Hidden Page 3

Luna scrunched up her nose. “What if our group goes together?”

  “I don’t want to break protocol. I’ll go with you and get someone from another group to track our grid.” He pulled out his phone and pinged a lead tracker in the closest group.

  “Ray? Send one of your people over to me.”

  Within a few short minutes, a local librarian joined Luna and Gaines’s group. Gaines handed the tablet to one of the remaining people. “We’re going to check out another area. Should take us about an hour. I have my cell phone. Just hit the button that says GAINES on the upper-right corner of the tablet, and I’ll answer. Everyone OK with this?” Nods and mumbles went around.

  “Thank you for indulging me,” Luna said in a hushed voice, as they moved quickly across the small open field that had once been a sheep farm. She stopped suddenly and pointed. “Over there.” It was a thick grove of oak trees. She started calling Avery’s name. Wiley let out short whoops. Luna stopped again. “This way.” They moved through the thicket of trees when Gaines spotted a large felled oak. Must have been over a hundred years old. Gaines spotted something pink among the dead branches and the hollowed-out trunk that was resting horizontally on the ground. The three ran swiftly to the spot, praying it would be Avery, alive and unharmed. Gaines and Luna were calling her name as Wiley barked and yelped. The pink object moved slightly as the trio got closer. Gaines moved a large branch out of the way. The little girl’s eyes fluttered, then shut again.

  “Easy does it.” With Luna’s help, Gaines kept moving the branches.

  “Avery? Honey? Can you hear me?” Luna said tenderly. A moan came from the child. They moved the debris as fast as possible, Wiley barking them on. Gaines knelt next to the tree trunk and began removing the leaves covering most of the little girl’s face.

  “Avery? I’m a policeman.” Gaines wanted her to understand he was one of the good guys. He doubted a three-year-old would know what a U.S. marshal was, but he showed her his badge anyway.

  “Mama,” the girl whispered.

  “Yes, honey. We’re going to get your mama, but first we have to get you out of this tree. OK?” Gaines said reassuringly. He checked her for fractures, cuts, and bruises before trying to move her. There were a few superficial lacerations, probably sustained while stumbling through the woods.

  How Avery got wedged inside the oak was a good question, but at that moment, they needed to get her to safety. Gaines pulled out his mobile phone and hit a speed-dial button. “We’ve got her. She’s conscious but slightly dazed. A few cuts and bruises. She seems to be breathing normally and is asking for her mother.” He listened for a moment. “Roger that.”

  Luna immediately whipped off her bandana, poured some of the bottled water on it, and began to clean Avery’s face. “You OK, sweetie?”

  “I want my mama.” Tears rolled down her face. And then Luna’s face. Luna could have sworn she saw Gaines’s eyes well up, too.

  About eight minutes later, a medevac helicopter landed in the small field. Two EMS attendants ran toward the thicket with a stretcher.

  “Hey, how would you like to go for a helicopter ride?” Gaines smiled at the little girl.

  “Mommy?” she squeaked. “Where’s Bunny?” she gabbled.

  “We’re going to get her. OK?” Gaines reassured her. He furrowed his brow and mouthed, “Bunny?”

  Luna shrugged, kept wiping Avery’s brow, and murmured, “Who is Bunny, sweetie?”

  The little girl could barely whisper. “The bunny. I lost bunny.” Then she closed her eyes and began to doze off.

  Once they secured Avery in the helicopter, it rose slowly and took off for the nearest hospital. Gaines was on his phone giving updates to the base. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Minnie, you know what to do. We should be back at the base in about thirty minutes.” He could hear Minnie on her walkie-talkie spreading the good news to the others. Gaines could hear cheers and hoots in the background.

  On the walk back, Gaines put his hand on Luna’s shoulder. “How did you know?” He looked at her in amazement.

  “I wish I could tell you how.” Luna shrugged and smiled. “It’s a gift.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “So you’re not going to say it was a wild and lucky guess?” Luna gave him an affectionate elbow jab, which she regretted immediately. What was I thinking?

