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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.
