For a moment, Amelia thought it sounded like an animal growling, and as the bridge shuddered to a standstill, exposing the open maw of the castle across the way, she felt apprehension building inside of her.

  The guards nodded and then waved them on. Amelia drove first, the bridge clanking and groaning beneath the weight of the three cars. Glancing down to the side, she saw the waters of the moat below. The water moved slowly, cast in shadow as its surface was a good several meters below the landline.

  I wonder how deep it goes, she thought. But the water remained silently obscure, bleak and carrying with it a deep sense of history, of battles long since finished, of struggles long since completed, and yet a mystery wrapping around the foot of the massive castle like a coiled snake, squeezing until the last breath of life was gone from the place.

  This place feels like death, she thought.

  Gladly, she finally crossed the bridge. But the relief was momentary. She now found herself driving through a massive stone archway into a cobbled courtyard. Walls surrounded her, and the sheer scale of the place was overwhelming.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Amelia checked to make sure that her two companions were close behind in their cars. They were there all right, but as she turned to face the open courtyard again, she now saw the wide-shouldered figure of a man before her, his skin almost as ashen as the dead.

  Amelia gasped and thrust her foot onto the brake. The car slid forward on the mossy cobblestone, and the man glared at her with disdain, unflinching and unmoved.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Finn pulled up alongside Amelia’s car in the courtyard. He didn’t have time to be taken aback by the tall brooding walls and gray stone cobbles of the courtyard, or the wide double-arched doorway with stone steps leading up to them in front; instead, he was more concerned about Amelia.

  He had just watched her slam on her brakes, and it was only when he exited the car that Finn realized why. There was a strange-looking man standing only inches from the front of her car.

  “You okay?” Finn asked as Amelia stepped out of her car.

  “Yes,” she said in a frustrated tone. “Sorry about that. I didn’t see you,” she said, turning to the man in front of the car.

  The man nodded slightly. Finn thought he looked sickly. His skin had almost a subtle green pallor to it, and the large wrinkled flaps of skin beneath his eyes made him look like something out of an old horror film. It was the face of someone who had seen the grim realities of the world and absorbed them into his own demeanor.

  Looking around at the courtyard, he saw the man wasn’t out of place, that was for sure. If the exterior of DeGrey Castle had been brilliantly imposing in the stark British sun, its first small courtyard was almost suffocating. The walls around felt as if they would push in on anyone standing there long enough.

  “I’m Chief Constable Collins,” Rob said, reaching the man and offering his hand.

  The man looked disgruntled. He nodded again, almost never blinking, and then slowly extended his hand.

  “My name is Thaddeus Lincoln, I am the keeper of the castle grounds,” he said in a thick English accent.

  Finn listened to it intently, certain that the man was speaking in an official tone, careful to project himself in a certain way. Finn was convinced the voice he was using was not one he would use when speaking outside of the castle walls. If anything, there was an undercurrent of the countryside in his voice, a subtle rural twang that he was carefully controlling.

  In his short time in England dealing with aristocratic families and High Society, Finn couldn’t quite understand the need for such presentation. As far as he was concerned, people should talk the way they did naturally and embrace where they came from. The idea of hiding his own Florida accent was an alien concept to him.

  “This is Finn Wright, a consultant detective with the Home Office, and this is Inspector Winters, who will be heading up inquiries,” Rob continued.

  There was a silence between them, and Thaddeus stood there like he was waiting for something else to be said.

  Finn was growing impatient. He took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, letting his eyes adapt to the lower light of the shadowy courtyard.

  “Mr. Lincoln,” he said in a firm voice, “are you aware of what happened this morning?”

  “Quite aware,” the man said. “And the DeGrey family wish to be left alone to grieve.”

  Finn glanced up at the towering walls around him and saw countless darkened windows looking down at them. He felt as though they were being watched.

  “They may wish to be left alone,” Finn said, “but I would think the desire to know what happened to Maggie and who was responsible would be more important?”

  Thaddeus looked momentarily annoyed. “When you find the culprit of the hit-and-run, the family will be keen to hear of it. But until then, the family has asked me to protect their privacy as they process this terrible accident.”

  Process, Finn thought. They sound like robots.

  “Accident?” Finn asked rhetorically. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “Please, sir!” Thaddeus now said, more animated than before. His words echoed around the grim courtyard. “We do not wish to wallow in the idle speculation of the tabloids. Leave that to the gutter press.”

  “It is speculation,” Finn responded firmly. “But there’s good reason for that speculation. We believe that Maggie may have been running from someone when she was killed.”

  Now it was Finn’s words that echoed upward, and as though those words stirred something within the castle’s innards, Finn noticed an open window three rows up. A red curtain obscured the interior, but Finn caught a ruffle of it that was not caused by any draft.

  Between the curtain’s draped split, a white hand emerged, pulling the gap wide, and then dashing back inside as soon as Finn laid eyes upon it.

  He leaned to the side and whispered in Inspector Winters’s ear. “Someone is watching us, three rows up, five windows along.”

  Winters nodded and then looked up to the same spot. Then, returning her gaze to Thaddeus, she spoke loudly as if for other ears.

