The Caspian Wine Mystery/Suspense/Thriller Series Read online

  The Caspian Wine

  Suspense/Thriller/Mystery Series

  First Edition: Published 2018

  These books are a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locales or events is entirely coincidental. Any references to real events, business, organizations or locales are intended to only give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity.

  ©Copyright Glenna Mageau (2018)

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by: Quadessence Solutions

  Cover Design ©2018 Laura Callender (Just Publish It)

  Editing: Patricia Terrell (P.I.S.C.E.S.)

  ISBN: 9781775269809

  This ebook series is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles, interviews, and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Gerry, Jazmine and Zackary, you are my rock and my wings. To my sisters who continually inspire me. To my friends, thank you for being a part of my journey.

  To my readers - for your endless support, your honesty, your encouragement but most of all for your love of reading. You’re the reason I continue to write suspense/thrillers.

  I absolutely love this journey I’m on and couldn’t do it without any one of you. Thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Captured Lies -Book One

  Deceitful Truths – Book Two

  Split Seconds – Book Three

  Thank you

  The Caspian Wine Suspense/Thriller/Mystery Series

  Other novels by Maggie Thom

  Acknowledgments

  About Maggie Thom

  Captured Lies

  Caspian Wine Suspense/Thriller/Mystery Series

  Book One

  By

  Maggie Thom

  She was kidnapped not once but twice and now someone wants her dead because of it...

  Her life was a lie!

  Bailey knew her upbringing wasn’t normal but she’s worked hard to stabilize her life. At 29, she finally has a good business, a stable home; her life is miles from that of her childhood. Then suddenly her mother dies, leaving a gaping hole and a discovery that they may not even be related. If Guy, the private investigator is to be believed, her life is a lie. Using the skills, she learned on the streets, Bailey travels back through a sketchy and dangerous past, to find answers. Dodging bullets, staying ahead of those who want her dead and convincing Guy she can do it alone, are making it difficult to discover not only the secrets of her mother’s past, but that of a family claiming she is theirs.

  Everyone seems to have a story... but who’s telling the truth? And who wants her dead? Is Guy part of the solution? Or part of the problem? To discover the facts, she’ll have to untangle a web of deceit, lies and secrets, dating back over thirty years.

  But can she do it in time...

  "First, I have to say that this was one of the most exciting and heart stopping stories I have read in years. I think this author is fabulous. I could not believe how well this book was written..." LAS Reviews

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  CHAPTER ONE

  From the Toronto Star, Saturday, February 14, 1983

  Two-day-old Cassidy Jane Lefevre was stolen from Gracefield Hospital, snatched from the nursery between 1:00 and 3:00 a.m. The hospital is cooperating with the official investigation. Cassidy’s parents, Bottle-Up magnates Gina and Daniel Lefevre, are devastated at the loss of their first child. Five million dollars is offered for the return of their baby. There are no suspects but there are a few people of interest, including a missing nurse. In the past year, four newborns have been abducted from hospitals in Quebec and Ontario. Is there a black market?

  Mary scanned the rest of the five-month-old article. It sounded so ugly. Some people were so desperate for a baby they didn’t know where else to turn. Kids deserved parents who’d love them, not keep them as prizes. Rich people were all the same.

  “Excuse me. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

  Mary looked blankly at the stewardess. “Something to drink... oh... no... No. I’m fine, thank you.” Mary folded the clipping and stuffed it in the brown envelope she’d propped beside her hip, shuffling the baby to her other arm.

  “She sure is cute.” Smiling, the stewardess tilted her head and clicked her tongue.

  “Well, thank you. I think she is too. She’s a beauty. My best... g-grandchild yet.” Mary looked down at the baby sleeping in her arms and then back at the stewardess. She beamed at her. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing to say so? Thank you. It means a lot when others notice what I think is true.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Mary’s hand shook as she patted her carefully coiffed, dull gray hair. Her scalp itched but she didn’t dare scratch. The wig would no doubt shift, so she restrained herself, glad the charade was almost over. “C-candy.”

  “Ooohhh. Sweet.”

  “How about you? Do you have kids?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Why, I bet you’d be the best mom ever. It would sure be the cutest tyke too. You with your blonde hair and blue eyes.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned at Mary before shifting her gaze to wink at the baby. “Sorry but I’ve got to keep moving. Excuse me.”

  The stewardess’ eyes darted from Mary to the man beside her. Mary leaned on the armrest between them, closing the distance. His head whipped around to stare at her, his shoulder bumping her cheek. She smiled indulgently at him before shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. The stewardess nodded in acknowledgement, rolling her eyes as if saying, “Men.”

  Mary took a deep calming breath, reminding herself that this was almost over.

