just having dreams.”

“Nightmares?”

Maybe it would help exorcise them if Nora talked about it. “Kachina dreams. It’s probably new job stress.”

Abigail acted overly concerned about Nora’s lack of sleep.

Nora rubbed her forehead. “From what I know, kachinas are supposed to stay on the sacred mountain in Flagstaff or on the mesas in Hopiland. They don’t travel all over the place like goblins with frequent flyer miles.”

Abigail frowned and stared out the window.

“I know that November starts a new season for the kachinas. So they leave the mesa where they’ve spent the summer and go back to the mountain for the winter. Maybe Nakwaiyamtewa thinks a visit to Colorado would be nice before he goes home.”

Abigail put on her coat. “You’re overthinking things. It’s just a dream.”

“Maybe it is just a dream about Hopis. But I saw the kachina on M
ount
Evans and then Benny showed up here. Why?” Nora waited for her mother’s dismissal of kachina sightings as signs of Nora’s overactive imagination.

Abigail seemed distracted and in a hurry to leave. “Why wouldn’t Benny visit? He likes you.”

Nora shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. He hates leaving the mesa for anything.” Nora leaned back and mused. “What is my connection to Hopi?”

Abigail grabbed her bag and scurried to the door.

This didn’t seem right. “Mother?”

“I’ve got to go, dear. Talk to you later.”

Nora’s radar kicked in. “Hang on, Abigail. What are you hiding. You’ve got that secretive look on your face.”

Abigail’s smiled looked strained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The hairs on Nora’s neck jumped to attention. “What?”

“I try to live in the present. I don’t like to dwell on unpleasant things in the past,” Abigail stammered.

As much as it sounded like more of Abigail’s
awful
poetry, Nora thought she might be serious. This
wouldn’t be good
. “You’re going to tell me something you should have told me a long time ago, aren’t you?”

Abigail huffed. “You don’t need to know everything about me. I’m entitled to a few secrets.”

It only got worse. “But this secret involves me, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Abigail’s eyes traveled from the coat closet up to the ceiling, over to the shelves and to the window. Then she focused on Nora’s light-weight hiking boots.

“Spill it, Mother.”

Abigail glanced down the empty hall and stepped back into the office. “Did you ever wonder how I met Berle?”

Berle was Abigail’s second husband. The man who raised Nora.

Okay, w
e’re going to take the long way
. “This train has a caboose, right? And when we get there it’s going to tell me something I need to know, right?”

Abigail sat in the wicker chair. “I met Berle in Flagstaff. He was there on business with Kachina Ski.”

Nora’s stepfather had given her the ski resort in Flagstaff as insurance for Abigail. He was afraid if he died before Abigail, she’d run through his money. Which is what happened. Nora promised him she’d take care of Abigail. Which she did.

Nora would die of old age or frustration before Abigail made her point.

“I never told you the reason I was in Flagstaff. It had to do with your father.”

“My biological father?” Nora didn’t remember Abigail ever voluntarily mentioning him.

“Yes.”

Nora plopped into her chair.

“Your father was from the Flagstaff area. He grew up there. Had a bunch of family.”

Abigail paused. Nora wanted to scream at her
:
M
ore
.
More
!