Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
The cellar door appeared in the gloom in the distance. “What happened?”
“No one knows for sure, but Darcie told me it had to be Bea. She had a fascination with fire, likely set it while playing with matches.” His jaw was so tight the tendons looked as if they might snap. “They had a nanny who used to come down here with them. She was in that wing when it went up.”
“Oh my God.” I didn’t need to ask if she’d survived, not with what he’d said about ghosts.
“Darcie says fire starting is a sign of disturbance, and that her parents should’ve got Beatrice help then. But they didn’t, not until much later.” A pause before he swore again. “Do you believe it? That Bea was that unhinged?”
“No.” I never would. “We would’ve noticed something. And I know she’s your wife, but Darcie’s the only one saying anything about Bea being unstable. What other proof do we have?”
“Bea killed herself.”
A denunciation so angry that I knew why Darcie had screamed those words about obsession at him: Ash was still in love with Bea.
Having reached the cellar, he pushed open the door and called out Darcie’s name while lighting up the space with the beam of his flashlight. There was no sign of movement, and when we walked down to search among the aisles, I stopped him and pointed to the floor with my own flashlight. “Look.”
Only a single set of footprints in the dust. Obviously mine due to the distinctive tread pattern on the bottoms of my sneakers—which I’d decided to turn into house shoes for the duration of this week.
Regardless, we did a full search. Nothing.
Once back in the hallway, we aimed ourselves toward the living area, but didn’t go in a straight line. Instead, we checked every side door and room that Darcie might’ve passed on the way. We were close to the smudged portrait—close to the area where I’d heard rustling in the walls—when I noticed a tapestry that was hanging in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. At a permanent angle to the left.
Frowning, I walked over.
My mouth went dry the instant I tried to lift the tapestry . . . and found it was caught in a seam in the wall that shouldn’t be there. “Ash, there’s a door behind here.”
22
Itried to turn the latch cleverly inlaid into a hollow in the door—so that the tapestry would lie flat against it. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again.
Roughly pushing aside my hand, Ash twisted with his own. “It’s locked.” A grim line to his jaw, he told me to hold back the tapestry, then he put his shoulder to the door and banged into it.
Once.
Twice.
A cracking sound on the third.
The fourth broke it away from the jam and sent him tumbling inside.
Motes of dust danced in the beam of my flashlight as I began to search the secret space. I was moving slowly but still almost missed her. She looked like nothing, a discarded piece of clothing in a corner behind an old chaise longue with a curved back and once-golden arm dull with dust.
It was the glint of pale blond that alerted my subconscious, the shine of her hair the most brilliant thing in the room. My light hitched, returned to her, and then I was running over. “Darcie!”
“Jesus, baby! Darceline!” Ash fell onto his knees beside her, cradling her in his arms while I checked desperately for a pulse in her wrist, then in her neck. My own was so loud in my ears that it took me multiple attempts.
“She’s got a pulse,” I said, not adding that it felt sluggish to me. I was no expert. “We should get her to V and Nix.”
Ash rose shakily, Darcie in his arms.
I went ahead to make sure the broken door didn’t get in his way, and the two of us made our way to the lounge as quickly as possible. I called out as I went, yelling that we’d found her and needed Vansi or Phoenix. Even if they couldn’t make out what I was saying, the fact that I was shouting should sound the alert.
I heard Kaea yell from the living room even as the sound of running feet vibrated through the house from various directions. A winded Vansi made it to us just as we reached the living area. Ash immediately placed Darcie on a sofa, and Vansi got to work checking her vitals.
It was only when I turned to look at Ash, say something, that I saw the blood on the pale blue of his shirt. Against the edge of one side of his chest and over one of his biceps. He looked down when I gasped, saw what I already had. “She’s bleeding.”
Thinking of how he’d held her, I said, “Her head, it has to be her head.”