Betrayal

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fox Hill, Maryland, USA

IT WAS LATE IN THE DAY, about an hour from sundown, when Rory Mack Steele steered the rental SUV along the narrow access road. Trees reached out and gently scraped the sides of the vehicle. Rory wondered how much he would have to pay to get the black vehicle repainted. Then again, Highlander Investigative Services, the family company would pay for it. A clearing appeared ahead and in a few minutes, he saw the cottage about one hundred yards away. The place was more a fancy, two-story log home than the type of simple, rustic family cottage he was more accustomed to seeing.

He was here on a case, hired by the family in Alexandria who owned the property. The youngest daughter had disappeared. The father, Zachary Stalder, was a high-powered attorney who was convinced his eighteen-year-old Kaelyn had run away with a young man by the name of Matthew Dupre. A young man he and his wife didn't approve of.

Two hundred feet away from the two-story log cottage, Rory came to a stop. His eagle eye had spotted a wet trail coming from the trees over on the left. It led right across the open space to the side of the house. Someone was here.

The double-car garage was over on the right side of the cottage. Through the small windows of the left garage door, he could see a large, dark vehicle. Stalder had told him they kept a Mercedes-Benz SUV up here to use on the property. That would be it. But Stalder had also told him his wife's car, an Audi sedan was missing and he assumed the daughter had taken it. So...if the daughter and her boyfriend were here, there would have to be a second vehicle parked in the other garage bay. Or somewhere nearby. But he couldn't see any evidence of another vehicle. So who was here?

Rory reached across to the glove box, dropped the door and took his Baby Eagle pistol from the shoulder holster inside. Slipping his 6-foot-two inch athletic frame out of the SUV, Rory knelt beside the vehicle, listening. The day was warm and birds chirped happily off in the trees. Moving low across the grass, he looked for some sign of a vehicle pushed into the trees somewhere around the property to hide it. But there was no sign of any tracks or bent or broken branches he could see. Reaching the left edge of the log cottage, Rory could see someone wet had moved to the side of the building and then headed towards the back. Staying low and below the window line, Rory moved cautiously towards the back, weapon up and ready. It was probably some vagrant looking for food and shelter but his old Canadian army training told him you always had to be ready for anything.

Reaching the back edge of the building, Rory knelt on one knee. There was still no evidence of a vehicle hidden in the tree line at the back on the far side of the huge swimming pool. There were a number of chairs and umbrella on this side of the pool as well as a BBQ island and outdoor fireplace. And on the angel stone surface were wet footprints heading to the back door. Slipping along the back, he stayed close to the wall of the building and soon saw someone had broken the glass in the back door. Checking the doorknob, he found the door was unlocked. Opening the door a crack, he listened. There were no sounds. Pulling the door open enough, he slipped through, closing it behind him quietly. Just above the smell of pine and redwood was the slight scent of rotting vegetation. Wet spots were faintly visible across the cork flooring. Moving low in the direction of the footprints, Rory checked behind furniture and inside a closet to clear any threat that might be hiding and waiting. Reaching the kitchen area off to the right, Rory heard a noise just down the hallway. It appeared to be coming from an open doorway up ahead on the right. Turning and taking a quick check in the kitchen, Rory felt safe enough to move ahead. Reaching the open doorway, he stood up and peered around the corner.

A woman was sitting on a chair in front of a desk and she was looking intently at something on a computer screen. In her hand was a can of beans and she dug into the can with a fork and shoveled a pile into her mouth. She was definitely hungry. And from the looks of her disheveled mess of blonde hair and yellow dress, she appeared homeless. But something told Rory she wasn't. The yellow dress and black shoes looked expensive and not that old. And from her profile, when she turned to take another forkful of beans, he could see she was beautiful and there was evidence of mascara streaks under her eyes. Not many homeless women dressed like that or put on expensive mascara when you woke up in your cardboard box bedroom.

Rory went on alert as the woman straightened in her chair. She put the back of her hand against her mouth, holding in a small cry of shock. With her full attention on the screen, it gave him his chance. Holding the pistol with the barrel up, Rory slipped into the room and moved towards her.

The woman must have seen his reflection on the computer screen because she whirled around in the swivel chair, tossing the can of beans backhanded, threw the fork and then kicked out with a yell.

Rory moved to the left, letting the can fly past. The fork bounced off his shoulder. Reaching down with his left, he caught her ankle in the air. He pulled hard and the woman flailed wildly, spreading her arms and her legs wide apart, fighting hard to maintain her balance and her spot on the chair.

But she couldn't and the woman was yanked off her perch. The chair tipped over on her as she landed hard on her back and hitting the back of her head on the floor. Her legs were high in the air and the yellow dress slipped high up her legs as she grunted in pain, her hands holding the back of her head.

Grabbing the bottom of the chair, Rory pulled it out of the way, reached down and flipped the woman over onto her stomach. Setting his handgun on the desk, he quickly pulled a set of plastic handcuffs he carried from a side pocket, forcefully pulled the still-stunned woman's hands together and zipped the white material tight around her wrists.

The woman swore at him and tried to free herself.

Pulling her dress down, Rory then grabbed an elbow and said, "Sorry about that. Why don't we get you back on your feet?"

Pulling a knee under her, the woman managed to stand with Rory's help, still spitting expletives at him.

Rory checked the yellow dress for pockets and then set the chair upright again and pulled it over, "Sit."

The woman sat down hard, angry and sullen, "No touching the merchandise."

"I just touched your hips lightly. I can't chance you having a weapon you can use," Rory countered. Picking up the handgun from the desk, he looked at the computer screen. His eyebrows rose at what he saw. Looking at the woman he said, "That looks like you on there."

The woman's demeanor changed. A worried look swept across her face and she said, "I didn't do it. Honest, you have to believe me."