CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

C HAPTER T WENTY-ONE

Eugene That Same Day

B art politely introduced Isabelle to the staff. “We’re short an assistant manager right now. He usually worked the night shift. But these fine people are covering until we get a replacement. Of course, they’re getting overtime.” He chuckled.

“Nice to meet all of you.” Isabelle nodded. “I’m just here on a temporary basis until Mr. Spangler is ready to get back to work. My purpose is to make sure everyone has what they need and that things keep moving along smoothly. From what I’ve gathered, with the exception of the assistant manager, this is a well-run operation.”

There were a few head bobs and a few side glances. She wondered how many of the employees knew about the former assistant manager’s indiscretion. Probably everyone. There were only ten on staff, and the place wasn’t massive. “I’ll be spending the night, so if anyone wants to discuss anything with me, I am available until tomorrow afternoon.”

Murmurs of thanks and acknowledgment buzzed through the group. “Well, let’s not give Isabelle a bad impression. I’m sure you all have work to do.” Bart chuckled. The group dispersed, and Bart continued to show Isabelle the facility, hoping she wouldn’t want to see the laundry area. But alas, she asked when they finished their rounds.

“Bart, where are the laundry facilities?”

“We had a problem with a few of the machines. Backed up and flooded the area. We had someone come in to clean it up, but we’re sending out the linens to a commercial place for the time being.”

“How long will it take before it’s operational? Sending to an outside service must be costly. I’ll have to check to see if insurance will cover it.” She pulled out a small notepad and jotted something down.

Bart was nervous. There wasn’t a leak, but they were sending the laundry out until he could pack up the powder machine and get it out of there. He knew he had to wait until Isabelle was asleep. He could lie and say he wanted to check on the status of the room, but she might want to tag along. No, it was better if he pretended to leave and then snuck back later that night. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, anyway, but he’d have to sleep in his truck.

In the meantime, Annie phoned Geiser Creek and ordered lumber to be delivered to Eugene, today! She used one of her business names, so as not to draw any attention to herself. If Sasha was tailing Bart, and Eileen was on Dickie, Annie and Myra wanted to be sure Isabelle had some backup. As soon as Dickie heard there was an immediate delivery required, he notified Kat. “Get your gear. You’ve got a run to Eugene. Some V.A. project, and they need a few more pieces. Box truck oughta do it.”

“Since it’s late in the day, how about I spend the night at the inn in Eugene? It’ll give me a chance to experience the place—a real bed, shower, and a rug under my feet.” Kathryn was attempting to sell Dickie on the idea. “I could spread the word. Good, free publicity.”

“Let me check to see if there’s an extra room.” He phoned the inn and asked, then turned to Kat. “You’re in luck. We just got a cancellation. Otherwise, you’d have to shack up with your roomie.”

Kat feigned a confused expression. “Oh, Isabelle. Right. Is that where she is?”

“Yes.” He had to get moving if he wanted to get the woman out of Blaine and back to his cabin. It was six hours to Blaine, and then another six hours back. He knew Oliver was freaking out, so Dickie cancelled the meeting for the following day and decided to drive to Blaine that evening. It was better to do the transfer at night, anyway.

* * *

It was around dinnertime when Bart told Isabelle that Kat had been given a run to Eugene and would probably arrive shortly.

“I guess I’ll take you ladies to dinner, if that’s alright.” Bart was behaving like a person with some authority. She accepted graciously. As they crossed the road, she noticed Sasha slumped down in the passenger seat of her car, pretending to doze.

At the restaurant, Bart was greeted by a middle-aged woman wearing a robin’s-egg blue uniform. “Hello, Bart. Back in town again so soon?”

Bart tried not to seem rattled. He’d forgotten that he’d had lunch at that same place just a few days ago when he’d locked up the laundry room. “Yeah. Just can’t keep away from your cooking, Marie.”

“Don’t believe a word he says.” Marie chuckled.

Isabelle didn’t need any convincing of that. “Hi, Marie. I’m Isabelle. I’m the temporary facilities manager for the Cascade Inns.”

“Temporary? That’s too bad. You’ve got a much prettier face than this lug.” She jerked her thumb at Bart and chortled.