  “Nope. I’ll take whatever help I can get. And Wiley did a great job, too. Didn’t you, boy?” Wiley kept trotting ahead, proudly wagging his tail.

  By the time they arrived at the base, there was already a news van waiting to interview the search team. Shoving a microphone into Gaines’s face, the reporter fired off questions.

  “Was she hurt? Was she assaulted? How did she get here?”

  “I’ll take your questions in the tent. Excuse me.” Gaines pushed past the gathering crowd. He looked at Luna. “Follow me.”

  “Oh, wait.” She stopped abruptly. “I’d rather we keep my ‘lucky guess’ between us. I do a lot of work with children’s services. Don’t need the publicity. Just say we found her. Please. Is that all right with you?”

  “Are you sure? How about Wiley? Can he get some of the credit?”

  “Wiley? Absolutely! Just leave me out of it.” Luna gave his arm a squeeze. Again with the physical contact. She was mortified.

  He patted her hand. “Your secret is safe with me. Although I don’t know if I can leave it out of the official report.”

  “You seem like a pretty smart guy. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She was hoping for a dinner invitation, never mind the official report.

  Gaines chuckled. “I’m sure I will.” He paused. “I’ll be heading back to Charlotte in the morning.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her his card. “If you are ever in the neighborhood . . .”

  Luna took the card. “Thanks. You never know.”

  “I have your contact information, so if I’m ever in the neighborhood, I’ll give you a shout. Thanks for being so assertive. And accurate.” Gaines bent down to give Wiley a good head rub. “And thank you, too, Wiley.” He gave her a short salute and began answering questions. “We don’t know how she got into the woods. We found no wounds except for a few scrapes. From what we could tell, she simply wandered away and got lost.”

  Luna heaved a big sigh. Maybe I will be in Charlotte one day.

  After many phone calls and much television coverage, they learned that Avery had spotted a rabbit in the yard and managed to crawl under a ridiculously small hole in the ground under the fence. She had followed the rabbit into the woods and lost her way. The doctors said she was suffering from some exposure but was going to be fine and could be released in a day or two.

  The next morning, Luna went to the hospital to check on Avery’s condition. On her way there, she stopped at a local children’s store and bought a plush bunny for Avery. As she pulled into the parking lot, she spotted Gaines carrying what looked like a stuffed animal. She got goose bumps. Good-looking, smart, and sensitive. Definitely crushworthy material. She looked at herself in the visor mirror. Wish I had primped a little more. Oh well. What you see is what you get . . . even stuff you don’t see. She smirked. She decided to give Gaines a head start to the pediatric floor. Not simply out of courtesy, but her legs were betraying her again, turning to rubber. She hoped a few minutes would help restore her nerves.

  When she arrived at Avery’s room, the little girl was surrounded by balloons and her doting parents. They were overwrought that something like this could happen but also very thankful she was safe.

  Luna stood tall, pushed her shoulders back, and entered the room. “Hi, Avery. Remember me?” She handed the pink-and-white rabbit to the little girl.

  Avery looked up with a sweet smile. “Uh-huh.”

  Her mother was clinging to a wadded-up tissue. “Thank you so much for helping with the search. I don’t know what I would have done if anything . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she broke down in tears. Avery’s father put his arm around hi
s wife.

  “We’re all OK, hon. We’re all OK.” He introduced himself and thanked Luna for her participation.

  “It was my dog Wiley. He has a thing for kids,” Luna said modestly. “And, of course, the leadership of Marshal Gaines.” Oh my God. Am I flirting? She tried to look away but noticed a slight blush on Gaines’s face. Concerned she was about to make a total fool of herself, she quickly added, “I’m so glad everything turned out well. I have to get to work. You take care now. And no more chasing bunnies. OK? Now you have two!” She nodded at the one Gaines had set down on the bed.

  A meek little voice thanked her, and Avery’s parents gave Luna a big hug. She nodded at Gaines. “Have a safe trip home.”

