A Killer Retreat by Tracy Weber Page A

She’s hiding something from me, and it’s tearing her up inside.”
    â€œWhat on earth would she be hiding?”
    Sam stopped walking and silently stared at his shoes. When he looked up, his face was stricken. “I think she’s having an affair.”
    Those were fighting words.
    The hair on the back of my arms stood up. In fact, my entire body prickled, as if supercharged with static electricity. Rene had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. She was many things: flirtatious, sarcastic, an inveterate practical joker. Rene could be pushy, nosy—downright intrusive at times. Frankly, she was often annoying as hell. But above all else, Rene was loyal. Sam, of all people, should know that.
    â€œDon’t be an idiot, Sam,” I snapped. “Rene would never cheat on you. She would never cheat on anybody. And if you haven’t figured that out after three years of marriage, then maybe you don’t deserve her.”
    I expected him to snap back. I had, after all, just called him an idiot. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything for several long seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded defeated.
    â€œYou’re right.” He paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Of course you’re right. But, something’s going on with her, Kate. Something bad. And she won’t talk to me about it. Believe me, I’ve asked.”
    I angled my face away from his mustache, bit back the subtle wave of nausea, and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry, Sam. I wish there was something I could do.”
    He pulled back. “Actually, there is.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that.
    â€œRene shares everything with you. You could talk to her and—”
    I held up my palms. “Stop right there, mister. I’d do anything to help Rene. You know that. But I will always take her side. Even if she did tell me what was bothering her, I wouldn’t blab it to you. You two need to work out your own relationship issues.”
    â€œI know that, Kate, but will you at least talk to her?”
    Sam wheedled and cajoled and begged and pleaded all the way to the Retreat House. By the time we reached the door, I had reluctantly agreed to talk to Rene. Honestly, I’d planned to wrangle the truth out of her, anyway. Admitting that fact to Sam was a small price to pay to give him some peace.
    Emmy answered the door looking significantly more relaxed than she had earlier. An ever-so-slight slur underscored her bright vocal tone. The sweet smell of vermouth drifted on her breath. I had a feeling that she’d indulged in more than one of her father’s famous Manhattans.
    â€œI’m so glad you guys made it!” She stumbled slightly as she opened the door wider. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
    We followed her around the gorgeous space, which was packed wall-to-wall with people sipping wine, soda, and a variety of forty-proof beverages.
    â€œThe Retreat House is Elysian Spring’s showcase,” Emmy enthused. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    Indeed it was. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean and provided light for a flourishing indoor naturescape of philodendrons, golden pothos, and schefflera trees. The bamboo flooring gleamed with the telltale shine of recent installation and contrasted gorgeously with a large area rug woven in bright reds, blues, beiges, and greens. The carpet’s pattern contained colorful stick figures meant to be dogs, horses, or goats, I wasn’t sure which.
    Emmy noticed my gaze. “That’s a Gabbeh.”
    â€œA Gabbeh?”
    â€œA style of carpet that was imported from Iran before the trade embargo. That particular rug was created by female weavers in the Zagros Mountains.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful.”
    â€œThanks.” She frowned. “Kyle hates it.”
    â€œThe chef ? Why would he care?”
    She shrugged. “It’s