Isabelle smiled and followed her to a four-top table in the front corner near the windows. Kat was pulling into the parking lot across the street, and Isabelle sent her a text. When she got out of the truck, she waved and made a motion of washing her hands and splashing water on her face. Bart nodded, and Isabelle gave her a thumbs-up. Isabelle watched Kat go into the main office. Several minutes later, she exited without her Geiser Creek jumpsuit and bounded toward the restaurant.

“Hey guys!” She made her way to the table. “I love the idea of uniforms. I don’t know why I never thought of buying a bunch of jumpsuits for when I drive. Always wear jeans and a flannel shirt, but I kinda like the one-piece zip-up thing.” She pulled out a chair before Bart had the opportunity to make the gentlemanly gesture. Kat was a huge presence, even for him.

Small talk ensued as they ordered Marie’s meatloaf with gravy, mashed potatoes, and carrots. More small talk, food, then it was time for Bart to make a move. At least pretend.

He took the check from Marie and handed her cash. “And can you make me a roast beef with cheddar on rye?”

“Didn’t you have enough to eat? You practically licked the plate and ate four biscuits.” Marie pretended to scold him.

“One for the road.”

“It’s only an hour drive, Bart. You got a hole in one of your legs?” Marie asked.

Isabelle and Kat suppressed a laugh. That was the joke they made about Maggie.

Marie added the sandwich to the bill and handed it to him.

“Need that receipt, please,” he reminded her. As the three left the restaurant, Bart turned to them. “I’ll be heading back. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks for all your help. And dinner.” Isabelle held out her hand.

“Ditto,” Kat said with a firm grip.

The two women followed Bart across the street. They went inside, and Bart got in his truck and left the parking lot. Sasha immediately went into action. She was several car lengths behind him when he made a right turn into a neighborhood. Sasha thought it was strange that he didn’t go straight onto the interstate. Two blocks down, he made another right turn, and then another. He was at the intersection two blocks from the inn. He crossed the main road, turned his truck around, and positioned himself so he could see the parking lot of the inn.

That’s odd. Sasha sent a text to Charles:

Appears target is waiting for a target.

Charles answered: Explain, pls .

Sasha tapped out the message: Target went around the corner and is now situated within sight of inn.

Charles replied: Interesting. Stay with him.

* * *

At the same time, Bart called Dickie to let him know he’d taken the women to dinner and he was now parked a few hundred yards away from Isabelle’s car. “She can’t go nowhere without me noticing.” Bart was somewhat enjoying playing secret agent man.

“Well, don’t lose her,” Dickie replied. “I’m on my way to Blaine.”

“I thought you were gonna do that tomorrow.”

“Oliver is having a nervous breakdown, so I gotta get her out of there.”

“Where you takin’ her?” Bart asked.

“My cabin.” Dickie was not in the mood for idle chatter. “Listen, let me go do what I gotta do, and you do what you gotta do.”

“Right, boss. I won’t let her out of my sight.” He didn’t realize Dickie had already ended the call.

Sasha had a feeling Bart was either tailing Kathryn or Isabelle. She figured she’d find out soon enough. She slouched down and pulled the bill of her cap over her eyes. She was going to get a little shut-eye. The GPS she’d planted on Bart’s truck also had a signaling device to alert her when the vehicle was set in motion. By the way Bart was positioned, Sasha didn’t think he was going anywhere, by truck or by foot. If he was secretly keeping an eye on the inn, then he couldn’t afford to be recognized.

Kat and Isabelle went to the main office to get keys to their rooms. There was only one double bed per room, so it would be uncomfortable for them to stay together.

From where he sat, Bart watched Isabelle walk up the flight of stairs to her room; Kat was on the floor below. He tried not to have fantasies about the two women together. He didn’t consider himself a pervert. Didn’t all men have that fantasy? Especially if they were included in the fun? Most of his pals had mentioned it on one or two occasions when they saw two attractive women together without male companionship. In high school, when you saw two girls together, you hoped one would go for you, and the other for your friend. Now that he was over thirty, two women at a time was much more intriguing. He had to stop his thoughts from wandering. Females were what had gotten him into trouble in the first place. Not that he’d had any plans whatsoever for that teenager. He just liked being a hero to a cute young thing. So much for that idea.

