The next thing she knew, Mrs. Richardson had opened the car door and was pulling Kate out. Her head was swirling and all she wanted to do was stretch out somewhere and go to sleep. The grass looked so good that she made a movement as though she meant to lie down on it.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Mrs. Richardson said.
As dizzy as she was, Kate heard the difference in her voice. “Accent,” she mumbled.
“Comes and goes,” Mrs. Richardson said. She led Kate to some stairs up to a cabin with a wide porch.
“I don’t think...” Kate began and took a step back.
“Come on,” the woman said and her accent seemed to have returned. “The doctor is inside. He’ll make you feel much better.”
Kate had a glimpse of what looked to be thick tropical forest all around the house. “Have a client...like...buy this,” she muttered as they went inside. There was a couch and through a doorway she could see a bed. Ah, to lie down. To sleep!
But Mrs. Richardson led Kate to a stout wooden chair and practically pushed her down into it.
“Just sit there and I’ll go get the doctor.”
Kate’s knees were so weak that she could do nothing but sit, and the moment she did, her eyes closed.
TWENTY-FOUR
When Kate woke, it took her a while to adjust. She was in a hard wooden chair, her body stiff from lack of movement, and her arms were behind her. When she tried to move, she found her wrists were tied together. From what she could feel, it was one of those plastic zip ties that could hardly be cut with scissors, much less by a human.
With her Realtor eye, she looked around the cabin. It was thirty or forty years old at least and seemed to be just two rooms. She was in the middle of the big, open living room facing a heavy wooden table with mismatched chairs. At the end was a kitchen with old cabinets and heavy iron hardware.
I bet Dan’s company made those, she thought.
Twisting as far as she could, she saw two closed doors. She’d seen a bed, so the other one was probably a bath.
The place reeked of male. This cabin was a place where men gathered and smoked cigars and fried fish. There was no TV and she doubted if a cell phone had ever been allowed to enter.
By the light through the dirty windows, it looked to be early evening. Six, maybe. She was beginning to remember how she got there. The woman! Who was she?
She wondered if anyone was searching for her. Would Jack want to know where she was? Or would he say she’d probably run off with a pastry chef and would return in the wee hours? But Aunt Sara might make him get off the couch and go look for Kate. How long before they found her car? Before they asked Tayla? Before—Behind her, she heard a door open and footsteps. It took some willpower, but she didn’t turn to see who it was. Quiet! she told herself. Don’t panic. Delay as long as you can.
“A bath made me feel better,” said a voice behind her.
Kate kept her eyes straight ahead while the woman came into view. She was the shape of the Mrs. Richardson Kate had met, but there was a drastic change in her looks. Her blond hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, and the color looked natural. The dark tone of her skin was gone. Her plain clothes had been replaced with designer wear.
With the change of colors and attire, Kate knew who she was: Alastair’s mother.
Norma? No. Noreen.
She stood a few feet in front of Kate and for a moment stared at her. “Do I need to introduce myself?”
“I think you’re Mrs. Stewart.”
“Yes. Alastair’s mother.”
At the name, there was a flash of anger in her eyes. With uncles like hers, Kate was experienced with rage. Her uncles expected to be obeyed, and when they weren’t, they allowed their self-righteous anger to burst into flame. This woman was wearing the same expression as those men.
Whatever I do, Kate thought, I don’t want to challenge her. Don’t want to send her over the edge. Time is what I need. Time to let Aunt Sara and Jack find me.
Kate swallowed. “I’d really like to hear the truth of what happened.”
“My son did not kill those women.”
“That’s why he was released. I think the evidence proves that he wasn’t there when they died.”