Her aunt had spared no expense in decorating the guest bedroom to perfection. White and warm sandy neutrals were woven through the bedding and throw pillows. An impressive wicker bed with a beautiful cane headboard had been made into a feature against a teal accent wall, a gorgeous pendant light of seashells sending a kaleidoscope of colour across it. It was like something out of an opulent beach resort, with an untidy, dishevelled, and unorganised holiday maker residing inside. Saige examined the room.
The bedsheets had been thrown back, the pillows on the floor. Library books had been stashed in piles across the white duchess that also doubled as a desk. Chocolate candy wrappers littered a corner of the floor, just a few centimetres from the wicker trash bin. Knowing her aunt, Saige was fairly certain that bin was for decoration purpose only.
Aunt Prue must have had a heart attack when she walked in here.
She stepped over to the desk, recognising some of the books from the previous day’s library session—folktales, stories of witches and ghouls, and the early history of Ashvall. Saige went through the books, hoping Harriette might have jotted down notes—anything that may have indicated what she’d learned and been so desperate to convey to Saige. The books were empty. She checked the drawers. There was nothing inside. She ran her hands through Harriette’s suitcase, but there were only clothes.
Frustration coursed through Saige to the very tips of her fingers. A loud thunderclap rattled outside, a reminder that there was still very dangerous weather on the way.
A car door slammed. She rushed to the window.
Shit!
A vehicle had pulled up to the curb. Two officers were on their way to the house, a suited detective and an officer in uniform.
I’m running out of time.
She frantically searched through the wardrobe, hoping something may have been left in one of the drawers. They were all empty.
Where’s Harriette’s computer? Surely she has one.
A heavy knock came on the door downstairs. She heard Jasper’s heavy footsteps, on the way to answer.
She checked the bedside table, but there was nothing inside the drawer except a few munched-on chocolate bars. She looked under the bed, not sure what she was hoping to find. About to admit defeat, Saige went back to the desk for one final search. She hadn’t noticed it before, but hidden behind several empty styrofoam coffee cups was a small intricate latch. She swept the cups aside and gave the latch a pull. A compartment hidden under the desk’s surface opened. Inside was a blue book. She grabbed it and fumbled through the pages.
Voices resonated from below. She froze at the distinct sound of someone coming up the stairs.
Damn it!
Saige rummaged through the notebook, feeling as though her heart ticked in time with a bomb. Handfuls of notes and images spilled from the pages onto the floor. In a panic, she bent down to rake them into a pile.
Icy shock fluttered inside her. Harriette wasn’t just fascinated with Saige’s family history. She was obsessed with it. There were newspaper clippings, scanned and printed out from archives about accidental deaths that had occurred on the grounds of Wolvercraft Manor. The earliest dated back to 1846. All of them had messy, illegible notes written at the sides. There were pictures of Xav and Zoe cut out from newspapers and magazines. A red circle had been drawn around Zoe’s head in all of them.
What the hell is this?
There were photographs of her father at gala events. Photos of Aunt Prue conducting tours in Wolvercraft Manor. Images of Aunt Violet lunching with other socialites. Even pictures of Saige going in and out of her apartment.
I’m going to be sick.
Who is Dr Harriette Reynolds?
A floorboard creaked from the hallway, followed by footsteps.
“It’s just down here, right at the end.”
That was Aunt Prue.
Saige gathered all the photos together and stuffed them back into the notebook. That was when she saw the black-and-purple scrap of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of the book before, and she’d missed it. She picked it up. It was a business card.
GET THE ANSWERS THAT YOU SEEK.
MILDRED TEMPLETON – PSYCHIC MEDIUM AND CLAIRVOYANT.
There was a date and time on the back of the card. Saige’s stomach did a backflip. Yesterday at 4:00 p.m.
Harriette met this woman a few hours before she disappeared.
It was vital evidence. Something the police would need.
But I need it more.
She rammed the notebook into her hoodie pocket and fumbled into the bathroom that adjoined Aunt Prue’s room, shutting the door gently behind her. To make things more authentic, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands in the basin, then stepped out into the hallway.