* * *

Isabelle phoned Kat on her burner. “I just got a text from Charles. Sasha is tailing Bart, but he drove around the neighborhood, and is parked a block or so from here. According to Sasha, it looks like he may be tailing one of us.”

Kat laughed. “That’s a riot! I wonder which one.”

“My guess would be me. Everyone seemed a bit jumpy about my coming down here.”

“Considering someone disappeared from this inn, yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Bart told me the laundry room was locked because there had been a flood, and it’s in the process of being cleaned up.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

“Would you?” Isabelle asked.

“Good point. So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to look at the blueprints and then take a stroll to the laundry room.”

“You plan on breaking in?” Kat asked.

“If necessary. You game?”

“Aren’t I always?” Kat replied. “So if he’s got eyes on the front of the inn, how do we leave our rooms without being seen?”

“You’re on the first floor. Is there a rear window?”

“Hang on, let me check.” Kat went into the small bathroom. “Just a vent window in the bathroom. I doubt I could fit through it.”

“Well, then, I’m going to go to the main office and take a closer look around. Pretend I need a bottle of water.”

“Alright. I’ll wait a few minutes and meet you there. I’ll go to the truck and scoot around the front so he won’t see me go inside.”

“Okay. See you in a few.” Isabelle hung up and went to the front office.

“Hi. You’re Bethany, right?” Isabelle greeted the substitute night manager.

“Yes. Hi. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to take a look around again. It was a lot to absorb today.” She tapped her notepad with a pen. She didn’t want to ask any questions about Lori, since she wasn’t sure whom she could trust.

“Gotcha.” Bethany bobbed her head.

“Oh, Bart mentioned the laundry room is closed.”

“Yeah, a leak or something.”

“So when it’s fully functional, how does housekeeping get everything up and down the stairs?”

“A dumbwaiter.” She craned her neck. “Down the hall next to the staircase.”

“Clever.”

Isabelle went down a short hall that led to a small storage space for the office supplies, water, and snacks. At the end of the hall was a fire exit, a door that led down to the basement, and another door that covered the dumbwaiter. There was a hydraulic lift that could hold up to two hundred pounds. It was large enough for a single laundry cart. Or a single person, if they were petite. Maybe that’s how they got her out of here.

Isabelle needed no further convincing that Lori George had not left of her own volition. She felt it in her gut. Which was confirmed by everyone’s bizarre behavior at the mere mention of Eugene. She had to get down to the basement level. Change of plans.

She sent Kat a text to tell her to distract the manager. Ask her to go outside and gaze at the constellations. Anything to get her out of the building for a few minutes.

Kat sent back a message that she would get her phone and pull up the app for Night Sky. Wherever you aimed your camera, the name of the constellation would pop up at the bottom of the screen. It was the one gadget Kat really appreciated, especially when she was in Montana. She figured she could get some pretty good stargazing in here in the Pacific Northwest.

Kat walked into the main office. “Hey there. I was wondering if you could help me out. I have this app on my phone that tells me what the constellations are. You have any favorites I should try to catch?” Kat made a gesture for Bethany to follow her.

Bethany looked around. “I guess it’s alright. I’ll leave the door open in case the phone rings.”

They walked a few feet from the main entrance to the side of the building. Close enough to hear any incoming calls, but dark enough to get a decent view of the sky. Bethany was curious about the sky map, and Kat was more than happy to explain and show her how to use it. Before becoming a long-hauler, Kat had been a nuclear engineer. A graduate of MIT. All things cosmic and subatomic were of interest to her.

