“Oh ... no. I’m not going to be roomies with a bunch of cuckoo birds.”
“Please don’t call them that. As I said, they’re lost souls,” Liam continued. “The property has several outbuildings. Kind of like sheds. If they start on those, they could live outside the main house.”
Noah furrowed his brow. “Are you trying to tell me you want to start some kind of ashram? With those weird tents and patchouli incense burning everywhere? What do you call those things exactly?”
“They’re called yurts. And no. Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?” Noah prodded.
Liam motioned for them to sit down. “I have a vision.”
“Swell.” Noah groaned. “Not one of those again.”
“Hey, remember when we were going to old man Coulson’s, and I stopped you in the hallway and said I had a feeling something was off? And you accused me of having a ‘woo-woo’ moment?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this isn’t one of them. A woo-woo moment, that is. Then again, maybe it is. Listen ...” Liam proceeded to explain his vision for the property and a nonprofit sanctuary retreat.
The word nonprofit did not sit well with Noah—until Liam explained his idea further.
Chapter Five
Present Day
Washington, D. C.
Maggie used one of her chewed-up fingers to punch in the speed-dial number for Annie’s cell phone. “Don’t tell me the food truck ran out of hot dogs,” Annie teased. Maggie was known for her voracious appetite. It was a wonder that she managed to stay in shape. “Are you biting your nails again?”
Maggie pulled her hand away from her mouth, looking to see if Annie was in her doorway. “Uh ... um ... well, yeah. But I have a good reason,” she half defended herself.
“What’s up?” Annie recognized the tone in Maggie’s voice.
Something was bothering her. Bothering her in a big way.
“Are you in the building?”
“Yes. Why?” Annie could hear the concern in Maggie’s voice.
“Remember my college chum, Gabby Richardson?”
“Yes, the willowy, reserved blonde? Pretty girl.”
“That’s her.”
“What about her?” Annie queried.
“Can we talk in person? I need to do some more digging.”
“I’ll head over to your office. Give me ten.” Annie clicked off.
Maggie reviewed her notes. She racked her brain trying to remember the name of the place where Gabby was staying. She turned toward her computer and typed in spiritual retreats, South Florida. Over a dozen were listed. They included words like moonrise, wellness, spiritual, meditative. She tried another search: retreats, uniforms. There were dozens upon dozens of websites for clothing. Many of the shirts looked like what the flower lady described. Well, that narrows it down to every spa, yoga studio, retreat, and hotel in the Miami area. But it made sense. If the men were from the place where Gabby was staying, they would most likely be wearing that kind of garb.
She zeroed in on the most obvious sanctuaries when it hit her. The Haven. She added that to her notes as Annie walked through the door of Maggie’s paper-infested office. One spark could start a bonfire. As much as the mess bothered Annie, she knew Maggie was a crackerjack editor. She didn’t want to mess with Maggie’s “flow.”
“What’s going on?” Annie moved a few piles of folders and clippings to clear a place for her to sit.
Maggie jumped right in. “About an hour ago, I got a message on voice mail from Gabby. She was calling from a florist shop in Miami.”
Maggie dialed her voice mail and played the message to Annie.
“Play that again.” Annie moved closer to the desk phone.
“I called the florist, and Gabby was gone. She was picked up by two men in a black SUV. According to the woman I spoke to, Gabby didn’t put up a fight.”
“A missing ticket. Missing passport. It sounds like someone definitely didn’t want her to go anywhere.”
“Sure does. Then two men pick her up at a florist’s. I checked the distance from the airport to the flower shop. At least twenty minutes away. The creepy questions are, How did they find her and why were they after her?” Maggie filled Annie in with the rest of the information she had received from the woman on the phone. Then told her that she had discovered the name of the place. “It’s called The Haven.”
“Did you try calling them?” Annie asked, her wheels already turning.
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I thought I’d call under the guise that I was doing an article for our lifestyle section.”
“Unless those places are open to the public, like a spa, they don’t like people prying into their business.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “I think it’s private. The website doesn’t have a lot of information.”
“We should probably talk to Myra and Charles. Maybe Charles can get some intel on the place.”
“Excellent idea.” Maggie was starting to feel a sense of relief. If anyone could unravel this situation, it was the Sisterhood.
Annie pulled out her phone and pressed the button for Myra.
“Hello, darling.” Myra’s voice was clear and upbeat.
“Hello to you!” Even though the two women had shared breakfast only a few hours ago, each time they spoke on the phone, it was like long-lost friends speaking for the first time in ages. But that was the nature of their years of friendship. Loyalty. Support. Love. Affection.
“Everything all right?” Myra asked.
“Everything here is fine. Except for this mess of an office.” Annie shook her head as she glanced around the spillage of paper. Maggie rolled her eyes.
“You must be in Maggie’s office!” Myra laughed.
“Good guess!” Annie replied. “Do you recall meeting Maggie’s friend Gabby? The tall, pretty journalism intern we had here for a while?”
“Why yes. They went to school together, right?”
“They did.”
“So, what’s going on?”
“Maggie got a disturbing message from Gabby. She left it on Maggie’s office voice mail. She probably dialed in to the main toll-free number.” Annie put her phone on speaker. “Gabby has taken up residence at a spiritual retreat outside of Miami. We think she may be at a place called The Haven. I’ll let Maggie tell you the rest.”
Maggie continued to give Myra what little information she had managed to acquire. Gabby had become a resident at a spiritual retreat. She had been getting depressed about the state of the world and wanted to give journalism a rest. Several months into her stay at the retreat, she was planning to visit her mother. But when she got to the airport, her ticket was missing, as was her passport. When Maggie had finished her recap, she added, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Did you try to contact her through The Haven?” Myra asked.