  “If Maggie was involved in something before she died, the gutter press, as you put it, will find out.” Winters looked upward again to the window. “If the DeGreys are worried about their reputation in all of this, it would be wise to assist us. Only then can we get out in front of this and stop rumors and gossip from piling misery on top of grief.”

  “I have my instructions,” Thaddeus said, resolutely. “I wanted to deliver them to you in person. Believe me when I say, the DeGreys have been part of this country’s institutions for eight hundred years. They have served it well and helped it prosper. The decent thing would be to leave them alone to grieve, rather than dragging up old wounds.”

  “Old wounds?” Winters asked. “Nobody said anything about old wounds. What would they be?”

  For the first time, Thaddeus looked flustered. But he didn’t have time to explain what he meant.

  Finn’s eyes were drawn to the double-arched doorway behind Thaddeus. A young woman with glasses and blond hair, dressed in a black suit, emerged.

  “Mr. Lincoln,” she said politely.

  “Yes, Gwen?” he said, turning to her.

  “Stewart DeGrey says he will meet with the officers,” she said. “They are to be seated in the lower drawing room.”

  Thaddeus shook his head. Finn could tell he wanted to say no, but there was no doubting that whoever Stewart DeGrey was, he was clearly an authority figure.

  “It appears my instructions have changed,” Thaddeus said. “Follow me, but I implore you to be quick about your business.”

  Thaddeus turned and walked with the young woman through the large double archway.

  “Something is wrong here,” Finn whispered to Rob and Winters.

  “Don’t let your imagination run wild again,” Winters said. But Finn could tell she was unsettled by something, too.

  “Let’s do everything by the book,” Rob said. “I’ll need to liaise with our communications team shortly to decide how to handle Maggie’s death in the press. You’ll be on your own for a while after this.”

  If only Rob knew how much was hanging on Finn doing everything by the book. Anything less would give the courts, his bosses, and the press adequate ammunition to shoot down his career and any future prospects.

  The problem was, by the book wasn’t how Finn was used to getting things done.

  They walked up to the double archway and stepped off of the cold stone onto a rich red carpet.

  “Don’t worry, Rob,” Finn said. “Winters will hold my hand if I get scared.”

  “Hold your own hand,” Winters replied, shaking her head but with a smile on her face.

  He liked that smile. Truth be told, he liked to be around her. He just wished that murder wasn’t the reason for their meeting.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As he and his two partners were led through its long hallways, Finn was struck by how different the interior of DeGrey Castle was. He remembered their previous case at Ferguson House, and how the mansion had been sprawling and filled with opulence. But DeGrey Castle had a different side to it.

  The place was truly ancient, and despite the wall hangings, paintings, wood paneling, and rich carpeted floors, there was no covering up the sense of history that hung in the air. Beneath the plaster and wood, there was cold stone. Stone that had been quarried and cut to build a stronghold. A place that would have seen siege and battle alike. A place that was no stranger to death.

  Finn found himself wondering if Maggie DeGrey was simply one more corpse added to the heap of the castle’s history. He shuddered at the thought.

  Finn walked alongside Rob and Winters, treading on the soft carpet and lush rugs. The lighting overhead came from a mix of chandeliers and glass shades, electric light bulbs designed to exude the yellow atmosphere of a lit candle.

  In front of him, Thaddeus Lincoln, the keeper of the castle grounds, walked solemnly, and with him the young woman, Gwen, who had informed him of their change of plans.

  Finn wondered who had been up at that window listening. He was impressed by how Winters had made them change their mind.

  Thaddeus walked with a slight stoop, and Finn felt each of the man’s steps as though the castle itself were creaking under the weight of it all. Glancing upward, he saw the arched ceilings of the hallways somehow held it together and had for untold centuries.

  Finally, Thaddeus stopped before an ancient-looking oak door. He turned the dark metal ringed handle halfway down the wood and then said, “This is the drawing room. Please make yourselves comfortable. Mr. DeGrey shall be with you at his own discretion.”

  With that, Thaddeus turned and left, and not a moment too soon. Finn was unnerved by the man, and it took a lot to make him feel that way.

  Gwen waited behind. She showed the three of them to rich upholstered seats around a cream rug with a cross pattern on it. Rob sat down, but Winters and Finn remained standing.

  “Can I get you some tea or anything else?” she asked.

  “No thank you,” Winters said.

  “None for me,” Rob answered.

  “Do you have coffee?” Finn asked.

  “Of course.” Gwen smiled. “I am one of the business administrators for the estate and I’m not used to serving drinks to our guests, but I’ll make an exception for you, Mr. Wright.”

  Finn was taken aback. “You know me?”

  Gwen’s eyes sparkled beneath the glow of an overhead light, the closed curtain making the room feel like night.

  “Many of us followed your case in the press,” she said. “They wrote a lot about you after Lord Van Reece’s murder.”

  “All good, I hope?” Finn smiled.

  “Some of it,” she said with a dazzling smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  Finn watched her as she left the room. She must have been no more than twenty-three or twenty-four, but she carried with her an air of someone who liked to get things done.

