The Secret at Solaire (6 page)

“Well, we are only here for a week,” Nancy reminded her. “I don't think Bess will keep up this pace once we're back in River Heights. But I don't like the idea of Bess—or anyone—working
out in a place where so many things are going wrong. Someone's sabotaging Solaire, and the Roziers and their staff are doing everything possible to pretend it isn't happening.”

“Of course they are,” George said. “It wouldn't exactly help their reputation if people knew what was going on.”

“But what
is
going on?” Nancy wondered aloud. “And why? Are the Roziers being sabotaged by a dissatisfied client? Or maybe by an angry employee—someone they fired?”

“Or one of Jacqueline's ex-boyfriends,” George guessed. “It's impossible to tell.”

Nancy sighed. “I still think Kim had the key to the whole story. Where do you suppose she is right now? I hope she's okay.”

Bess emerged from the shower and began changing into a T-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers.

“You're not going back into the gym, are you?” George asked her cousin.

“No, I just like the way workout clothes look,” Bess said, sounding more like her old self. “They make me feel athletic, even if I'm really not.” She glanced at the spa schedule that lay on the table. “Why don't we all go for our facials this afternoon?” she suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Nancy said. “Lunch first, and then the salon.”

• • •

Nancy lay back on a reclining chair, every inch of her body cushioned and relaxed. Soft music was filtering down from the loudspeakers, her eyes were closed, and a woman named Yvette was applying a thick layer of cool green mud to her face. It felt fantastic.

Bess lay on the chair beside Nancy. “I can just feel all my pores breathing,” she murmured. “My skin is improving every second.”

“You've always had great skin,” George reminded her.

“Solaire mineral mud is good for everyone,” Yvette said diplomatically.

Nancy opened her eyes as she heard the door to the salon open. Melina Michaels hesitated a moment, then walked in. Nancy hadn't really spoken to Melina since yesterday's hike. Melina had acted so selfishly then that Nancy hadn't planned to talk to her at all. But at dinner last night and at breakfast and lunch earlier in the day, she noticed that Melina always sat alone. And for some reason Nancy felt sorry for her. What Melina probably needed, she decided, was a good friend.

“Hi, Melina,” she said in a friendly tone. “Are you here for your mud treatment?”

“I don't think so,” Melina replied, “I just wanted to see what was going on in here.”

“The treatment is fabulous,” Bess assured her. “Now I know why Jacqueline has such perfect skin.”

“You don't really think Jacqueline Rozier uses that stuff, do you?” Melina scoffed.

“Of course Jacqueline uses Solaire products,” Yvette said quickly. “If you sit in that chair over there on the right, I'll be with you in a moment.”

“No thanks. What if you just give me some of that stuff in a jar, and I'll put it on in my room?” Melina countered.

Nancy frowned. Melina seemed to enjoy making things difficult for people whenever possible.

“It's not just the mud,” Yvette explained. “There is a cleaning solution to remove it, a gentle astringent and moisturizer afterward, and a special cream to be applied around the eyes. It's best if you let me take you through the routine the first time.”

“It does feel great,” George said with a sigh.

Melina hesitated a moment, then lay down in the chair on the right. “Okay, okay,” she told Yvette. But minutes later, when Yvette brought over the ceramic bowl filled with mineral mud, Melina sat bolt upright. “Don't touch me,” she hissed, and then fled from the salon.

“What was all
that
about?” George asked.

“I don't know,” Yvette said.

Me neither, Nancy thought. But it's definitely one more strange incident at Solaire to add to the list.

• • •

Nancy, Bess, and George had just left the salon when they saw the woman who worked at the office desk hurrying toward them.

“Ms. Drew,” she said, “your photographs just came back. Would you like to pick them up?”

“Definitely,” Nancy replied.

She and Bess and George followed the woman back to the office, where the woman handed Nancy a sealed paper envelope. “Hope they turned out well,” the woman said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Nancy said. “I can't wait to look at them.” But she made herself wait until she and her friends were safely back in their casita.

