Chapter Five

“There’s the museum at Aaron’s castle,” Luke noted.

“He had other guests, of course. Then, I believe, he truly made the effort to appear to be an open book. He let locals and those who had just heard about the place in to enjoy the ‘museum’ part of his castle. It made him look like a local hero, I guess? He didn’t charge for people to come in,” Carly said thoughtfully. She lightly bit her lip, shaking her head. “Do they know yet just how many victims he had in there?” she asked Luke quietly.

They were alone in one of the conference rooms with a large screen and video feeds from the castle, from the café and from any other security cameras that had been found and handed to the police by other businesses on the street nearby.

“At least six as it stands now, but—”

“There will be more,” Carly said sadly. “He was probably so generous because he could chat to those he just let in, too—and decide who might disappear without being noticed.”

“Probably,” Luke agreed. “Anything?”

“Well, people,” she said. “Aaron said Holmes had left right before I checked in. When I got there, I put my things in the room, looked for the camera I was sure he had hidden.”

“And you found it,” Luke said approvingly. “There are hours of blank film from your room, just opening up when you headed to bed.”

“Hey, modern-day. Have to watch your prey if you want to attack at the right time,” Carly reminded him.

“So true. What about the museum?”

She kept studying the footage and tried to remember walking through the museum. Her focus hadn’t been on other visitors, but she remembered a mom with her two boys, a young couple, and, yes...

“There was a man studying some of the shields,” she said, frowning. “Could have been someone,” she added.

“Close your eyes. I’m no hypnotist or therapist, but let’s try the go-back thing. You’re upstairs in the museum at the castle with your intent being to discover anything you can about secret rooms, doors, possibly tubes that could carry gas, chutes to the basement below...”

She looked at him for a minute and then closed her eyes.

“Is it cool in the museum, temperature-wise?”

“Pleasant. The air was just comfortable. Not cold, not hot. And I’ll give our heinous killer this—he created a pretty cool museum, too, with all kinds of shields, weapons—I’m sure the police are testing them all now—and articles used in medieval days. Toiletries, dishes, beautiful, jeweled chalices—all in glass-covered display cases. The museum stretched across the entire hall, the walls—all the ancient stone—covered with displays, and...”

Yes, there had been a few men, one with a girlfriend and one alone. And the one who had been alone had been medium in height and size.

Dark-haired.

“No mustache,” she said aloud.

“What?”

“Oh, you were right, closing my eyes... I remember the mom and her kids, a young couple, and a man, medium-sized, height and build, dark hair, no mustache.”

“Did he pay any attention to you?”

She shook her head. “No, he was intent on studying paintings on the walls. I don’t remember him paying the least bit of attention to me.”

“That’s suspicious in itself.”

“Pardon?” she said, confused.

He grinned. “Somewhere along the line, I’m sure someone informed you that you’re a beautiful young woman. Capable of a wonderful smile and natural charm—which you are great at laying on thick, by the way. If he made a point of not looking at you, that’s suspicious.”

“Well, thank you, I think.”

He laughed. “It was a compliment. Take it.” After his laughter, he frowned.

“What are you seeing?”

“He knows where the cameras are. He keeps his face averted.”

Carly studied the screen. “Run it back a bit.”

He did.

And he was right. The man was purposely keeping his face toward the wall.

“What do you remember about him?”

Carly pursed her lips and shook her head, angry with herself.

“I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was focused on what Aaron Miller might have built into the castle and where everything was and...I think I was more worried about what other young women might be staying there.”

“You don’t remember his face at all?”

“He kept his back to me—and pretty much to everyone else there—the whole time, just studying everything that was on the walls. What I can remember is...average, I guess? He was nowhere near your height, medium in build, good posture...”

“There has to be a better shot of him. I’m going back to the hours before you checked in. There should be a shot of him in the office somewhere, too.”

“Aaron said he was there. He didn’t say he was in the office.”

“True. Okay, but he had to have gotten up to the third floor somehow.”

“You know where I don’t think Aaron had any cameras?” Carly asked.

“The stairwells. The cops didn’t find any.”

“Right. He probably came up to the hallway by the stairwell.”

Luke rewound the tape, going back to the hours before Carly had checked in.

“This is going to take forever,” she murmured.

“We can see who is there by fast-forwarding—”

“But not too fast fast-forwarding,” she said.

He grinned. “Right.”

They went through the footage of the registration area first. Nothing.

