Читать книгу Wedding Captives - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 15

Spence was a medical doctor, certified in search-and-rescue emergency medical procedures, and while he’d interned at Colorado University Medical Center in Denver, he’d spent months in the ER, where he repaired bone-deep gashes, probed for bullets and had once delivered twins. The sight of blood shouldn’t have affected him.

But when he saw the stain on Jenny’s wedding gown, and yanked the gown from the garment bag, his gut wrenched. The filmy white fabric burned in his hands.

From the moment he’d first seen the castle, he’d sensed something was wrong, and other things only kept piling on to confirm his instincts. The remote location. The butler’s shoulder holster. The bizarre request to leave behind all cell phones, which were useless anyway without cellular service in the area.

Then, not only the absence of staff and servants, but Jenny’s failure to appear at all. Spence couldn’t even excuse Rosemont, who might be expected to keep to himself were it not the weekend of his wedding.

Now this. The bloodstain on Jenny’s bridal gown caused all the vague threads to draw together, like blood fibrin congealing. They were all caught up and in danger—perhaps mortal danger.

What had happened to Jenny?

Both Thea and Travis looked toward him as if they expected Spence to have an answer, but there was no rational explanation. It didn’t take the training or standard operating procedures of the search-and-rescue unit to state the obvious. “We should call the police.”

“Right,” Thea said, her features drawn tight in anxiety for Jenny. She darted across the room and picked up the bedside telephone and stabbed out 911. But when she listened for an answer and apparently got no response, her alarm notched higher. She shook the receiver, tapped the plunger button. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, bouncing off the obscene marble statuary. She met his gaze with her eyes wide. “The phone’s dead.”

“What the hell is this scene?” Travis yelled. “If that bastard hurt my sister, I’ll kill him. Swear to God, I’ll tear his heart out with my bare—”

“That’s enough!” Spence commanded. “You won’t help Jenny by falling apart. We have to find your sister.”

Travis sank onto a plush purple chaise longue. Leaning forward, he ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “It’s my fault. I should’ve taken better care of her.”

For the first time, his voice held a surprising ring of sincerity. Though Travis was a brash, self-centered jerk, he might actually care about his sister.

Spence hoped that was the case. If Rosemont turned out to be a bust, and it sure as hell was starting to look that way, Jenny was going to need her brother’s support.

But where was she? Was she all right? Spence looked down at the gown in his hands and inspected the dried bloodstain, which was the approximate size of a postcard but irregular in shape. There were splatters. The fabric had not been torn.

“This stain didn’t come from a wound.” He turned the bodice inside out. “You see? There’s no rip. And there’s less blood on the inside than the outside.”

“What does that mean?” Thea asked.

“Someone poured this blood onto the dress.”

“But why?”

“It might be a threat,” he surmised. “Maybe we were meant to find this dress.”

She took his idea one step farther. “If someone wanted us to find the dress, it means the threat is directed at us. The wedding party.”

“Bull.” Travis bolted from the chaise and got right up in her face. “This isn’t about you, babe. It’s all about my sister.”

“Back off,” Spence warned.

“You know what, dude?” Travis whirled and confronted him. “Who died and left you boss?” With a stiff index finger, he poked at Spence’s chest. “Why you? Huh?”

Lightning fast, Spence clamped the younger man’s wrist in a vise-like grip. “Could be because between us, I’m the grown-up.”

“Yeah, good old Spence. Manly man.” Through clenched teeth, Travis said, “You were at my old man’s funeral. Jenny said you were such a comfort. Said she couldn’t have made it without you. Well you know what? That should have been me.”

“You’re right.” Spence hadn’t usurped the job of comforting Jenny. She had no one else; her brother was absent, tucked away in a rehab center, hiding from his grief. “You should have been there, Travis.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Travis wrenched away from him. Like a petulant, spoiled brat, he cradled his wrist.

Spence turned toward Thea. Moments ago, he’d held her in his arms. He’d kissed her. That idyllic interlude seemed far gone, erased by the intrusion of real threats. Of danger. “Let’s go downstairs and tell the others. We’ll search the castle and find Jenny and then we’re out of here.”