“Oh, Saige, there you are.” Aunt Prue stood outside the guest bedroom. The police were inside the room, searching Harriette’s belongings. “Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re pale.”
The air in Saige’s lungs seemed to vanish. “I’m not entirely well,” she lied. “I think maybe I should go back to the house.”
Aunt Prue took her hand and gave it a light tap. “I think that’s a wise decision. The public coach is taking people to Wolvercraft Manor. One every hour. The final trip is at 2:00 p.m. Make sure you and that young man are on it well before then, please.”
Saige frowned. “Taking people to Wolvercraft Manor?”
Her aunt’s eyebrows dipped. “Well, yes. Wolvercraft Manor is one of the island’s emergency evacuation centres. The other is the town hall. This storm is approaching and is going to be extremely dangerous. Everyone who lives in low-lying areas is encouraged to leave and get to an evacuation centre right away. Your father wants me to leave, too, but I’m not in any danger down here. And I can’t leave. Mr Bubbles wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Then I guess that settles it. Jasper and I will leave now.”
Saige was almost grateful for the news. It meant she had till two o’clock to find this Mildred Templeton.
She ducked past her aunt.
“Oh, Saige. One moment, dear. Please just wait downstairs with that handsome man. The police would like to talk with you first.”
Saige’s feet suddenly felt rooted to the spot. “Of course.”
Shit.
* * *
Saige sat on the sofa, bouncing her heel in a nervous tic that she couldn’t seem to get rid of. Jasper casually stretched his legs and snacked on another chocolate biscuit. She marvelled at how calm he was. Did he have enough practise with police officers to know how to play it cool? He’d had a bad-boy streak back in school. Regrettably, that was what had first attracted her to him. She’d read in online magazines that his band members were often in the sights of the police of whatever country they were touring. Something to do with drugs and women. She really hoped that was just the media being… well, the media and sensationalising half-truths.
“Miss Wolvercraft.”
Saige jumped.
The short, bald man in the suit appeared, followed by the young, uniformed police officer. Her aunt stood in the doorway behind them, her face lacking colour. The young officer remained standing, his pen poised on a notepad.
The older policeman sat down. His eyes roamed the room, evaluating the family pictures on the mantel, then crossed back to Saige. He seemed to scrutinise her slowly. “I’m Detective Bassi, and this is Officer Hammond. I understand you were meant to meet with Dr Reynolds last evening. She had something important to tell you?”
Saige divided a glance between her aunt and Jasper. It took a moment to find her voice. “Um, yes. That’s correct.”
“Your aunt tells me that you were extremely worried about Dr Reynolds. Even before the storm occurred.”
Saige inhaled a breath. Why did the notebook in her pocket suddenly feel… hot? “I just thought it was unusual that she wasn’t there. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would break her word.”
“You knew her well?”
“No. Only a few days.”
“Was she acting unusual yesterday in the library?”
Detective Bassi’s question took a moment to register in her head. “Unusual?”
“Yes. Jittery? Nervous? Anything that seemed odd?”
Saige realised her hands were trembling. She stuffed them under her thighs. “No. She was telling me about my family history.”
It's kind of the truth.
She took them through the events of the day before as best as she could, eliminating the ghosts and supernatural occurrences.
Detective Bassi focused on Jasper. “Do you have anything to add to that, Mr Young?”
Jasper shook his head. “Saige’s account sums it up.”
There were a few more routine questions, or what Saige supposed were routine questions when someone was missing. It seemed to her that the detective was eliminating possibilities, that he’d already concluded that Harriette’s disappearance was due to the severe weather event.
Detective Bassi gave her a stiff smile and stood. “Thank you, Miss Wolvercraft.”
“What happens now?” Aunt Prue piped up.
“A recovery mission is being organised as we speak. Ashvall has a small SAR group. It’s mostly volunteers, but we’ll search the Hauteville Woods until it’s no longer safe to do so.”
Aunt Prue’s lip trembled. “SAR?”
“Search and Rescue, ma’am.”
Saige’s pulse picked up. She hadn’t failed to notice that Detective Bassi had said “recovery mission,” not “rescue mission.” He really did think Harriette was dead.
