Appalachian Abduction (Lavender Mountain Book 2; Appalachian Magic) Read online

  “I’m sorry. James hasn’t mentioned any of that to me. Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about us. We’re business partners. And I’m grateful to him for helping me with this case, of course.”

  Lilah raised a brow. “That’s all there is to it?”

  She flushed, thinking of his kisses. “What has he told you about me?”

  “Nothing. But anyone can see the sparks between you two. And it’s more than that. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  She couldn’t stop the warm glow that lit her belly or the smile that lifted her lips. “Really?”

  “Positive. I’ve worried about James since he returned from Afghanistan. He’s been withdrawn and alone for too long.”

  The warm glow faded. “You know I work undercover. Our living together is temporary. I won’t be staying long.”

  “Atlanta’s not so far you can’t visit on weekends,” Lilah said. “You have to come back to Lavender Mountain in the spring, when the whole forest comes alive. Or the fall, when the leaves are changing color. Right now, we’re not at our best.”

  Lilah sounded as if she worked at the local tourist office. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. But working undercover isn’t like being a regular cop. I can’t always come and go as I please. It’s not a job. It’s a lifestyle.”

  “Sounds extremely demanding and not much fun.”

  Fun? No. The fun had worn off years ago. Charlotte couldn’t remember the last time she found it even remotely pleasurable. But she did important work. Work that few others wanted to take on.

  Ding. The portable kitchen timer startled them both.

  That time had gone by quickly. After rinsing the dye, Charlotte realized she’d have to eat her earlier words about it being “just hair” that could always “be fixed.”

  Lilah let out a startled wail.

  Charlotte’s formerly auburn locks were now a mess of tangled black straw. All she needed was a hawk of a nose and a wart on her chin for a perfect Halloween witch disguise.

  Too bad it was November.

  A knock rapped the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?” James asked.

  Quickly she wrapped her ruined hair up in a turban. The guy was probably impatient for a shower. “One minute,” she called out.

  “Sorry,” Lilah breathed.

  “No big deal. During work hours, I always wear it in a ponytail anyway.”

  Lilah washed and dried her hands and opened the door. “Guess I’ll be heading home now. Ellie might wake up feeling miserable and want me.” Her face lit up. “Have I showed you her picture?” Without waiting for an answer, Lilah lifted her purse from the table and pulled out a cell phone.

  James groaned. “Here we go.”

  “Just one quick look,” his sister promised, holding out the phone to Charlotte.

  Ellie’s toothless grin and folds of baby fat were typical, but the crystal blue eyes were not. They were the startling blue shared by James and Lilah. She’d recognize that shade anywhere.

  The towel slipped from her hair and dropped to the floor.

  James stared at her, eyes wide and jaw slack. “What happened to your hair?” he asked, voice booming.

  Lilah poked her brother in the side and scowled.

  “I mean... I’m sure it’ll look better when it dries,” he amended.

  “Sure.” Like hell it would. She sat down at the table and felt the tangled tumbleweed of hair. The damage might be beyond repair. Maybe she should cut it supershort. Absently she said goodbye to Lilah, and the door opened and closed.

  James sat down beside her. “So...you got some conditioner? Darla—my other sister—once had a dye job disaster. She went around the house slathered in hair conditioner for a week to repair the damage.”

  Charlotte sucked in her breath at the mention of Darla. That sister’s name had been all over the news last year. She couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt if something tragic happened with her brothers—no matter how big of a pain in the ass they could be. “Yeah, Lilah bought a bottle. It’s in the bathroom.”

  He rose from the table and returned with it in hand. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  Before she could protest, he poured half the bottle in her hair and gently ran his fingers over the knots.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Shhh...relax,” he whispered.

  His fingers pressed into her scalp and neck, massaging and caressing. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the pleasure of the moment. Not even cold glops of conditioner running down her face and nape deterred from the comfort of his touch.