Thea was already on her way out the door. “Let’s go.”

Leaving the gown in the bridal suite, they descended the narrow staircase into the kitchen.

Lawrence sat on a high stool fiddling with some kind of hand-held electronic game. Dr. Mona had arranged fresh fruit in gleaming silver bowl and sat peeling apples and pears. “Did you find Jenny?” she enthused, then shrank into herself at Thea’s grim expression.

“No. We didn’t.”

While Spence outlined their discovery of the bloodstained dress and his plan to search the castle, he noticed the psychologist observing him closely with her bright black eyes. Occasionally, she nodded. Her expert opinion might be useful. “Mona, I’d like to hear what you think about all this.”

“Blood on the wedding gown,” she said. Her small, wizened face twisted in a frown. “Highly symbolic, isn’t it? Almost archetypal.”

“Psychobabble,” Travis said with a groan. “Can we get started with the search?”

Ignoring him, Spence said, “What else, Mona?”

“It’s a theatrical gesture, well-planned.” She scratched the back of her head, ruffling her short gray hair. “I’m reminded of those murder mystery weekends when several people gather to solve a fake crime.”

“Fake?” Spence could only pray that Dr. Mona was correct. “Are you suggesting this might be an elaborate joke?”

“I don’t know. I seriously doubt that Jenny would prepare such a complicated scenario—and why a murder mystery on the weekend of her wedding? To what purpose?”

“What about Rosemont?” Spence asked.

“I’ve never met Gregory Rosemont,” Mona said. “I suppose he might be enacting some unknown agenda and perhaps convinced Jenny to play along.”

“We’re wasting time,” Reverend Joshua intoned. “Much as I hate to agree with Travis, I believe we should begin our search without further delay.”

Spence turned toward the butler, who shut down his game and tucked it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Lawrence, is there a floor plan of this place?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

As he stepped forward, Lawrence buttoned his black wool blazer. The jacket fitted so well that Spence hardly noticed the slight bulge of the shoulder holster. Lawrence had obviously taken the time to move the holster and weapon to wear it even indoors. The question arose again. Why was the so-called butler armed? “Come with me, Lawrence. I want to ask you about the lighting system.”

“Certainly.”

The butler followed Spence into the coatroom. Before Spence could close the door, Thea slipped through. She closed the door. “Excuse me,” she said. “I had a question for Lawrence.”

“Yes, ma’am?” He inclined his head toward her.

Deftly, she reached toward him, unfastened the button on his blazer and flipped it aside. “Why do you have a gun?”

Spence winced. Subtlety had never been one of Thea’s attributes.

“In addition to my duties as a butler,” Lawrence said, “I occasionally act as a bodyguard. I am licensed to carry a concealed weapon.”

“Is Rosemont expecting trouble?” Spence asked.

“He did not see fit to confide his suspicions,” Lawrence answered, dismissing the subject. “Did you have a question about the lights?”

“They came on when we approached the outer door, but there wasn’t anybody here. Who turned them on?”

“All the lights in the house are motion sensitive. You’ll find that’s true throughout the premises. When you enter a room, the lights will come on. Ten minutes after you leave, they automatically extinguish—unless you’ve pressed the bypass switch. The gas fireplaces work in a similar manner. Quite modern and efficient.”

Spence wasn’t impressed. “Like the state-of-the-art phone system that doesn’t work?”

Lawrence looked truly surprised. “The phones aren’t working? Are you sure?”

Thea nodded. “I tried to phone the police from the bridal suite. I didn’t even get a dial tone.”

“Well,” Lawrence balked. “All technology has a few glitches.”

“Are there computers in the house?” Spence asked.

“Well, of course, there are computers,” Lawrence answered disdainfully. “Mr. Rosemont made his fortune from Web sites.”

“Is his Internet access through the phone lines?”

“I couldn’t really say.” Lawrence scratched his head.