No sign of the man at all, though they could see Aaron chatting with the young woman with her child, the young couple and Carly herself as she arrived.

“He didn’t come by the front entry,” Carly said.

“There’s another entrance. Somewhere. There has to be.”

“The walls surround the courtyard. You only have entry there if you’re a guest—in one way or another—because I assume if you ask to go to the museum, you could also get out to the courtyard. But you’re right—there has to be another entry somewhere.”

“The basement.”

“But the police have been crawling all over the place—”

“But they haven’t been looking for another entry. Still, other than figuring out how our Holmes got in and out—”

“We don’t know that’s the man who pretended to be Holmes. Like I said, no mustache.”

“Oh, come on, Carly! You glue one on, you peel it off!”

“True!”

“All right. Let’s say we think that’s him,” Luke said. “Let’s move on to the café footage.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Luke hit different keys on the computer they’d been provided.

“Here we are, the café.”

“But we are going to need to go through days and days and—”

“Fast-forward,” he said, grinning. “And remember, we’re not the only ones going through all this. And still...”

“Still?”

Luke looked at her. “If you see the same man who was at the castle, even though you didn’t get a good look at him, you might recognize him here.”

“Okay, so...fast-forward.”

He started doing so.

She laughed. “Slow down!”

“Not so fast fast-forward,” he agreed. “We do need to look at days of footage, but I want to start with when we found Peter Bond on the site. Right before the site disappeared.”

“It hasn’t come back up, right?”

“Not that we know of, and Jackson or Angela would have informed us all.”

“If this Holmes character really exists and he was in the area, how would he have taken the site down?”

“This guy knows what he’s doing,” Luke said. “All he would need is the right tablet or even a phone, if he’s as good as I think he is.”

“Are you good with computers?”

“Decent—but not on that level. Angela might be, or others here or back home, but...”

“Decent. That’s the best I can say for myself, too, I’m afraid,” Carly admitted. “Schoolwork, of course, social media when I was a kid, lessons.”

“It takes a special kind to manage the dark web,” Luke murmured.

“Earlier this morning—let’s start there.”

The café opened early—very early. They’d headed out around nine that morning—the café had opened at seven.

And people were in and out.

“Stop!” Carly said.

“You mean...the guy in the hoodie?” Luke asked, looking at the screen and frowning.

“Luke! Like you said, a mustache goes on and off. A suit goes on and off, and if you’re running around trying not to appear to be the same person—”

“Okay, okay. And you just may be right. He keeps the hood of that thing pulled over his forehead. He slouches, as if he’s trying to look younger, like one of the kids who might come in before school, or...”

He paused, finding a point where the man in the hoodie was at the register, ordering.

For a minute, he had to look up.

He was of medium height and was of medium build. His face was attractive, his smile, as he ordered, pleasant and charming.

“Luke.”

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s him. I couldn’t swear it on a stack of Bibles, but...”

“So, he was there this morning.”

“And go forward. He drinks his coffee at the computers. He...”

“He’s just going through motions there. Playing the part. Look, there he goes. He’s getting up, heading out. I need footage from the street!”

Carly realized her phone was buzzing. As Luke moved to reach for his own from his pocket, she saw they were both receiving texts.

They automatically looked at one another and then their phones.

Luke read aloud, “‘Arrangements being made for two tonight at small town near Urquhart Castle. Still on footage, please report, work facial recognition/other ID on this end. Contact again in an hour when final info coordinated on this end.’”

“We’re leaving again,” Carly murmured.

“But not right away. Carly...look.”

Luke was staring at the screen. He’d drawn up the footage from a bank across the street from the café.

And they could see the man in the hoodie leaving the café.

Taking out a small tablet and quickly working away at it.

“Could that be our pseudo-Holmes?” Carly murmured.

“We’ll point out our man to headquarters and head back to retrieve our things,” Luke said.

He was already on the phone.

“I’ll get Campbell,” Carly told him, rising to do so. She found the specialist in his office, busily studying his screen as she entered.

“Special Agent MacDonald,” he said. “We’ve taken away easy access to guns here, and I was thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we could outlaw hoodies!”

Carly nodded. “We’ve informed Jackson, and, yes, sir, I think I recognize the man in the hoodie from having been at Aaron’s castle as well. Jackson has—”

“I’ve received the info as well. I’ll be following you. I believe you’ll be going to Gordon House—not a castle but a Georgian estate. It’s near the ruins of Urquhart Castle, and we’ve still got a young man and three young women unaccounted for in the area.”

