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Authors: Christy Barritt
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assumed he’d always stayed on the straight and narrow. He just seemed like the type to never wander off that path.
Oh yes, Riley and I were going to have to have a talk. There were more layers to that man than I’d guessed. In all of my investigations, there was one person whose background I’d never thought about looking into.
Thankfully, I had a lifetime to investigate this case.
CHAPTER 8
“Are you here for the tour, ma’am?”
I swung my head toward the concierge, a woman who was probably in her early thirties and wore her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, a look that didn’t in any way compliment the unflattering, standard-issue suit. She stood behind a desk with a granite-countertop that came to her chest and had numerous brochures neatly organized on top.
“The tour?”
She nodded. “Of Allendale. One of our historians will walk you through the property and explain the historical significance of each section of the building. Most find it enlightening.”
The tour sounded downright boring to me. But maybe it would give me some insight to the place and wouldn’t look as weird as me wandering around aimlessly. “I’d love to go.”
A group of seven other people joined us at the desk. Then a man with a monocle and a tweed suit called for our attention. A monocle? I had no idea people used those anymore. All he needed was a pipe and he’d fit my every stereotype of the type of person who frequented places like this.
“I’m Jefferson Willis.” He tugged at his jacket lapel and addressed everyone pensively. “My family has worked at Allendale for three generations. It’s my pleasure to guide you through our wonderful facilities.”
We began our tour at a brisk pace. The guide rambled about how more than one-hundred years ago a man named James Allen, who’d at one time owned a coal mine, had forever changed the fate of Healthy Springs when he opened a resort here that soon became a playground for the rich.
The resort fell into some hard times around the Great Depression, and the family lost ownership. Twenty years ago, it was sold to some big corporation who still owned it to this day. The Allens, however, like many other families, still worked here at the resort.
The natural springs were said to have healing properties that lured the “who’s who” of the world here. Presidents had campaigned from the porch. Generals had taken breaks from battles in the springs. The rich had bought rooms so they could stay year-round. Blah, blah, blah.
We passed ballrooms, one of the original horse and buggies that had carried dignitaries, and shrines with pictures of the place when it had first begun.
My mind was not on anything the historian was saying, though.
No, my thoughts were on Jackie-O.
For her to have been kidnapped here, only hours after arriving, someone would have to plan very carefully. The kidnapper would have had to know about this trip, when Jackie was arriving, that she’d go hiking, and that she’d go hiking alone.
They’d had to know that no one was in her room when they ventured inside to leave the ransom note.
They’d had to know that she was loaded and that one day’s time was adequate for getting a large amount of cash like the ransom had demanded.
There were a lot of variables in that scenario that could have easily gone wrong , I mused as we started upstairs, passing some of the guest suites.
What had Riley said? That Jackie was an Assistant District Attorney. She was the one who put the bad guys behind bars. Had someone she’d put behind bars been stalking her, waiting for just the right minute to exact their revenge? Perhaps her abductor was someone who wanted to teach the family a lesson?
I shook my head. Something just didn’t seem quite right about the situation to me.
What if one of Riley’s old law school buddies was somehow involved in this whole fiasco? Lane had been engaged to her. What if he didn’t like seeing her with
Oh yes, Riley and I were going to have to have a talk. There were more layers to that man than I’d guessed. In all of my investigations, there was one person whose background I’d never thought about looking into.
Thankfully, I had a lifetime to investigate this case.
CHAPTER 8
“Are you here for the tour, ma’am?”
I swung my head toward the concierge, a woman who was probably in her early thirties and wore her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, a look that didn’t in any way compliment the unflattering, standard-issue suit. She stood behind a desk with a granite-countertop that came to her chest and had numerous brochures neatly organized on top.
“The tour?”
She nodded. “Of Allendale. One of our historians will walk you through the property and explain the historical significance of each section of the building. Most find it enlightening.”
The tour sounded downright boring to me. But maybe it would give me some insight to the place and wouldn’t look as weird as me wandering around aimlessly. “I’d love to go.”
A group of seven other people joined us at the desk. Then a man with a monocle and a tweed suit called for our attention. A monocle? I had no idea people used those anymore. All he needed was a pipe and he’d fit my every stereotype of the type of person who frequented places like this.
“I’m Jefferson Willis.” He tugged at his jacket lapel and addressed everyone pensively. “My family has worked at Allendale for three generations. It’s my pleasure to guide you through our wonderful facilities.”
We began our tour at a brisk pace. The guide rambled about how more than one-hundred years ago a man named James Allen, who’d at one time owned a coal mine, had forever changed the fate of Healthy Springs when he opened a resort here that soon became a playground for the rich.
The resort fell into some hard times around the Great Depression, and the family lost ownership. Twenty years ago, it was sold to some big corporation who still owned it to this day. The Allens, however, like many other families, still worked here at the resort.
The natural springs were said to have healing properties that lured the “who’s who” of the world here. Presidents had campaigned from the porch. Generals had taken breaks from battles in the springs. The rich had bought rooms so they could stay year-round. Blah, blah, blah.
We passed ballrooms, one of the original horse and buggies that had carried dignitaries, and shrines with pictures of the place when it had first begun.
My mind was not on anything the historian was saying, though.
No, my thoughts were on Jackie-O.
For her to have been kidnapped here, only hours after arriving, someone would have to plan very carefully. The kidnapper would have had to know about this trip, when Jackie was arriving, that she’d go hiking, and that she’d go hiking alone.
They’d had to know that no one was in her room when they ventured inside to leave the ransom note.
They’d had to know that she was loaded and that one day’s time was adequate for getting a large amount of cash like the ransom had demanded.
There were a lot of variables in that scenario that could have easily gone wrong , I mused as we started upstairs, passing some of the guest suites.
What had Riley said? That Jackie was an Assistant District Attorney. She was the one who put the bad guys behind bars. Had someone she’d put behind bars been stalking her, waiting for just the right minute to exact their revenge? Perhaps her abductor was someone who wanted to teach the family a lesson?
I shook my head. Something just didn’t seem quite right about the situation to me.
What if one of Riley’s old law school buddies was somehow involved in this whole fiasco? Lane had been engaged to her. What if he didn’t like seeing her with
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