The first half of Kim's roll was all desert shots—a majestic saguaro cactus, the Catalina Mountains at sunset, a stand of wildflowers, a coyote crossing a dirt road.

“Here are the ones from the hike,” Nancy said, holding up one of the group shots. Then she frowned. “This is interesting,” she murmured, looking at the photograph Bess had taken of her and Kim. “Check out what's behind Kim,” Nancy said, handing the photo to George. What was behind Kim was the opposite shore of Tanque Verde Creek—the sloping white rock where Nancy had last seen Kim seconds before the flood hit.

“You mean the rock?” George asked.

“I mean this bit of brown and blue plaid
on
the rock,” Nancy answered, pointing to a small
corner of plaid at the very edge of the picture. “It looks like it could be the elbow of someone wearing a plaid shirt. Was anyone in our group wearing plaid that day?”

George and Bess both thought for a moment before shaking their heads.

“But we were the only ones down there,” Bess said.

“We
thought
we were,” Nancy said, trying to ignore a creeping feeling of dread. “But what if someone else was there all along? And what if the floodwaters didn't get Kim? What if our mystery person did?”

George sat cross-legged on the bed, her dark eyes disbelieving. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You're saying Kim Foster was
kidnapped?”

“I'm not sure,” Nancy admitted. “There's a good chance she was swept downstream by the flood. But Search and Rescue still hasn't found any trace of her.”

“But who would have kidnapped Kim?” Bess asked. “And why?”

“Kim was trying to give me some sort of information about Solaire,” Nancy said slowly. “I think someone wanted to make sure she never told anyone anything.”

Bess ran a brush through her straw-colored hair. “I can't believe someone from the spa would get involved in a kidnapping,” she said. “That's crazy!”

“Maybe,” Nancy agreed. “But what if Alain had been at the falls at the same time we were?”

“Alain doesn't wear anything like that shirt,” Bess said. “He usually wears workout clothes.”

“Actually, I haven't seen anyone here wearing a flannel shirt,” George admitted. “The sun's been too hot. Just about everyone wears T-shirts or polo shirts or tank tops.”

“That's true,” Nancy said with a sigh. “If there
was
another person down at the falls, it could have been someone totally unconnected to Solaire. Which makes this even more of a mystery,” she added.

“Maybe we should go to the police,” George suggested.

“The police already know about Kim's disappearance,” Nancy reminded her. “Jacqueline said they've been working with the Search and Rescue team, looking for her.”

“But they don't know what's going on here at the spa,” George pointed out.

“Neither do we,” Nancy said glumly. “And we have no real evidence whatsoever. I need more information before I can go to them.”

Later that afternoon, the three girls sat near the edge of the pool, talking. The day was getting cooler, and they were the last guests remaining by the water.

“It's just too beautiful to go indoors,” Bess
said contentedly. “I'm even thinking I need some outdoor exercise. Maybe I'll sign up for a riding lesson tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly.

“Oh, what?” George asked.

“Hank Meader, that's what.”

Bess dangled one leg in the cool water. “What about him?”

“Yesterday, after we got back from the falls, I saw Hank by the fountain, talking to Alain,” Nancy explained. “Anyway, Rhonda Wilkins came up to him, all upset because she'd scheduled a riding lesson with him, and he'd missed it. Hank told her it was because he'd been out buying horse feed that morning, and the fan belt on his pickup truck broke.”

“So?” George asked.

“So Hank wasn't where he was supposed to be yesterday afternoon. Maybe he wasn't buying horse feed, either,” Nancy said. “Maybe he was really at Tanque Verde Falls.”

Bess applied more sun block and took a drink of bottled water. “I don't know, Nan,” she said doubtfully. “That sounds a little farfetched to me. Why don't you believe Hank's story?”

“It's just a hunch,” Nancy admitted with a smile. “To tell you the truth, this theory does sound a little crazy, even to me.”

“Was Hank wearing a plaid shirt?” George asked.