“We haven’t received the address yet—”

“There’s many a place near enough. Inverness is still a bit of a drive, but many people stay there when they’re going on to the loch or to view the ruins.” He looked up at her. “As I said, I’ll be following you. Inspector Billingham is on his way to join me. Not to worry—we won’t be obvious, but we’ll be near when we’re needed.”

“That sounds fine, sir—”

She broke off. Luke had joined her.

“We’ve a place,” he said briefly. “Sir—”

“I’ll be following,” Campbell assured him. “Discreetly.”

“Sir, I now have you as the number one on speed dial,” Luke told him. “Carly?”

She turned to follow him, and they headed out, ready for their next murder-castle assignment.

Luke had the phone on speaker as he and Carly drove to Gordon House.

“We have you going in as a couple,” Jackson Crow said over the phone. “Not married, just a couple. We think a young couple disappeared there, and there has been some paperwork we’re following up on, cash disappearances, and we think this fellow is playing on Holmes’s ability to get people to ‘invest’ in his wild schemes. So, play the couple mostly in love, but with the possibility of a breakup. Holmes managed to make mistresses of his marks’ wives. And, Carly, you need to play it as you did with Peter Bond, as if you might be available.”

“I can be a jerk,” Luke assured him.

“No stretch there!” Carly said, laughing.

“Hey!” he protested.

“All right, sounds like you’re well on the way,” Jackson said. “And needless to say, but I always say it, take extreme care. I’m going to suggest that you—”

“Sleep in shifts,” Luke said.

“That and never be anywhere when the other isn’t aware of exactly where you are and what you’re doing.”

“Of course, Jackson,” Carly said.

“And Campbell and Billingham are headed your way,” Jackson said.

“Yes, Campbell informed us.”

“Police in the area are aware of what’s going on. They’ve been perplexed by the disappearances that have happened—and annoyed that headlines like to stress the fact the Loch Ness Monster might be responsible. There’s a lot going on in the area—monster hunters searching for Nessie at an unusually high scale.”

“That works in a way. Good reason for tourists to be pouring in.”

“We’re working on an identity for the man who might be the founder of this Holmes Society,” Jackson said. “Good work on following the man from the castle to the café.”

“Thanks,” Carly murmured, glancing at Luke. He knew she was hoping she was right.

“We don’t believe the owner of Gordon House is the man, though, correct? This has been something ongoing?”

“You’re after one of his followers, we believe. And trust me, we’ve followed every disappearance and looked into every guest list at every guesthouse, hotel, hostel, you name it, anywhere near the last known locations of those who are missing.”

“Jackson, we know how good you are,” Carly assured him.

“You’ll be watching on two fronts. Clayton Moore, owner of the property, and Ben Pratt, manager. Moore is married, but his wife is in England most of the time, while he stays in Scotland. Pratt is from Boston and he was married, divorced, and strangely enough, no one has heard from his wife in six years. She disappeared from the face of the earth,” Jackson informed them. “The briefs on everything we know are in your emails.”

“Could they be working together?” Carly murmured.

“They could be,” Luke said. “Before he murdered Pitezel, Holmes had him convinced they were in on a scam together.”

“That would make me wary of being anyone’s partner,” Carly murmured.

“It is always difficult to fathom the human mind,” Jackson said. “And our reality is different since social media reaches the entire world we now live in. We need to get to the heart of this, and we’ll be working our hardest here, I promise, but we also need to value every human life. Oh, value every human life—that means your lives, too. But we have every safeguard in position, so just play it carefully. There are the best blueprints we can find in your briefs, but they’ve played out another of Holmes’s methods. They have work done, fire people, then have more work done so there’s no one out there who knows everything there is to know about the place except for the two men. Someone make sure to report every few hours—we have our teams working through the night here, as always.”

“Of course, Jackson. Thanks,” Luke said. “And,” he added, glancing at Carly, “remember to give us a bit of time—it’s about a hundred and seventy miles from Edinburgh to our destination.”

“Of course. But I’ve driven with you, Luke. You’ll be there in no time.”

Carly stared over at him.

“Hey, I’m a good driver!”

“Good and fast. Take care—remember you are on the other side of the road,” Jackson reminded him.

“Got you, Jackson. And don’t worry. I will follow all the legal limits!”

