Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Walking along the balcony above the great hall, I peered down to see guests seated near the impressive fireplace. The carpeted hallway led to the landing where three stained glass windows spilled light into the gigantic space.
The great hall was exactly what you’d expect of a Scottish castle with expensive Aubusson carpets, classic lavish furnishings, and tremendous double doors that led outside. Two chesterfield sofas faced one another at the big stone fireplace, which was currently lit. Guests who were not familiar to me sipped coffee and read on their phones.
A footman dressed in a traditional black tailcoat and white gloves waited off to the side. I gestured to him as I took the last few steps down into the great hall. The young man strode smartly across the room to meet me.
“Good afternoon, sir.” He bowed his head.
“Good afternoon. I’d like my rental car brought around. Cavendish is the name.”
“Of course, Mr. Cavendish. I will see to that immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Clicking of heels in the distance drew my gaze toward the entrances that led to other reception rooms in the castle. Sure enough, a familiar, tall, and very beautiful woman appeared through the arched entrance that led to her office.
Aria Howard. Ardnoch’s hospitality manager and my old friend’s fiancée.
North had tried calling me three times since Jared showed up at the cottage, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him.
Aria was a voluptuous, long-legged beauty who managed the estate with such efficiency and calm, she made the job look easy when it must be anything but. Her father was legendary film director Wesley Howard, and she’d grown up in Malibu. A far cry from the council estate her fiancé North had grown up in as a foster child in Scotland. I’d admired North when I’d learned his story. He’d pulled himself up from shit and turned himself into an award-winning actor.
He was a good man.
I hadn’t expected the arsehole to think so little of me as to betray Sarah and me to her cousin like I was … like I was a monster who’d kidnapped and defiled an innocent princess. Now that I knew that was what he thought of me, I didn’t have time for him.
Or his fiancée.
Aria wore a neutral expression as she came to a stop. In her heels, she was the same height as me. “Mr. Cavendish, two officers from Scotland Yard are here to see you,” she told me in hushed tones. “They’re in my office waiting.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Had my brother not ordered his watchdogs off my back? “Wonderful,” I muttered and gestured for her to lead the way.
Instead, she fell into step beside me. “North has been trying to reach you.”
“Has he? What an utter waste of his precious time.”
She stiffened. “He’s worried about you. Though goodness knows why.”
I cut her a bland look. “Yes, I, too, am rather at a loss as to why.”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You don’t deserve him as a friend.”
I raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk curling my lips. “You and I must have very different understandings of the definition of the word friend, Ms. Howard.”
Confusion flickered over her face for a second before she wiped it clean and pushed open her office door. I followed her inside.
“I’ll leave you in private,” she said, stepping back and closing the door behind her, leaving me in a room with a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked to be in his early fifties. His belly strained slightly against his white shirt, but beyond that, he looked like he could squash me between his large, bear-paw hands. The woman at his side was dressed similarly in a suit and winter coat, but while she was tall, she was younger and fit-looking. Her brown hair was pulled back in an efficient ponytail, and she wore little makeup.
“Look, let’s save us all some time. I’m alive and well and there is no reason, other than insanity, for my brother to file a missing person’s report.”
The police officers shared a look before the man stepped forward, holding out a hand. “DCI Rick English, Mr. Cavendish. This is DI Jane Hatlock. We’re with the Major Investigations Unit at Scotland Yard. We’re not here because of your brother or a missing person’s report. We’ve been trying to contact you regarding the Hangman murders.”
Dread instantly settled like a pit in my stomach.
“Are you aware of the murders, Mr. Cavendish?”
I nodded, feeling a little out of my body. “Yes. Yes, I’ve seen it on the news. I … I … I did note that the murders share the same name from my television show.” There was a question in my statement.
DCI English nodded solemnly. “Mr. Cavendish, I’m sorry to relay this, but it’s become very clear in our investigations that our perpetrator is copying the murders from King’s Valley.”