Colleen Coble (33 page)

They got out and went to sit on a bench at the bow of the boat. Seagulls squawked and swooped overhead, and waves lapped against the ferry as it headed to Hatteras Island. The sea breeze blew strongly here.

She brushed her blowing hair from her eyes. “Preston’s rally in Kill Devil is at six. He’s probably there now. Would there be time to talk to him on the way to Richmond?”

“The shop closes at nine so we should be fine. Where can we find him?”

“He has a house on the water in Kill Devil. I have the address.” She pulled out her phone. “He threw a party for Ben’s birthday one year. Here it is, on Virginia Dare Trail.” She read him the address.

“We’ll be going right through there anyway.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s two. We should be there by three. Shouldn’t take longer than half an hour unless he has something really stupendous to tell us that derails our stop at the bridal shop. It’s less than two hours to Virginia Beach. We should be there by six. We can talk to the owners at the shop, then get dinner. Sound okay?”

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “I want to apologize for how I acted this morning. I was out of line.”

Yes, you were
. He bit back the words. “But you haven’t changed your mind, I bet.”

“I don’t know what to think right now. That money in Ben’s account too . . .” She shook her head. “And it’s in a Swiss account. It felt secretive. So nothing makes sense to me.”

He didn’t much like what he was learning about his sister either. “Let’s try to put aside our reservations about both of them. The most important thing right now is to find Raine. We’re only following the trail of the money in hopes it will lead us to her. She’s all either of us cares about.”

“Right,” she said.

“Oh, and I deciphered that book of Ben’s. I’m not sure why he had it hidden. Not much in it.” He told her about the addresses he’d found. Hatteras Landing with its docks and building was just ahead. “We’d better get back to our vehicle.”

Curtis rolled his window down and let the sea breeze blow through the Jeep. For a moment he let himself dream that his phone would ring with the good news that Raine had been found. Where was she? The thought that she might not still be alive squeezed his heart.

The businesses of Kill Devil Hills sprinkled both sides of the Croatan Highway. Amy stared at the GPS app on her phone. “I think we turn on E. Wright Avenue.”

Curtis braked. “Right here.”

He steered the car toward the Atlantic and turned onto Virginia Dare Trail. The houses were typical beach houses on stilts, two stories high, in bright colors with decks and beach
furniture. Several people carried blankets and chairs toward the access path to the water. The sound of the waves carried through his open window, and the smell of the sea was strong. Banks of sand dunes blocked the view of the sea in most places. Reading the numbers on the houses, he looked for the address they sought.

Amy pointed to a blue house with wraparound decks. “There it is. I recognize it from here.”

The place had four cars parked around it. “Looks like he has company. I’ll have to park down the road.”

Though the Croatan was called a highway, it was more a wide country road with sand blowing across it. He found a place to pull off and got out. “You think he’ll talk to us?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s a family friend.”

“Who is afraid of getting pulled into a murder investigation. His finance manager is dead. This could derail his campaign.”

“I’m sure he wants to get to the bottom of it too.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted into the sun. “I think that’s him on the deck. Looks like his wife is with him. And his girls.” She smiled. “I haven’t seen the girls in ages.” Her stride quickened.

Blowing sand bit into his skin, bare below his shorts. When they reached the driveway, two suited men stepped between them and the steps to the deck. They looked grave and imposing. “This is private property,” the older one with glasses said, blocking them. “You’re trespassing.”

Amy tipped her chin up in a friendly smile. “I’m Amy Lang, a friend of the Kendricks. If you’ll let Preston and Zoe know we’re here, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see us.”

“Wait here.” He left them and stepped into the yard with his phone to his ear. Moments later he motioned to them. “You can go up.”

Sandbags were stacked under the deck to help with beach erosion, and wooden picket fences marched as far as he could see
to help prevent sand drifting. The dunes were huge here, but he caught a glimpse of blue water as they approached the stairs.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, an attractive brunette dressed in shorts ran down the stairs toward them. “Amy, I can’t believe it! I was just telling Preston that I should call you and see if you had time to meet.” She and Amy hugged, and she glanced at Curtis. “Who’s your handsome escort?”