  On the way out, she bit the inside of her lip, wondering if she had imagined the chemistry between them. I guess I’ll find out eventually. If I’m ever “in the neighborhood.”

  * * *

  Several months later, while she was still working for children’s services, she got a call at work. It was U.S. Marshal Gaines. He wanted to pick her brain over another missing-person case. She was delighted to help. He asked if she could come to Charlotte to sit in for an interview with the siblings of a young man who had gone missing. “We’ll pay you, of course, and for your stay at a hotel.”

  Luna was taken aback. “Pay me?”

  “Yes, as in paying for your time. Do you have a daily fee?”

  Luna quickly tried to calculate her pay for two days, plus the two readings she had scheduled. The total came to $150 per day plus $100 for each reading she would have to reschedule. Should she charge them for that? She would eventually get paid when she did the readings.

  “Luna? You still with me?”

  “Oh yes. Sorry, someone popped their head into my office.”

  “Would five hundred dollars for the two days plus hotel and meals be amenable?” Gaines asked, wanting to get this settled ASAP.

  “Let me check my schedule. I’m assuming you want me there tomorrow or the day after?”

  “The sooner the better. The brother has been missing for a week. And the longer the disappearance lasts, the less likely we are to find him. The siblings think he may have been abducted, but there have been no ransom requests as yet.”

  “Got it. Hang on a minute?” she asked. Luna put him on hold and dashed into her supervisor’s office. “Chaz? It’s the U.S. Marshals Service.”

  Her rumpled boss looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. “What have you done now?” He was half joking.

  “They want me to go to Charlotte tomorrow to sit in on an interview. A missing high school kid.”

  “What do they need you for?” he snarled.

  “Maybe because I helped with the Avery case? I’m not totally sure. I only have two appointments tomorrow, and I can reschedule them.” She wanted to get on her knees and plead.

  He plunked the glasses off the edge of his nose. “Yeah. OK. But don’t make a habit of it.”

  “Thanks, boss.” She wanted to kiss him. Not really.

  “Get Gladys to take your appointments. If anything seems off with either of them, you can discuss it with Gladys when you get back.”

  “Thanks again.” Luna spun around, her long skirt swirling like a whirlpool.

  * * *

  Over the next two years, Luna worked with Gaines on several cases. They developed a casual friendship, but the chemistry was always there in the background. One night after dinner, they ended up walking extremely close to each other. She could smell the hint of aftershave and feel the heat from his breath. It was all she could do to remain vertical and not swoon. For a very brief moment, she thought, hoped, he would kiss her. But he didn’t. Maybe that’s what they meant by “professional courtesy.”

  During the few times they were together, they shared a little bit of personal information. He was thirty-nine, two years older than Cullen. Divorced with a ten-year-old son. No serious relationship. He didn’t have time. It was one of the reasons he was divorced. But Luna knew one day she would have to put on her big-girl pants and make a pass at him before he got involved with someone. The thought of both of those things made her cringe, making a fool of herself for trying or being a fool for not.

  Chapter Three

  Buncombe County, North Carolina

  Ellie Stillwell would be considered a dowager by some, but much of her wealth came from her own family. The origin of her wealth was something she kept under her red hat. In the late 1950s, North Carolina had begun to focus on economic development, which had the effect of increasing the value of land as it became more scarce and developers were willing to pay more for it. Her family had purchased large parcels, mainly to assure themselves that they would have a say as to how the land was developed. Part of her family’s estate was a large tract situated several miles from the downtown area of Asheville, North Carolina. No one had thought much of that parcel until Ellie secured a permit to build an art center on it. Some local politicians were adamantly opposed, complaining that it would mar the countryside. The center was to sit on fifty acres within a larger section of one square mile. Though most people in the area thought of it as farm country, there hadn’t been a farm on the property since the end of the Second World War. But Ellie was on a mission.