* * *

Isabelle pushed the button that opened the door to the dumbwaiter. She peeked inside to see if there were any other buttons to push to lower the rig, then spotted the emergency lever. She looked closely. It was separate from the alarm. She took a chance, folded herself in, and pushed the button with a D . The motor whirred quietly, and the lift descended to the basement floor. Except for the light coming from the shaft, the room was dark. She turned on the flashlight part of her phone and scanned the room. No signs of flooding, but maybe the cleanup company had done an impeccable job. She looked at the blueprints and counted off feet the old-fashioned way by using her own. She had done it over a hundred times and had a pretty good idea her foot was nine inches if she wasn’t wearing shoes. According to the blueprint, the room should be twenty-five feet deep, but she counted only twelve. Half the size? She measured again. When she reached the other side of the room for the second time, she placed her hands against the wall. It was a sliding panel. She saw there were latches at the top and bottom, keeping the panel secure. Isabelle placed her phone on the floor with the light shining upward. Click. Got the first latch. Click . Got the second one. She took a deep breath. Moving the panel could set off all sorts of alarms, but she had to go for it. She slid the door slowly. No alarms, but there was another door in front of her with a digital padlock. That was going to require some help, and she wasn’t equipped with the tools she needed. She took a close-up photo of the lock and sent it to Charles and Fergus. Maybe they could come up with a solution, except time was of the essence. Bethany would be looking for her. Charles answered immediately.

Try: 6-4-3-5-7

Isabelle had no idea where Charles got that number, but she gave it a go.

No

Try: 4-6-3-5-7

Still no.

Try: 7-5-3-6-4

A slight buzz sounded, and the door unlocked.

How did you do that?

Charles replied: Greasy fingerprints. It had to be a combination of those .

Glad you got it on the third try. Don’t go anywhere .

She scanned the small room with the light from her phone. And there it was: a long steel table with a machine at one end, covered in white dust. A cart containing boxes of one-and-a-half-inch-square glycine envelopes was against the wall. She pulled out one of the small bags and tried to scrape a few flecks of dust inside. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She took a few photos, backed out of the room, and pulled the door shut. The lock engaged automatically. She moved the panel back into place, fastened the latches, and folded herself back into the dumbwaiter. She pressed the red U button and hoped no one had noticed she had been missing for almost fifteen minutes. As the cart moved upward, she sent the photos off to Charles.

When the dumbwaiter reached the main floor, she peered out to see if anyone was around. Empty. Her heart was racing. She had to get back to secure quarters quickly. She climbed out of the dumbwaiter, shut the door, and walked back to the small lobby area. Kat and Bethany were entering at the same time. Isabelle let out a long exhale. A little too close for comfort.

“Kat showed me this really cool app on her phone.” Bethany grinned. “It has a telescopic lens, too!”

“We were able to see a few shooting stars,” Kat said gleefully.

“Sorry I missed it.” Isabelle pretended to pout.

“I’ll let you play with my toy tomorrow night when we’re back in Salem,” Kat joked. She yawned and stretched. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

Isabelle noticed a few board games on a shelf. “Do many visitors use these?”

“Sometimes. Once in a while, there’ll be two or three truckers who want to relax with some company.”

Isabelle nodded. “Come on, Kat, let’s give it a go.” She pulled one of the boxes off the shelf.

Kat blinked several times. “Scrabble?” Then she realized Isabelle had something important to share. “I haven’t played in years, but sure. I think I can muster another hour of consciousness.”

“Super,” Isabelle said, and turned to Bethany. “What time do you knock off in the morning?”

“Six.”

“I may not be up, so if I don’t see you, it was nice meeting you. And remember to call me if you need anything.”

Isabelle tucked the game under her arm so that if Bart was, in fact, tailing her, he would see that the two women were going to play a board game. Nothing suspicious about that. As soon as they got into the room, Isabelle began to tell Kat about the secret room, the machine. Everything. She showed her the photos and told her how Charles was able to crack the code.

“Holy guacamole!” Kat said. “You took a very big chance.”

“I know, but it was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore.”

“You are something else.” Kat gave her a high five. “We’d better tell everyone.”

It was almost time for the Sisters to check in with one another. Kat’s laptop was still in her room, so she cozied up to Isabelle for the Zoom meeting. As soon as everyone tuned in, people were talking a mile a minute.

Myra took charge. “Sounds like we’ve had a productive day. Isabelle, you go first.”

Isabelle recounted her discovery of the secret room and the machine. “I’m guessing a powder mill.” She uploaded the photos.

Kat dabbed her finger in the smidgen of residue. “This seems a little different from what we found on the desk in the apartment.”