  Gwen left and Winters turned to Finn. “Close your mouth, Finn, you’ll end up drooling on the rug.”

  “I was not drooling,” Finn said.

  “Oh no?” Winters asked, raising an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.

  “No… I was merely admiring the wonderful… surroundings,” Finn said.

  Rob was deep in thought, looking at his phone.

  “What are you thinking, Chief?” Winters asked, sitting back down beside him.

  “I’m thinking my life was much simpler before the Home Office got interested in using us to clean up murder amongst the elites of British society.” He handed the phone to Winters.

  She looked at it and sighed. “It’s still not conclusive.”

  “What is it?” Finn asked.

  “The pathologist carrying out a reassessment of the first DeGrey death from two weeks ago,” Rob said. “He’s not finished his tests, but his preliminary finding is that it may not have been natural. The deceased’s blood samples are off. He’ll be in touch later, he’s waiting on one more result.”

  “Someone is going to come into an awful lot of money with Quentin DeGrey being dead,” Finn said, looking around. “Do we know if the victim owned all of this?”

  “We don’t know that he was a victim,” Winters said. “We need to proceed cautiously. If we go around throwing accusations about and we’re wrong, a family as powerful as the DeGreys could make our careers very difficult for us.”

  Finn laughed, but it was a bitter feeling that swirled around inside of him. “I’m not sure they could hurt my career any more. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”

  Finn felt the weight of his own words as they left his mouth. Was his career truly dead? He didn’t know for sure, but he hoped deep down that he could return to being a special agent. It had given him structure in his life; without it he felt like he might sink. He wondered if he’d have to be more careful around the DeGreys if they could pull strings against him reaching all the way back to Quantico.

  Winters turned with a sympathetic look on her face. Her head tilted slightly and she asked: “Is it that bad? I know you mentioned proceedings, but…”

  Finn sighed. “My lawyer wants me to head back to the US and prepare for court hearings.”

  “Finn, I’m sorry,” Rob said. “You know, maybe you should take their advice and—”

  “You trying to get rid of me?” Finn asked.

  “Not at all, old chap,” Rob said. “I’d rather have you here, but not if it’s at the cost of—”

  Suddenly, the door to the drawing room opened, and in stepped a tall man in his forties. He was wearing a white shirt and pristine gray suit trousers. A gray tie was around the man’s collar, but Finn noticed that the collar to one side wasn’t fully set, as though the man had been in a hurry when putting the tie on.

  His hair was brown and combed to the side, but it was slightly ruffled, sticking up subtly as though the man had been lying down.

  Gwen appeared alongside him. She now looked more flustered than she had before. There was no sign of the coffee she had gone to get, and it was clear from the way she walked alongside the man that she was giving him physical support.

  The man held onto her arm for a moment as he stepped in, gave a frail smile, and then sat down in one of the chairs.

  “Thank you, Gwen,” the man said. “That will be all.”

  She nodded and then turned to Finn. “I’m afraid I haven’t gotten that coffee for you yet, I’ll—”

  “It’s okay,” Finn said, feeling like she had enough on her plate. “Another time perhaps.”

  She smiled, but this time her eyes didn’t sparkle beneath the solitary light. They were tinged with worry. If anything, Finn would have said they were filled with sadness.

  Gwen left, closing the door behind her, and then the man spoke from his chair.

  His voice was soft, as though he had been through a terrible shock. “I’m Stewart DeGrey,” he said.

  It was then that Finn caught a slight whiff of something. He couldn’t be certain, but it appeared that the man had been drinking.

  “I’m Chief Constable Robert Collins,” Rob said. “I’m sorry we are meeting like this. Are you Maggie DeGrey’s…”

  “Husband,” he said, his voice quivering.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Winters said. “I’m Inspector Winters and this is Finn Wright, a consultant detective working with the investigation.”

  “Consultant?” the man said quietly. “I must ask that everything here be dealt with in the strictest confidence. I thought I would be dealing directly with the constabulary.”

  “You are,” Finn assured him. “I’m a special agent with the FBI…” He hesitated for a moment, not sure if that was even true any longer. But he continued, nonetheless. “I have experience with cases like this, and so the Home Office has asked me to assist. Please rest assured that I am governed by the same confidentiality as any other officer here. In fact, if I were to divulge anything to the press, my country would make certain that I paid dearly for that. You have my word that everything here will be handled as discreetly as possible.”

  Stewart DeGrey looked at Finn for a moment and then nodded, sinking further into his seat. He placed his head in his hands. “I’m not sure what I can do. Have you found the driver yet?”

  “No,” Winters answered. “But we’re continuing inquiries.”

  “I don’t know how much more our family can take.” His voice almost broke into a sob.

  Finn was taken by surprise. The man was being far more forthcoming than he would have expected, and far more emotional, too. He thought he’d be dealing with that famous British stiff upper lip. Finn wondered there and then if it was all an act to gain sympathy, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Mr. DeGrey,” Finn said, “we have to share with you that we think it’s at least possible that Maggie was killed on purpose.”

 

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