  As soon as the attendant moved off, aski
ng others what they wanted, Mary sat upright. She looked around. Her gaze met a pair of blinking, owlish green eyes, partially hidden by streaky lenses that looked as thick as the bottom of a bottle. She pursed her lips as she frowned at her seatmate. He nervously pushed up his glasses before sticking his nose into the stack of papers in his hand. Rooting through the pages scattered over his tray and the empty seat on the other side of him, he was soon oblivious to her.

  Mary had been tempted to ask him to scoot over so she’d have more space for the baby but was glad she hadn’t. Better that people think they’re together. She almost reached out and rubbed the smudge of makeup she’d left on the shoulder of his blue shirt. Absently, she gently patted her hand over her face, hoping the wrinkles that had taken hours to make hadn’t been disturbed. Her pale face powder felt a bit creased, just like it was supposed to. She relaxed a tad.

  Mary shifted the baby to the side so she could reach under the seat in front of her. The infant cried out. “Hold on.” She snagged the diaper bag and stuffed the paper inside. “All right. All right. Do you have to wake up screaming all the time? Cripes, you’re worse than... my... youngest ever was. And man, could she scream.” She stifled a groan at her near-mistake. She’d be so glad when this pretend stuff was over. She grabbed the pacifier and plopped it into the baby’s mouth, who gave a mulish look before starting to suck on the rubber stopper with the suction of a vacuum.

  The plane jerked, hard. Mary clutched the baby to her chest as she whipped her head around in an attempt to see what was happening. The man beside her dropped his chest onto the tray table, arms splayed wide, securing all his paperwork. His bulging eyes met her glance.

  A voice came over the speaker. “We’re experiencing some turbulence. Everyone please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

  Mary looked out the window. Gray clouds, low-hanging and heavily laden, filled her view. Lightning streaked past, followed by a loud rumble. The plane jerked and shuddered.

  Passengers screamed and shouted. The stewardesses called out instructions as they raced down the aisle, checking on everyone. “Please remain calm. We’re going through some rough weather. Stay seated and ensure your seatbelts are secure. Put your tray tables in the upright position.” The instructions were issued so quickly they were almost incomprehensible.

  More booming and cracking shook the plane as though it was having a grand mal seizure. The aircraft dropped nose down. They were descending rapidly—too rapidly. The stewardesses swayed and scrabbled, grabbing seats, staggering as they lurched down the aisle toward the crew seats. The plane bucked as passengers screamed.

  Mary slammed forward, smacking her head on the seat in front of her. The baby shrieked with terror. Mary forced herself back, eyeing the infant in her arms. “Shh, baby. Shh. We’ll be all right.”

  Papers flew like frantic birds despite her seatmate’s attempt to catch and hold them. Ignoring him, she peered out the window at the sky, a blur of ominous black lit to gun-metal gray every now and then by flashes of lightning. She wasn’t sure what dropping out of the sky looked like but she figured this was it. It reminded her of a ride at the fair where the floor fell out from under her as she’d spun around in a drum. She’d taken that ride only once and only because she’d been teased into it. And the ride had been hell. She’d puked her guts out when she’d disembarked. Now the lurching of her stomach gave her the same sensation. She swallowed hard.

  The grubby passenger regarded her with a solemn gaze. “We’re going to die.” Another passenger had started to pray. Everyone seemed to realize in unison that their chances of survival were slim.

  “I’m going to go to hell. I know it.” Mary hugged the baby to her chest. “But you don’t have to go with me. I made a promise that I’d look after you. And I will.” She grabbed the diaper bag, unzipped it and threw its contents onto the floor. She stuffed the screaming infant into it.

  “Give me your blanket and pillow.” Mary elbowed the man beside her.

  He cocked his head.

  “Give me your blanket and pillow.”

  He continued to stare blankly at her.

  “Give me one of your books!”

  He jerked upright and grabbed one of his manuals from the seat on the other side of him, clutching it like a treasure.

  She ripped it out of his hands. He looked at her owlishly for a few seconds before again collapsing protectively over his papers, haphazardly spread over the lowered tray table.

  She looked down as tear-filled blue eyes met hers. The baby’s bottom lip was trembling. In the five months Mary had the baby she’d never before felt a tug in her heart. Amazed at what fear would do to her, she shook off the feeling. She hugged the diaper bag close against her well-padded belly, glad she was carrying some extra protection her taut stomach couldn’t provide. She curled herself around the crying infant and held the hardcover book in front, providing the most protection she could. Her arms were rigid, the muscles screaming in protest as nearly tornado-strength aerodynamic forces tried to pry the baby from her.