Unwitting, Thea touched Spence’s arm. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m hoping that Rosemont has installed cable or a dish for the newest satellite access. We can reach the police that way—but if he operates on phone modem, we’re out of luck.”

“We can take a look,” Lawrence offered. “I assume you will know what you’re looking for?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Lawrence led the way back into the kitchen. “Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me.”

Spence fell into step beside Thea. They held back from the rest of the herd. In a low voice, he said, “In the future, you might want to think twice before confronting a man with a gun.”

“I found out what we needed to know, didn’t I?”

“All we learned was what the butler was willing to tell us. Not much, Thea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Were you planning to interrogate him? Please, Spence. Don’t get all macho on me. You have a good plan. Let’s just follow it—find Jenny and then get out of here.”

Though Thea wasn’t looking forward to another ride on the gondola, she knew they had to escape and that was their only way out.

As they walked through the arched serving area to the dining room, brilliant lights flashed to life. Twenty high-backed chairs ranged around a long table which was covered with a damask and lace table cloth. Pink roses made a lovely centerpiece. Fresh roses! They looked almost dewy, as if they’d just been picked from a garden.

While Dr. Mona had been reminded of a murder mystery weekend, Thea thought of the sinister castle in “Beauty and the Beast” where unseen servants performed all the work and the visitors hardly realized they were pampered prisoners. “Spence, do you think this is a trick or some kind of a joke?”

He grimaced. “Let’s hope so.”

Lawrence announced, “We are now entering the Grand Drawing Room. This is where the wedding ceremony is to be held.”

Four light fixtures reflected against the gold-painted ceiling. A gas-powered fire flared in the massive stone fireplace, fronted with green-veined marble tiles. The furnishings were antique, mostly hunter green, mostly Queen Anne style with high-backed chairs.

A whispery voice floated, disembodied, through the air. “Please be seated.”

The wedding party shared a single gasp. Each of them glanced nervously at the others.

“Please,” the voice repeated. “Everyone find a seat.”

Thea found herself looking toward Spence. Arrogant as all hell, the man made a natural leader. At the moment, she wanted someone to tell her what to do.

“Let’s do it,” he ordered, looking about the room for speakers. “Must be an audio tape,” he said. “Possibly activated like the lights as we came into the room.”

“Are you sitting?” the disembodied voice asked.

“Radical,” Travis mocked, all nervous, angry energy. He planted his hands on his narrow hips and shouted to the proverbial rafters, “Where is my sister, you bastard?”

“Travis, for heaven’s sake, shut up and listen,” Thea urged, troubled by his expression, his haughty attitude of entitlement which not only set off alarms inside her that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but would almost certainly enrage Rosemont. “Maybe we’ll learn something if you knock it off.”

Travis glared at her, but, with the exception of Lawrence who stood posed in front of the mantle, they each found a spot, Thea beside Spence on a brocade sofa. She whispered, “This is too weird, Spence—”

The mysterious voice interrupted her. “I am your host, Gregory Rosemont. Welcome to Castle in the Clouds.”

There was a pause, as if to allow them to respond. No one spoke, though Travis looked as if he was eating ground glass to keep quiet.

“The world is such a lonely place,” the voice of Rosemont continued, “and yet, it’s been said that we’re all connected. Each of us knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. Within six degrees of separation, each of us may be connected to every other person on the planet by those we share in common. All of you, for instance, know Jenny, but not necessarily each other.”

No one seemed confused by Rosemont’s reference to the infamous “six degrees of separation.” Thea supposed everyone had heard of the theory by now. And as far as Thea could figure, she and Spence were the only members of the wedding party who were previously acquainted.

“Each of you also knew one other special individual—a sensitive but tortured soul. Each of you, in your own cruel way, wronged this person.

“This weekend is for reparations. This weekend is your last chance to repent,” Rosemont said. “You have forty-eight hours to admit to your crimes and betrayals. At that time, a helicopter will arrive to transport the survivors down from the mountain. If you refuse to face the wrongs you have done, you will die.”