  A vision of Ellie’s blue eyes flashed through her mind, and a primitive urge to procreate clenched her gut. Hell, she hadn’t known she had a biological clock. That wasn’t anywhere on her radar.

  Until now.

  That realization almost made her want to run from the hills.

  Chapter Eight

  “The bloodwork came in,” James announced at his office the next morning, slamming the phone down. “That was no deer killed in the woods. The blood was human.”

  Charlotte’s face paled, and panic lit her eyes. “It wasn’t... It can’t be Jenny’s. Maybe someone’s just been injured—”

  He hastened to reassure her. “We won’t have the DNA results for weeks. And it’s not necessarily from any of the captive girls. Anyone could have had an accident on a four-wheeler.”

  “We checked the hospitals and clinics. No serious accidents were reported near the vicinity. It has to be one of those girls.”

  Privately he agreed, but kept his mouth shut. “We’ll find out soon enough. Harlan wants us and Sammy in his office right now to work out a plan.”

  As they scurried down the hall, their coworker joined them midway. “What the hell?” Sammy asked, pointing to Charlotte’s hair.

  “Red hair is a little too conspicuous,” she answered stiffly. “I took corrective measures.”

  James stifled a grin at her tight French braid. But Charlotte could dye her hair green and purple, and it wouldn’t detract from her beauty one iota.

  Zelda was seated by Harlan’s desk, taking notes. “Subpoena the gatekeeper’s records,” Harlan ordered.

  She adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose. “How far back ya want me to go?”

  “At least a year.”

  Zelda nodded and left the room.

  “Let’s hit the ground running today,” Harlan announced, slapping his hands on the desk. “I won’t have my officers blindsided again like y’all were yesterday.” He slid a pair of car keys across the table. “Here’s your new vehicle. A temporary loaner from Floyd County until the destroyed cruiser is replaced. James and Detective Helms will canvass the Falling Rock neighborhood today, show photos of the Ashbury girl, and see if anyone’s spotted her, or if their reaction is suspicious. Sammy, I want you to—”

  Charlotte abruptly stood. “No. This isn’t a good idea.”

  James shook his head. She never ceased to surprise him. “I thought you’d want to take action. You’ve been champing at the bit ever since you got here.”

  “If we do this, the traffickers will know something’s up, and they’ll find a way to transport the girls out.”

  “We can have an officer watch the gate to search any suspicious vehicles that leave,” he suggested.

  “What about the dirt path out back? If we give them any wiggle room, we can kiss the whole operation goodbye. I’ve been tracking them for over a damn year, and I won’t have the girls’ lives jeopardized.”

  He stood as well, standing toe to toe with her. So much for last night’s détente. “Nobody wants that. But we can’t just sit on our asses and do nothing.”

  Charlotte turned to Harlan. “Can’t you do something to speed up those DNA results? All we need is one concrete piece of evidence for
a judge.”

  “So, what’s your great plan?” James interrupted, stung at her quick dismissal of him. “Keep sitting out in the woods every day and hoping Jenny or one of the others happens to look out the window again?”

  Her face flushed, staining her cheeks crimson.

  “Simmer down, you two,” Harlan said.

  They breathed hard, staring at one another. Sammy gave a low, amused whistle.

  “I said sit down,” Harlan thundered. “Last I checked, I’m the one running this show, and I’ll decide what strategy to take.”

  James felt like a chastened schoolboy as he settled back in his chair.

  “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Sammy will guard the back of the Stowerses’ property to make sure no one leaves via four-wheelers or a jeep on those back roads. He’ll let us know at once if there’s any suspicious activity.”

  “There are lives at stake here,” Charlotte cautioned. “I know we all want to rush in and rescue them.” Her fists clenched and unclenched by her sides. “But they’re in a volatile situation. We can’t make it worse for them by arousing premature suspicion. I say we keep an eye out from afar until the fund-raiser. Monitor the gate to make sure no one enters or exits Falling Rock to ensure that the captives stay where they are. Then, at the fund-raiser, we all spread out and find what we can inside the Stowerses’ house.”