“In what way?” Myra asked.

“This is much finer. The powder on the desk was a little grainier.”

“Hang onto it for now,” Charles suggested. “If we bring it to a lab and it’s a controlled substance, which I assume it is, you could end up in the nick.”

Fergus agreed. “We don’t want to go down that road again.”

Everyone agreed. There was once a time when the Sisters were under house arrest, but a clever Lizzie Cricket figured out a way to remove the ankle monitors and wrap them around the barn cats.

Maggie was next with her information about the George family interview. “My friend Steve is going to run my story about Lori George on the eleven o’clock news. We want to give her more of a three-dimensional presence. I sent off a collage of photos and some quotes from her parents.”

“Did they mention getting the Bureau involved?” Myra asked.

“Yes, but I think they’ll hold off for a few days. Though if local law enforcement doesn’t step it up, they’re not going to have any other choice.”

“No ransom demand, correct?” Charles asked.

“No. Nothing. If she was kidnapped, you’d think someone would come up with demands,” Maggie added.

“True.” Myra thought for a moment. “I’m going to call my friend Ellie Stillwell. She has an in with a U.S. Marshal. Maybe he can help without bringing in the bureaucrats.” She checked her watch. “I should probably call her now. It’s eleven o’clock there.” Myra stepped away from the live chat and dialed Ellie’s number.

“Myra. Is everything alright?” a sleepy voice asked.

“Hi, Ellie. So sorry to call so late, but I’m in Salem, Oregon, and a young woman has gone missing.”

“That’s terrible.” Ellie was wide awake at that point.

“Do you think you could call your friend Marshal Gaines?”

“Yes, but why, if I may ask?” Ellie and Myra had met several years before, when Ellie first opened her art center in Asheville. Ellie was an avid animal lover and held several events to raise money for shelters, which was right up Myra’s alley. They had remained good pals since.

“The young woman disappeared from an inn owned by my friend Milton Spangler. She is of Native American heritage; local law enforcement doesn’t seem to be doing much, and her family wants to call the Bureau of Indian Affairs. I was hoping you could call the Marshal and see if he had some free time to come out here to assist. Unofficially, of course. And we would pay all his expenses, and for his time.”

Ellie fell silent for a moment. “Do you think she’s been kidnapped?”

“There haven’t been any ransom demands. We think she may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Chris used to work in the missing children division, so he has a lot of experience in that area. Let me call him and see if he’s available. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back, or I’ll have Chris call you directly. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Thanks so much.” Myra was stroking her pearls as she returned to the table, where everyone was speculating who Bart was tailing. “Ellie is going to call Marshal Gaines and get back to me.”

“Brilliant. What’s next on the list?”

It was Annie’s turn. “Seems like our Oliver is in a financial bind. He needs two hundred grand.”

“Oi. What for?” Charles asked.

“Says it’s for his new car, but I think he’s got some kind of drug issue going on.”

“Well, that fits with what we found on the desk in the apartment,” Kat said.

“It could be tied into the pills and powder,” Isabelle added. “He may be running a counterfeit fentanyl operation.”

“And that may be why some of the local authorities have been laid-back in trying to find either of the girls,” Maggie suggested.

“Charles, did you find anything unusual in the deputy sheriff’s financials?” Annie asked.

“There are monthly deposits of two thousand dollars going into his account from an offshore shell company,” Fergus said.

“Another culprit to add to this mix.” Annie jotted down some notes. “That makes Dickie, Bart, Oliver, and Deputy Nelson.”

“What about the gas-station guy?” Maggie asked.

“That was probably a one-off to get him to change his story,” Charles said. “There’s been no other activity as far as we could tell.”

“Alright. We have a lot of work cut out for us.” Myra was stroking her pearls again.

“Has anyone heard from Eileen? Eyes on Dickie?” Annie asked.

Fergus chimed in. “They are heading north on I5. Been on the road for a couple of hours.”

“Do you suppose they’re going to Blaine?” Isabelle asked. “That’s where the last U.S. inn is located.”

“That’s a good guess,” Charles replied. “I’ll check in with Avery.” Charles disappeared from the screen for a couple of minutes.

