Black Canyon Conspiracy. Cindi Myers

messy emotions the rest of us mortals have to deal with,” Rand said.

      “I don’t have time for them.” Those “messy emotions” brought complications and distractions he didn’t want or need. He turned back to the view of Prentice’s castle. “We have a job to do.”

      Rand stiffened and put a hand on the pistol at his side. “What’s that noise?”

      The low whine, like the humming of a large mosquito, grew louder. Marco looked around, then up, and spotted what at first looked like a toy plane or one of those radio-controlled aircraft hobbyists flew. “I think it’s a drone,” he said as the craft hovered over them.

      Rand scowled at the intruder. “Is it armed?”

      “No, but I think it’s spotted us.”

      “The captain said Prentice had one of these. What do you think it’s doing?”

      Marco trained the binoculars on the craft. “It looks as if there’s a camera attached to the underside, so I’d say it’s taking pictures.”

      “Pictures of what?”

      “Of us. Evidence that we’re harassing the poor little rich guy.”

      “Nothing wrong with being rich.” Rand gave a big, cheesy smile and waved up at the drone.

      Marco lowered the binoculars, resisting the urge to make an obscene gesture at the camera. “No, but there’s a lot wrong with being a jerk.” And a jerk who used a beautiful, vulnerable woman in his sick games had to be stopped.

       Chapter Five

      The low-slung cedar and stone buildings of the Dayspring Wellness Center looked more like an exclusive vacation resort than a medical facility. Fountains and flowers dotted the lavish landscaping, and the few people Lauren and Sophie saw once they’d left their car in the parking lot were tanned and casually dressed as if on their way to a tennis game or setting out to hike in the nearby hills.

      “Maybe we should look into checking in here,” Sophie said as they made their way up a paved walkway lined with brilliant blooming flowers. “This is way nicer than our apartment. And we wouldn’t have to cook or clean.”

      Lauren stopped before a signpost with markers pointing toward the dining room, gym, pool and treatment rooms. “This all must cost a fortune.”

      “Then, how is Phil paying for it? Wasn’t he hassling you for money before you disappeared?”

      “He wanted me to increase his support payments.” Because Lauren had earned more money than Phil, an actor with a small theater company, the court had ordered her to pay him support after their divorce. “But I haven’t given him any money in months.” While Prentice had held her captive, she hadn’t had access to her bank accounts, then she hadn’t been working, recovering from her ordeal. Now that she’d been fired, no telling when she’d be able to pay him.

      Then again, not having access to her money had forced him to admit that his drug habit had gotten out of hand, and he had to seek help. When the Rangers had questioned him about her disappearance, he’d been living in a fleabag motel on the edge of town. “Maybe his girlfriend came into money.” When they’d divorced, Phil had been seeing an actress he worked with.

      “Maybe Richard Prentice is footing the bill,” Sophie said. “In exchange for a few ‘favors.’”

      “I don’t know.”

      They headed to a building marked Welcome Center. “We’re here to see Phillip Starling,” Lauren said.

      The receptionist consulted her computer. “He’s in Pod A.” She indicated a map on the desk in front of her. “Follow this walkway around back and you’ll see the groups of cottages are labeled. He’s probably in the courtyard. We encourage our guests to spend as much time as possible out of doors, enjoying nature.”

      Lauren thanked her and they headed down the walk she’d indicated. “What’s the difference between a patient and a guest?” Lauren asked.

      “Maybe a couple thousand dollars a day?” Sophie guessed.

      They found Pod A and walked under a stone archway into a courtyard with padded loungers and shaded tables arranged around a gurgling fountain. Phil, his back to them, sat at one of the tables, talking with a young woman who stood beside a cart next to the table.

      As Lauren and Sophie drew nearer, the woman laughed and playfully swatted Phil’s shoulder. “You are so bad,” she chided.

      “Come back after you get off and I’ll show you how bad—and how good—I can be,” he said.

      She laughed again, then saw the two women. “I’d better go,” she said, and rolled her cart away.

      “Hello, Phil,” Lauren said.

      He turned toward her and arched one eyebrow. “You’re about the last person I expected to see here.”

      Hair cut, clean shaven and wearing a polo shirt and pressed khakis, he looked much better than the last time she’d seen him. He had a tan and had put on a few pounds. Her ex-husband was definitely handsome. She waited for the catch in her throat that always happened when she saw him again after time apart, and was relieved when it didn’t come. Maybe she was finally getting over him. “You’re looking good,” she said.

      “You, too.” He stood and kissed her cheek, and nodded to her sister. “Hello, Sophie.”

      “Hello, Phil.” Her greeting was cool; Sophie had never liked Phil, and when he’d left Lauren for another woman she’d stopped trying to hide her disdain.

      “What brings you two here?” he asked. “Did you miss me?”

      “We wanted to talk to you about Richard Prentice,” Lauren said. No sense being coy.

      Some of the cheerfulness went out of his eyes, replaced by edgy caution. “What about him?”

      “The grand jury refused to indict him on charges of kidnapping,” Sophie said.

      Phil’s surprise seemed genuine. “They think he didn’t do it?”

      “Apparently, he persuaded them I made up the whole story,” Lauren said.

      “That’s too bad,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

      “Oh, please.” Sophie folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Your comments in the paper—calling Prentice your good friend and practically accusing Lauren of being delusional—didn’t help matters any.”

      “You know how the press can be,” he said. “Always taking things out of context.”

      “Did Prentice pay you to say those things about me?” Lauren asked.

      “Is that what you think?” He put his hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to shrug him off. “Lauren, honey, I know this is hard for you to hear, but you have to admit that the last few months we were together, you were pretty out there. Not yourself.”

      “Neither of us was at our best then,” she said.

      “Maybe so. But at least I didn’t suddenly decide to redecorate the whole condo and stay up for two nights in a row ripping out tile and moving furniture, only to abandon the project half-done two days later and start looking at new places instead. And what about the time you bought all that expensive cookware and enrolled in an Italian cooking course? You gave one dinner party, then almost never went into the kitchen again.”

      Lauren did move away from him then. “None of those things hurt anyone,” she said.

      “They’re not normal, Lauren. All I wanted was a normal marriage. A normal life.”

      “So that’s why you became a drug addict,” Sophie