“This is Curtis Ireland. His niece is the little girl who was kidnapped. Curtis, this is Zoe Kendrick.”

Zoe’s pert smile vanished as she took his hand. “I was appalled to hear about this, Mr. Ireland. I’d hoped once the FBI talked to Grant, it would all be cleared up. His death was a blow both to us on the campaign trail and to you who needed to discover what he’d done with Raine. I assume the FBI is looking for his bodyguard?”

He returned the pressure of her fingers. “Call me Curtis. And yes, they’re looking, but so far they haven’t been able to locate him. We’re praying the FBI can find her quickly.”

“Of course.” She turned and gestured to the deck. “Come on up. Preston is excited you’ve stopped by too. And the girls, of course. You’re one of their favorite people, Amy.”

When they stepped onto the deck, two little girls of about seven and nine rushed to Amy. Curtis watched with his heart thumping in his chest. Would his Raine ever have a gap-toothed smile like the youngest? Would she ever get a chance to wear those cute pink shoes with sparkles? It was all he could do to smile and shake Preston’s hand.

Zoe put her hand on her oldest’s head. “Girls, would you help me with some snacks?” The girls grumbled but followed her through the back door.

Preston motioned to the chairs, expensive blue-and-white-striped ones that wouldn’t bring shame to a Sandals resort. “This is a surprise. Did you try to call?” The rebuke was subtle but present.

Amy shook her head. “We were heading to Richmond when I remembered your rally tonight. I took a chance you might be here. I hope you don’t mind.”

Preston studied Curtis’s face. “Not at all. I’m cooperating fully. I’d be glad if anything I knew helped you locate your little girl. I imagine you’re here to see if there’s anything else I might remember about Grant.”

“Anything might be helpful. I’m desperate to find Raine.” His voice broke and Curtis cleared his throat. “Did Grant have any vacation homes or places he liked to go where his bodyguard might head?”

“As I told the FBI, I didn’t know him all that well. But my campaign manager is here. I’ll let you talk to him.” He pulled out his phone and placed a call.

A few minutes later a man of about forty with wings of gray at the temples came up the steps. Dressed in an impeccable navy suit, he looked wary as he approached. “Something wrong?”

“They’d like to ask you some questions about Grant.”

“I already talked to the FBI.” He looked puzzled but not impatient.

Preston waved his hand at Curtis and Amy. “This is Curtis Ireland, Raine’s uncle. Curtis, Amy, this is my campaign manager, Andrew Morgan.”

Curtis shook his hand, and the man returned the pressure. He didn’t seem ill at ease when he heard who they were and what they wanted. “Thanks for any help you can give me. We’re trying to figure out where Grant’s bodyguard might have taken Raine. Do you know of any vacation spots Grant liked? Or maybe a family member who would be close enough to shelter him?”

The concern in Andrew’s eyes seemed genuine. “I told the FBI that he had a house in Maine. In Kennebunkport. And his sister lives in Myrtle Beach. I gave them the names and addresses
I know. Well, the sister’s name. And I had the address in Maine because he let me use it for a long weekend.”

“I’ll follow up with the FBI,” Curtis said.

Amy leaned forward in her chair with her hands clasped in her lap. “There has to be
something
you’re forgetting, something that seems inconsequential. Did he have any plans in the few days leading up to his death? Did you see him talking with anyone who struck you as unusual? Any phone calls that seemed odd?”

Andrew started to shake his head, then he paused and frowned. “I just thought of something. His voice mail was acting up, and the old account wasn’t working. Our IT department set him up with a new one temporarily. I wonder if they ever got that main one up and going.” He pulled out his cell phone and placed a call.

“Anything?” Amy asked when he hung up.