  She thought the land was going to waste. She also thought all the government cuts in funding for the arts was a crying shame. Too much talent and not enough support. Her goal was to build a dedicated area for the arts.

  She was inspired by the Torpedo Factory Art Center in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. In November of 1918, the U.S. Navy began construction of the factory on the banks of the Potomac River for the production of torpedoes. Over the years, the building had had many incarnations, ranging from a manufacturing plant to a storehouse for government documents.

  In 1973, the building was purchased by the Art League; it was renovated in 1982. At present it housed the largest collection of working artists and studios to be found under one roof. Ellie liked that idea very much. She was also partial to certain antiques and wanted a designated space for them. But she didn’t want it to be a mishmash of things that looked like someone’s garage sale. No, this was going to be a new, clean, bright space for artists to unleash their creativity and sell their work.

  In the beginning, a handful of local community members took her to court to try to stop what they deemed would turn open land into commercial, industrial space. What’s wrong with these people? she wondered. Ellie enlisted the talent of a local architect to design the space with an ambience similar to that of the Torpedo Factory Art Center. The lower level would have an interior courtyard with an atrium feel, surrounded by workshops.

  Ellie was also a staunch supporter of the environment. The entire building was planned to be eco-friendly, using solar energy to power the entire building. She took every measure to assure the county that this would be something they could be proud of and which would encourage other communities across the country to support the arts. And the environment. She knew intuitively that she was doing the right thing. When she submitted the plans to the county board, they could not find a single reason to stop her from going forward with the project.

  The two-story building included skywalks connecting the various sections, anchored in the center by a staircase. The ceiling would have skylights, giving the interior a sense of openness and space. The natural light was ideal for the interior landscaping created by a local landscape artist.

  When complete, the building itself boasted fifty thousand square feet and an outdoor Belgian-block patio. It was surrounded by several acres of landscaped greenery and open space. Three sides of the first floor were devoted to workshops and art studios facing inward toward the courtyard. Each had glass sliding doors to offer the most exposure and allow for secure closing overnight. The fourth side consisted of specialty shops selling food items and straddled each side of the large folding doors leading to the patio.

  There was a spot for artisanal cheeses and a café that
served and sold specialty teas and coffees. Another sold baked goods. There was a shop selling handmade ice cream, a gourmet sandwich shop, and a wine cellar. Not wanting to deal with kitchen issues, and to minimize her interactions with the Board of Health, all food was brought in freshly prepared, daily. It was a grab-and-go style. Patrons had the option of grabbing something on their way out or sitting at one of the small café tables dotting the interior courtyard. The outside courtyard also held several tables with umbrellas for al fresco dining, weather permitting.

  Ellie wanted the center to be a destination, a place where you could bring the family for an inspiring day, a good sandwich, and a great cup of coffee. In the evening, art events could make use of the wine cellar, and she would rent out the space for private parties and musical events. She viewed the center as a new location for community functions as well as a place to support the arts. All of them.

  The second floor concentrated on vintage stores, each with a theme, including Christmas items, collectible dolls, perfume bottles, nautical merchandise, neon signs, and vintage handbags.

  Ellie was also cognizant of artists’ fluctuating incomes. She knew the money wasn’t much and not consistent. In the spirit of fairness, rent would be a small percentage of their monthly sales. It was somewhat of an honor system since many of the tenants dealt in cash, but Ellie had faith in the better part of human nature.

  The Stillwell Art Center was going to be Ellie’s legacy. She hoped at some point it could become a co-op, where the artists each had a stake in the upkeep, but when or if that happened, she would bequeath it as part of her estate.

  The center had been two years in the making, and during that time she had scrutinized every applicant who wanted a space in the building. She had a glassblower in the front corner and a pottery thrower in another. In the far corner was the quirky man who made pieces of sculpture out of cut-up beer cans. Across from him, a brother-and-sister team had a restoration business adjacent to the café. By the time of the grand opening, the Stillwell Art Center was home to over thirty artists and vintage shops and a half dozen food vendors.