“What’s next?” Myra asked.

Fergus looked down at a sheet of paper on his desk. “Lab results should be in tomorrow.”

“Wow. That was fast.”

“It helps to know a lad or two.” Fergus winked. “Did you ever find out what Milton was going to talk to his sons about?”

“We’re going to see Milton tomorrow. Patricia has a few appointments in town, so we offered to bring lunch.”

“Splendid,” Charles said. “The lab is going to send all the results to me as soon as they’re finished.”

Myra’s phone rang. It was a man’s voice. “Hello, Myra? This is Chris Gaines. Ellie asked that I call. What can I do for you?”

Myra explained the situation as best she could. She knew she didn’t have a lot of information to share, which was why she was seeking his help or advice.

“I have the next three days off. I could fly out there with Chandler tomorrow. We worked a lot of missing cases together, so when the service was going to retire him, I brought him home with me.” Myra was wondering what kind of person Chandler could be, someone who had no place to live after being in the U.S. Marshal’s service. Was he reliable ? “Chandler is my dog,” Chris clarified. “But this has to be totally off the books.”

“Oh, we’ll pay you cash,” Myra offered.

“No, I mean I cannot get paid to do side work. Against regulations. But it doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend of a friend.”

“How will we compensate you?” Myra asked.

“Make a donation to one of the retired K-9 associations.”

“That, we can certainly do.” Myra was relieved. She’d thought he might decline the request. “We will also make your travel arrangements. Just tell us which airport you’ll fly from and how we can get a ticket for Chandler.”

“Charlotte airport, and I’ll take care of Chandler. They usually let him fly for free.”

“Wonderful. I cannot thank you enough, Marshal.”

“Anything for Ellie. And please call me Chris. Remember, I am off duty.”

“Whatever you say, Chris.” Myra was smiling from ear to ear. “Text me your info. DOB. The usual.”

“Will do. See you sometime tomorrow.”

“Thanks again.” Myra ended the call. She turned to the group. “We have a bonafide U.S. Marshal joining in the search tomorrow. But he’s technically off duty. He’s bringing his partner, Chandler.” Myra grinned. “Retired K-9 in the people-finding business.”

Hoots and yelps filled the airwaves. “Bravo, love!” Charles grinned.

“I know a few lads or two, myself,” Myra said proudly.

“Phillip sent a text. He and the flight crew are ready, so let’s send them to Charlotte. This way, Chris and Chandler don’t have to go through all the airport rigamarole,” Annie said.

“Great. I’ll send Chris the info,” Myra said.

“Okay! We’re moving and grooving.” Annie swayed back and forth.

Maggie looked around the table. “Food? Anybody? Anybody? It’s past eight.”

Annie pulled out the room service menu and handed it to her. “Did you eat your apple?”

“Yes, I did.” She stuck out her tongue in her typical Maggie fashion. “And thank you. No orange fingers.” She held up her hands.

Isabelle and Kat touted the down-home food they’d had at Marie’s and how “almost normal” Bart seemed to be when he wasn’t around Dickie.

They were about to wrap up the meeting when Myra remembered she had taken photos of the Ligustrum sinense privet. “I want to send this to Yoko and see if she can get something like it for the farm.” She showed the photos to Charles.

“Those are lovely. For around the garden off the atrium?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Myra said.

“Have at it.” Charles smiled.

The atrium had become one of Myra’s favorite rooms in the house. Even though the farm covered dozens of acres, with no neighbors visible, she wanted the atrium to feel a little cozier, more private. It was a sanctuary that Charles had built for her while she was away on one of her “missions.” “Adventures.” Sometimes they were interchangeable. Myra uploaded the photos to Yoko’s cloud account. No need to wake her fellow Sister and landscape consultant over bushes.

Everyone signed off after they saluted Lady Liberty. They ordered dinner and waited up to watch the late evening news. The piece Maggie had written was read almost verbatim by the newscaster. A montage of images of the missing woman faded in and out.

“Bravo, Maggie!” Annie hooted. “That should rattle a few chains, jog a few memories.”

“Or scare the pants off someone.” Myra smirked.