  “Search without a warrant? Highly illegal,” James pointed out. “And how are we supposed to get in there?”

  “You said they always had lots of out-of-town guests staying over for the event. There’s bound to be lots of foot traffic between their place and the clubhouse. We’ll try and blend in with the crowd.”

  “And we don’t have to exactly call it a search,” Harlan said slowly. “I’d phrase it more like keeping our eyes open. If you know what I mean.”

  “You can call it what you want. I won’t leave until I’ve gone through every room in that house,” Charlotte retorted.

  “Ditto,” James agreed. “Although I still don’t see the harm in questioning the neighborhood today about who might have been driving that black sedan and if anyone’s seen Jenny Ashbury. Only good can come when a community is alerted. Plus, it’ll make future trafficking that much harder to slip by unnoticed if residents are on the lookout for unusual activity.” James turned to Sammy. “What do you think?”

  “I say let’s head out there now.” Sammy gave Charlotte an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Detective. Looks like you’re in the minority.”

  She ran a hand over the black wisps of hair that had escaped her braid. “At least let me be the one to question the Stowerses. That is, if they even answer the door.”

  “Not alone, you aren’t,” James said quickly. Did she think she could brush aside their partnership so easily? Hurt, mixed equally with anger, coursed through his body.

  “I can handle it,” she said curtly. “I’ve been doing this kind of work for years. Much longer than you have.”

  Ouch. Bitten in the ass by his own logic.

  “You’ll go together,” Harlan ordered. “It shouldn’t be me. The Stowerses would view a personal visit by the sheriff as more threatening and suspicious. They might be more open with James.”

  “Doubt that,” James muttered. “If you’re hoping they’ll invite me in for coffee and cookies, then you’ve forgotten what the Tedder name means around here.”

  Harlan shrugged. “Times are changing.” His eyes and face softened. “A lot of that is thanks to Lilah. She has a real way with people.”

  Sammy stood. “Shall we get started?”

  They all rose, and Harlan passed out copies of Jenny’s photo. “Zelda got copies ready for us this morning. I’ll form a blockade by the gatehouse and personally check every vehicle that passes by. Everyone all set?”

  They nodded and left his office. It was a tense walk to their new department-issued vehicle. James opened the door and Charlotte edged up to him.

  “Why don’t I drive today?”

  “I’m more familiar with the area. An advantage if another vehicle tails us again.”

  She didn’t look happy about his answer, but walked over to the passenger side and got in. He faced Charlotte before starting the car. “Why all the hostility in there? Thought we were a team.”

  “That doesn’t mean I quietly accept ideas that I think are wrong.”

  “I can’t believe you’re opposed to this questioning. You’ve been raring for action.”

  “I’ve already expressed my reservations. No need to rehash the issue. Let me do the talking when we get to the Stowerses’.”

  “No way,” he said, starting the engine and backing out of the parking space. “The cover story is that you’re a new trainee. It’ll look suspicious if you take the lead.”

  “Oh, alright,” she conceded in a huff. “I can admit when I’m wrong. You take the lead.”

  “Thank you.”

  They didn’t speak again until the Falling Rock gatehouse came into view. Charlotte placed a hand on his arm. “Sorry you felt attacked in there,” she said quietly. “I just... I can’t screw this up.”

  He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I know what this case means to you and to Jenny’s mother. I’d never do anything to jeopardize the girl’s safety.”

  Charlotte nodded. “And James, there’s no one I’d rather do this with than you.”

  * * *

  SHE MIGHT HAVE been opposed to the plan, but Charlotte’s heart skipped with excitement as they walked up the stone pathway to the Stowerses’ house. Most of the neighbors hadn’t been home today, but the few that were claimed no knowledge of a black sedan and said they didn’t recognize Jenny’s photo. But that was what they’d expected, anyway.