Nancy shook her head. “No, blue denim. But it
was
a long-sleeved shirt, and Hank dresses kind of like a cowboy. He's definitely the type who'd own a plaid shirt. He could have been down at the falls, and then changed before coming back here.”

George stretched out on one of the lounges. “Not that I understand why Hank Meader would want to kidnap Kim, or how he could have been standing there and escaped the flood . . . but how do we find out if he owns a blue and brown plaid shirt?”

“Well, I'm pretty sure he lives on the grounds of the spa,” Nancy said. “There's a small adobe house that must have been part of the original ranch, about a hundred yards behind the stables. I've seen Hank go into it.”

“What if it's the tack room?” George asked.

“No one puts a tack room that far away from the stables,” Nancy said. “It's got to be Hank's house. And I'd love to have a look inside.”

Bess scrunched her eyes shut tight. “Why do I have this feeling that I'm going to help you break into someone's house?”

Nancy grinned. “You don't actually have to help me break in, Bess. All you have to do is distract Hank.”

• • •

Dinner had just ended later that evening, and the setting sun had turned the western horizon into a blazing streak of crimson. Nancy,
Bess, and George left Solaire's dining room and headed for the stables.

“Let's go over the plan one more time,” Nancy said.

“Okay. I go into the stables and ask Hank if he'll show me around,” Bess began. “I tell him I want to go riding tomorrow, and that I'd feel a lot better about it if I could see the horses first. Then I'll take a long time at each stall—asking lots of questions and talking to the horses and stuff.” Bess reached into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of carrot sticks she'd taken from the salad bar. “See? I even came prepared.”

“And I'm the lookout,” George continued. “I'll hide somewhere near the door of the stables. As soon as Hank even hints that he might leave, I'll signal you in the house.” She paused. “What kind of signal should I use?”

“Um—how about throwing some dirt at one of the windows?” Nancy suggested. “I'll hear that.”

“Right,” George said.

Nancy took a deep breath as she considered her own part in the plan. “And I'm going to break into Hank Meader's house and search for the shirt.” She shook her head. “If my dad, the lawyer, only knew . . . ”

Bess giggled nervously. “This sounds like a spy movie.”

“We are spying,” Nancy admitted as the stable building came into view. “But it's for a
good cause. We have to find out what happened to Kim.”

Dusk was falling now. The wooden stables were lit from inside, and the scents of hay and horses filled the air.

Nancy headed off to the right, planning to circle back toward Hank's house.

“Wish me luck,” Bess called softly.

“Good luck,” Nancy whispered, “to all of us.” She walked as quietly as she could, praying that Hank didn't have a dog or some sort of burglar alarm. At least none of the windows in the stables faced the house. Hank couldn't possibly see her.

The house was smaller and older than Nancy had realized. Its adobe walls were cracked from years in the sun, and the inside was completely dark. For a moment, Nancy wondered if anyone actually did live there.

Calmly, Nancy walked up to the thick wooden door and knocked, just in case someone other than Hank lived there. When no one answered, Nancy tried the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. I guess I'll have to break in after all, she thought.

Carefully, she walked around the side of the house. The windows weren't that far from the ground. She could probably boost herself up onto one of the thick wooden ledges, but then how would she actually get the window open?

At the back of the house, Nancy found her
answer. The back window was open. The sky was growing darker by the minute, and Nancy knew she had no time to lose. She jumped up onto the thick wooden ledge, then lowered herself feet first through the open window.

Her feet came down and Nancy heard the sound of something breaking. She froze, terrified. What had she broken? Had someone heard her?

Inside, the house was silent.

Taking a deep breath, Nancy turned on her flashlight and found a broken terra-cotta planter on the floor.

Nice move, Drew, she told herself, as she swept up the broken pieces and hid them deep in the garbage can.

Using her flashlight, Nancy checked out the tiny living room, bedroom, and kitchen. In the bedroom closet, she found plenty of long-sleeved shirts, even a few that were plaid, but none of the patterns matched the one in the photograph.