Saige knew it was true in her bones. She passed Jasper a tacit let’s-get-out-of-here look. She was desperate to have another search through the notebook.
Detective Bassi and Officer Hammond left, far too resigned and slow for Saige’s liking.
Aunt Prue paced across the room. “I’ve decided to pack a few things and go to the house. I’m bringing Mr Bubbles with me. These storms… he’s terrified.”
Saige looked at the ginger tabby asleep on the sofa. He hadn’t moved once except to glare through slitted eyes at everyone, annoyed by the disturbance.
Terrified indeed.
Aunt Prue aimed a hesitant glance at the clock. “Go back to the house, Saige. Get the next coach.”
“Of course.” She hung her head, knowing the lie would be evident in her eyes.
She had till 2:00 p.m.
Plenty of time.
* * *
Saige stepped out into the rain. Aunt Prue had offered her an umbrella, but honestly, there was no point. The downpour had already doubled in strength and speed. She jogged down the stone path into the street.
Jasper trailed behind her. “Okay, what’s going on? Why did you look so guilty back there?”
She raised her eyebrows at him but kept walking. “Listen. I have stuff to do here. Go back to the manor.”
God, why did he have to follow her all the time like a lost puppy? This sort of commitment years ago would have made her happiness climb higher than the moon, but now his clingy, dependent attitude was really getting on her nerves.
He has a girlfriend. Keep your distance from him.
Do not let old feelings rise.
Jasper crossed his arms. “You have stuff to do in town? In the pouring rain? Just fancy some shopping, do you?”
His long legs meant he easily kept up to her stride as she hurried along the zebra crossing into town. The street ahead was empty, doors shut and windows boarded up in preparation for the storm. It was strange seeing Ashvall abandoned, like Saige had really stepped into a ghost town. The sign for the White Horse Pub swung in the heavy wind, the galvanised bracket groaning in complaint. The once lively cafés and bakeries seemed lonely without their Parisian-like atmospheres on display. Normally, stagecoaches and horse-drawn carriages passed by every few minutes, offering expensive rides for tourists. Everyone had gone, huddled up in their homes or seeking shelter at Wolvercraft Manor or the town hall. It made Saige afraid that what she was about to do was a bad idea.
She shook the feeling off.
This place is still safer than Wolvercraft Manor.
Jasper watched her with an anxious stare, as though he were afraid her hostile attitude would make her combust into flames. “Come on, Saige. We’re partners in crime in this. Let me help.”
Partners?
The word infuriated her.
Jasper must have picked up on her aversion, because he stilled. Rain flattened his hair to his forehead, making him appear more boyish and uncertain. “What did your brother say to you back at the gazebo, exactly? You’ve been acting strange ever since.”
That was a conversation she really didn’t want to get into. “None of your business.”
She ducked beneath the awning of an art gallery and took out Harriette’s notebook from her hoodie. “If you insist on helping me, then take a look at what I found. Harriette has been documenting my family history for years, it would seem.” She opened the book. “There are articles in here about my family, dated back from the nineteenth century. Newspaper clippings from the Ashvall Herald. And images of Zoe with a red circle around her head.”
Saige pointed to the picture.
Jasper’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you steal evidence?”
“You’re missing the point. Harriette Reynolds knew more than she was letting on. I think she knew exactly what this curse was but needed a final piece of evidence to prove her theory. She was going to tell me last night, but this… the curse got to her first.” Her breath came out a little faster. “Jasper, I want you to go back to my aunt’s house and make sure she arrives safely at Wolvercraft Manor. She shouldn’t be alone.”
“If there’s anyone who shouldn’t be alone, it’s you.”
Saige shut her eyes. She was too tired to argue. And besides, she really didn’t want to be alone in this. It was a pity that it had to be Jasper, but she knew it was safer to have company than to be isolated should something go wrong. And if Saige went ahead with this next step, something could very well go… wrong. “Fine. Just try not to get in the way.”
Jasper’s cheerful smile returned. “Excellent. Where are we going?”
She shoved the business card against his chest. “To see a clairvoyant.”