They ended the call. Carly was looking out the window.

She felt him glancing her way. “You are moving fast—but safely,” she said, grinning. “And the drive is kind of cool. It’s such a beautiful country!” she said. “The way the land rolls, the hills, cliffs, waterways! The nature here is incredible.”

“It is,” Luke agreed. He flashed her a smile. “We are supposed to be acting like tourists. We can enjoy that part of it. We’ll stop somewhere along the way to stretch and breathe, okay?”

She smiled and nodded. He found himself thinking again that he’d been assigned to a truly decent partner. She could roll whichever way they needed.

She could make him laugh.

And she wasn’t hard at all on the eyes.

“One hundred and seventy miles. Sure. We can take a break! Maybe we should have opted for a chopper or—”

“Nope. We’re American tourists. And driving from Edinburgh is something many tourists look forward to doing. We’re just exploring. We’re a lovely American couple about to have a tiff.”

“Now, that’s quite understandable,” she said sweetly. She was grinning, and he found he was laughing.

Not a bad partner at all.

He pulled off about halfway through their drive, having checked with his GPS for a place to see one of the fantastic waterfalls that fell along the cliffs and magnificent ridges that fronted Loch Ness.

It was good to get out of the car.

They walked on the rugged terrain to see the sight.

“Playing tourist isn’t half bad!” Carly announced.

“One day, maybe again, we can just be tourists,” he mused. “The beauty of the waterfall is spectacular.”

“We do have beauty, too, in America. In fact, there’s so much history and beauty just about everywhere I’ve been...”

“Yep. And if only the world can be peaceful so we can all share all the beauty and wonder,” he murmured.

“Back to the car,” Carly said. “Right now, there’s peace all around us here in the beauty of the Scottish Highlands. Except for any intended victims.”

“Back to the car,” he agreed.

He stopped for gas as they went along, and then it was truly on toward their destination.

“I think it gets prettier as we travel along,” Luke noted.

She nodded. “I have always loved the area. Of course, I came first as a child with grandparents who loved to tell the tallest tales.”

“Did they ever see Nessie?”

She laughed. “Of course! Well, at least in the tales they told they did. She was really a creature with gills—she didn’t need to get air—that’s why she can go deep and disappear and only be seen when she wants to be seen.”

“Well, their tall tales had logic,” Luke said.

“We’re near Drumnadrochit,” Carly murmured. “From here just a mile or so to Urquhart.”

“Near your ancestral lands?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Carly said.

“Spectacular glens and cliffs,” Luke murmured. “And there, ahead, our Georgian manor should be down that road and around a curve or two.”

“Nothing much out here, though we’re not far from a few small towns,” Carly commented.

“You know the area well.”

She shrugged. “I love the nature here, like I said. The glens are so peaceful and beautiful. And they can be...”

“Private and you can walk a long way without encountering another human being,” Luke offered. “Though I believe we’ll discover whatever they’re up to, it’s happening in the manor. That is a true page from Holmes’s book—hiring and firing workers.”

“There! I see it,” Carly said.

The house appeared to be at least ten thousand square feet, the typical rectangular structure with symmetrical windows, shutters and columns. A grand entrance embellished with a handsome arch. The structure itself was composed of brick.

“Built in 1755, after the Jacobite Rebellion,” Luke murmured. “Strange. I would have thought such a place would be surrounded by a national park or...or it would be owned by a historic society or the like.”

“Remember, we’re not in America. The ruins we’ll see at Urquhart date back to the twelfth century, with more building having been done up to the sixteenth century and, of course, some beyond. Supposedly, St. Columba visited here in the 500s and—”

“Saw a monster, yep,” Luke said.

Carly shrugged. “Seriously, Scottish history is really cool. And as you said, it always depended whose side you were on, who the victor was, hero, traitor, all wrapped up with all kinds of people coming in and...”

She broke off.

All kinds of people. Heroes, traitors, and now, when swords and shields had been laid down, just the occasional human monster.

Luke pulled into the horseshoe drive. Looking around, he saw the house was surrounded first by a lawn, and then by woods that stretched into darkness, the trees and greenery were so dense.

“Come, my love!” he said. “Time to check in.”

He looked up at the grand Georgian architecture, and he couldn’t help but remember Jackson’s words.

These places were like Holmes’s Castle, indeed, so it seemed.

And like the great Eagles song “Hotel California.”

For some...

You could check in.

But you could never check out.