  This was it. The real reason for questioning Falling Rock residents. She was walking on the very ground where Jenny was being held against her will.

  James quirked a brow. “I’m lead. Right?”

  “Right,” she said grudgingly, stuffing her hands in the brown uniform jacket. Besides the fact that it would look suspicious for a trainee to do most of the talking, her personal involvement might make her too aggressive in questioning and blow up the case.

  The front door was a massive wooden showpiece, hand-carved with a mountain range design. James rang the doorbell, which seemed to echo in the cavernous interior.

  A petite older lady answered the door, wearing a gray dress with a spotless white apron. Her once-auburn hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a tight bun. She even wore a frilly lace maid’s cap like Charlotte had seen only in the movies.

  Fear snapped in the woman’s dark eyes. “May I help you?” she asked with a strong accent that Charlotte couldn’t quite place. Irish, perhaps, given the red hair and fair skin.

  “May we speak to the lady of the house?” James asked.

  “One moment. I’ll go see.”

  The ornate door closed, and Charlotte shared a look with James. The sound of it clicking shut echoed in the pit of her stomach like doom. She might have been opposed to the visit originally, but getting this close—only to be denied entrance—was excruciating.

  Yet she said nothing and stared straight ahead. You never knew when cameras or audio tapes might be rolling. If she were in the traffickers’ position, she’d certainly take those precautions.

  A staccato percussion sounded on the hard floor, and the door creaked open. “Hello, officers,” said Madeline Stowers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Long silver hair was loosely gathered at her nape in a stylish coif that was much too elegant to have been accidental. Self-consciously, Charlotte touched her hand to her own dyed hack job.

  Maddie’s face was beautiful and possessed the underlying bone structure of a model’s, although a faint tightness suggested plastic surgery accounted in part for the firm, barely wrinkled skin
. Her brown eyes were wide and her eyebrows thin and arched. A tasteful shade of rose-red glistened on her lips. She wore a black shirt with a deep V that belted at the waist and a black pencil skirt that highlighted her slim physique.

  “Mrs. Stowers?” James asked.

  “Call me Maddie.” She glanced at their nametags. “Officers Tedder and Hanson?” Her slight frown did nothing to mar the smooth plane of her forehead.

  Botox, Charlotte guessed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” James answered. “May we come in?”

  It took willpower not to sneak a surprised glance his way. A bold move. He hadn’t requested to enter anyone else’s home.

  A heartbeat of hesitation, and then, “Of course, do come in.” Maddie stepped aside and waved them along with a graceful sweep of an arm.

  Charlotte entered and picked up a familiar, powdery-sweet scent of black violets mixed with citrus. Maddie used the same brand of designer perfume that her late grandmother once favored. They passed through the foyer and entered the den. She felt her jaw drop, but she couldn’t contain her split-second reaction to the opulence. This was a whole new criminal class from what she was normally accustomed to dealing with. Usually the ones she sought undercover lived in squalor in a crack house or some back alley.

  The entire back wall was covered in plate-glass windows that afforded a stunning view of trees and mountains. Everywhere she looked, from the paneled, beamed ceilings and walls to the fireplace, the house consisted of custom wood, glass or stone. The only exception was the rustic touch of a twisting iron staircase that led upstairs.

  The mountain outdoor element also continued indoors, so much so that even a water element was featured by a huge, man-made rock waterfall that poured into a custom inlaid pool edged with stone and set by the crackling fireplace. The faint scent of burning oak gave the place a ski resort vibe. Two rolled towels were set by the pool, an invitation to indulge in luxury.

  “Please, come have a seat,” Maddie said, leading them to a leather sectional sofa that could easily accommodate a dozen people. “I take it you’re here to discuss some aspect of the fund-raiser? I’m surprised the sheriff didn’t contact me directly, though.”