“They have it going, but there weren’t any messages on it.” He looked disappointed. “I’d hoped we might have something. I really want to help find that little girl.”

Curtis heard the ring of sincerity in his voice. “Thanks. Was Grant married?”

“Yeah.” Andrew paused. “And he had a teenage girlfriend on the side. I met her once. She’s the one who got pulled into this whole mess, poor kid.”

Amy leaned forward. “You met Heather? Where was this? And when?”

“About a month ago. We had just finished up a campaign meeting, and she showed up at the apartment he rented in DC. His wife and family have a house in the burbs, and it’s convenient to have something closer for business. He was livid. Yelled at her and she cried. I felt sorry for her. I told him it wasn’t cool, but he told me to mind my own business.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Heather was in DC? Do you know where she lived? And did she ever have any contact with his bodyguard?”

Curtis eyed her. Excitement was coming off her in palpable waves. Where was she headed with this line of questions?

“Yeah, she had a house that he rented for her in Virginia Beach. It was in Preston’s name, but Grant paid for it.”

Preston grunted. “That’s not okay, Andrew. Why am I just hearing about it?”

“I took care of it when I heard about it. He said he’d change the name on the lease, so I thought that was the end of the story.”

“Did he?” Preston growled.

Andrew didn’t cower before Preston. “I don’t know. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t follow up once your campaign got into full swing.”

Curtis rose. “You think Bossman might have taken Raine there?”

Amy’s cheeks were pink. “I don’t know, but it’s worth checking. Did you tell the FBI about this?”

Andrew shook his head. “I didn’t think about it until now.”

Curtis whipped out his phone. “I’ll have the FBI check it out.”

T
HIRTY
-S
IX

T
he brick building housing the bridal shop sat on a corner facing a row of high-end shops. Dresses dripping with sequins and glitter hung on mannequins in the window. Just looking at them made Amy feel a little sick, but she squared her shoulders and followed Curtis. The smell of new clothes hit her when she stepped inside. She well remembered the day she’d picked out her wedding dress. Full of anticipation, she wandered the aisles of dazzling dresses until she found the perfect one. She had no idea that a few months later her lovely wedding would be canceled.

A young woman in a tailored garnet suit stepped forward. “May I help you?” She appeared to be around forty and wore her dark hair in a French knot in a Katharine Hepburnish look.

Curtis nodded. “We’d like to see the manager.”

The woman’s smile widened as if smiling could ward off whatever problem was about to descend on her head. “That would be me. How can I help you?”

“I need some information about a gown my sister purchased.” Curtis dug a paper out of his pocket. “She bought it a year ago.”

Amy glanced around as he rattled off the details of the gown and the date it was purchased. What was Ian doing now? Had he
found another woman, a whole one who could bear the large family he wanted? She didn’t doubt he had. Women flocked to him like egrets to newly mown grass.

She tore her gaze away from the rows and rows of wedding dresses and bridesmaid gowns.

“I remember your sister,” the manager said. “And the dress, of course. We don’t sell one of those every day. I’m sorry for your loss. She was a sweet young woman.”

“Thank you. So the gown was unusual?”

The woman nodded. “Her fiancé had ordered it, and she came in to see it and try it on. We don’t typically stock something that expensive.”

“Who came with her?”

Curiosity flashed through the woman’s eyes, but it was quickly masked. “I have a card on her wedding. Just a moment.” She stepped to the computer at the counter and called up a program. “She was engaged to a Preston Smith, but the best man, Ben Lang, helped her pick up the dress. There were several possible bridesmaid dresses chosen as well, but there’s no mention of names or sizes for those.”

Amy barely managed to hold back a gasp. Ben was the
best
man
? But everyone thought she wanted to marry Ben.
Preston
Smith
. Amy rolled the name around in her mind. The only Preston she knew was Preston Kendrick, but he was married with a wife and children. Smith, just like Grant’s fake last name. Surely her stirring suspicions couldn’t be right.