  “Mother of God, I hope you can hear me,” she silently prayed. “I know it’s been forever since we talked.” But what’s twenty-eight years between friends? So many occasions I should have prayed but I didn’t believe it would help. Fear crawled up her throat, choking her as she continued her prayer. “I know I’ve taken the wrong path—many times. But please don’t hurt this baby. She’s innocent. Something I haven’t been in a long time. Don’t hold that against her. Take me; keep her safe. She might actually have a chance to be something.”

  Screaming, yelling, fear, anger—the dashing of hopes and dreams. Prayers filled the cabin. The lights flickered. The engines howled like banshees in the darkness. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked. The plane convulsed violently.

  “Holy Mother of God. Holy Mother of God. Holy Mother of God.” Mary chanted in an endless stream. She wanted to recite a prayer but couldn’t remember any. The vision of a younger self flashed before her eyes, a young girl forced to spend hours locked away reciting prayers, the nuns convinced it was the only way she’d learn, yet none of it came back to her now.

  Mary kept her head tucked, refusing to let in to the temptation to stare out the window at the ground rapidly rushing up to meet them. “John. I’m sorry big brother. I screwed up... again. This is my fault.”

  The baby screamed and Mary vainly tried to comfort her.

  The cacophony of sounds stopped in an instant as a surreal blackness swallowed her like an insignificant minnow in the mouth of a whale.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Donna Saunders

  Born January 5, 1952

  Deceased April 21, 2012

  Bailey read the information one more time, wondering when life would again make sense. She looked up from the pamphlet clutched in her hand. “What do you mean, it’s all paid for?”

  “Miss Saunders, I know this is a trying time for you.” Mr. Summervold, the funeral director, patted her hand. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  Annoyed at his patronizing tone, Bailey leaned back in her chair, effectively removing her hand and herself from any contact with him. It was either that or lean forward and punch him. She definitely had the urge to hit something.

  She eyed him critically. His narrow jaw would crumple and his sleek nose would either lie over on his cheek or flatten like squished potatoes. She dropped her head into her open palms, allowing exhaustion to drag her toward the dark hole of sleep. The sound of a chair rolling on the hardwood floor yanked her back to reality. Her head jerked up and she thrust out her hand like a traffic cop. “I’m fine. Just give me some answers.”

  Long and lean, Mr. Sommervold had been in the act of standing. Now he reluctantly sat back down. “The funeral and burial are paid in full. You don’t have to worry about any of that. The ceremony will take place here at the gravesite tomorrow, Thursday, April 23. Everything is arranged. It’s all in there.” He waved a languid hand at the paper in her lap.

&n
bsp; Bailey’s hand shook as she looked at the picture of her mom. Her red hair stood out like a beacon and her ruby red lipstick was in complete contrast to the dye job. Her face was pale and her aqua eyes pinched as though full of pain. It’s not the picture she would have chosen but then there weren’t many to choose from. Her mom normally refused to let others take her picture. For Bailey’s graduation, she’d made an exception. Her present had been a picture of her mom in the backyard. She’d been happy, one of those rare moments. That’s the picture Bailey would have selected.

  “Everything has been taken care of.”

  “Where did this photo come from?”

  “You really should talk to Mr. Lund, your mother’s lawyer. He made all the arrangements.”

  Mr. Sommervold stood, his immaculate charcoal gray suit crisp as though he’d just put it on, though she knew he’d been in it for several hours already. The lady who’d met Bailey at the door had stated Mr. Sommervold started at 6:00 a.m. and was there most days until 6:00 p.m. Funeral directors didn’t get a day off. Death was always at their door.

  “But how?” Bailey got to her feet, stared at her clothes and brushed her hands down her wrinkled emerald-green dress. When did I put this on? She rubbed her finger over the faux silk material. Her mom had bought it for her four or five years before. I choose to wear it for the first time when you can’t see it? She rubbed her forehead, squeezing hard to push away the headache pounding her skull.

  Everything that hadn’t been right between them came rushing to the surface. Stopping the flow of memories took some effort. The tears that filled her eyes took her by surprise. Where had they come from? She’d cried enough over the last two days to fill a dam. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Not now. Not now. Not now. Just let me get through this.

  “Are you all right?”

  Stupid question, if I laugh, will he think I’ve cracked up? She felt like she was. The 2:00 a.m. phone call she’d received about forty-eight hours before hadn’t been what she’d expected. If it had been her mom saying their fight had gone far enough and Bailey should grow up and let it go... yes. She was all right with that. Being told her mom was dead... no. She’d caught the first flight out of Victoria and landed in Calgary, rented a car and headed to Foothills Hospital where she’d learned her mom’s heart had given out. The doctors had done everything they could but couldn’t explain how that could happen to a woman at age sixty. It just sometimes did. That she’d been failing for several months hadn’t helped.