Chapter Seven

When they returned to the house, everything seemed as usual. They were both relieved to see Herr Grunewald was sitting in the library.

“Ah, my friends!” he said, waving as they came through the main entry. “How was your day?”

He obviously wanted company. Carly looked at Luke, who nodded and smiled. They were both simply glad to see him. He had a drink sitting next to him, perhaps a shot of good Scot’s whiskey, but he didn’t seem to have touched it yet.

“Our day was intriguing,” Carly said. “It was filled with beautiful scenery, but you know that.”

“You’re home early, and I’d have thought you’d be exploring till dark. Glad to see you for a bit, though, my friends. I do miss our dear Miss Nelson! She would so often join me here,” Grunewald told them.

“She sounds lovely,” Luke said.

Grunewald reached for the drink at his side. Carly looked at Luke and then made a dive to take the drink from the man’s hands.

Maybe she hadn’t thought it through, but she reasoned if Moore was following a Holmes’s design, he might have had the elderly man with no family sign over his estate to him already.

Clayton Moore has already come back here. He said he had an appointment. Grunewald didn’t expect us to come back so quickly. Likely, Moore didn’t, either. And if we’re back and there is something in the drink...

It will look as if an elderly gentleman naturally passed away, his heart just giving out!

“My dear girl!” Grunewald said, confused. “I assure you—”

“I’m so sorry, Herr Grunewald. But there was a bug or something floating on the top. I’ll just see about getting you a new one.”

“Drinks are in the kitchen on an honor system,” Grunewald said. “Of course, Clayton and Ben always see to my comforts, so—”

“Since I’m here, I can see to them!” Carly said, smiling.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Luke said.

He followed her into the kitchen, and she wasn’t sure where they’d go from there. The contents of the glass needed to be tested, but without being obvious and perhaps destroying any chance of discovering the truth, she wasn’t sure how they were going to make that happen.

“Give me the glass,” he said after he’d followed her into the kitchen.

“But—”

“Seriously, just hand it to me.”

She was surprised when he took the glass from her after pulling a vial from his jacket pocket, carefully ducking down low and indicating she should shield him since there might well be cameras in the kitchen.

She did so. “I’m telling you, there is something floating in the glass!” she said in case they were, indeed, being filmed or recorded.

“I’m looking at it, but I don’t see it. But then again, you’ve seen the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Oh, will you stop!” she said angrily.

“Right. I’ll stop. Now I need to pay for another drink!” he said, setting the glass in the sink and reaching to the cupboard for another one.

“I can pay for it! I’m employed, too, you jerk!” she snapped.

“Stop! I’ll just pay for it! Now, as to the liquor...”

“If you’d bothered to read the brochure, you’d know it’s in the cabinet next to the refrigerator,” she told him.

He found a bottle of whiskey and hesitated, saying, “You may be right. It might have been the bottle, but here...here I’ve found a new one, and I shall open it.”

She noted he had found a sealed bottle of whiskey far behind the one in front, and he studied the seal as he opened it and poured another shot into a glass.

He turned to her. “Okay, ye who read the brochure, where do I leave the money?”

“Right there,” she said, indicating a dish on the side of the sink. Luke dug into his pocket and looked at her. “Five pounds,” she told him. “Hey, you don’t have to leave a tip.”

He made a face at her and headed back to the library with the drink in his hand.

Carly thought she should pour drinks for herself and Luke—except that she didn’t trust anything in the kitchen now, despite the fact she had watched Luke break the seal. And they didn’t need to be impaired in the least, not that one drink should do so, but under these circumstances...

Still, it was more than likely they would soon be joined by either Clayton Moore or Ben Pratt, and she wanted to give the appearance of the two of them joining Herr Grunewald for his nightcap.

She brought out two empty glasses and added a bit of water to each, the perfect stand-in for a clear liquor.

She had barely made it back into the room, handing one to Luke and keeping the other for herself and finding a seat in one of the library’s comfortable stuffed chairs, before Ben Pratt came in, smiling away. “Everything fine with everyone? Ah, wonderful. I see the two of you have availed yourselves of the bar. There you go, Herr Grunewald. Companions to drink with again! Enjoy.”

“I shall enjoy and allow this lovely couple to escort me to my room,” Grunewald said. “I feel the need to rest, but I do enjoy my sip of whiskey each day!”

“And we will be delighted to walk you up to your room!” Carly assured him.

Grunewald finished his drink. “Shall we?”

“As you wish, Herr Grunewald!” Carly said, rising. She took the glasses. “I’ll just run these back into the kitchen. We want to be good guests!” she told Ben Pratt.

“You don’t have to do so, lass. I can take care—” Pratt began, but Carly was already rushing through the library and dining room. In the kitchen, she quickly rinsed the glasses as if there had been something in them, left them in the sink and hurried back.

Ben Pratt was watching Grunewald, but he made a great pretense of smiling at her as she returned. “Well, I offered my services, but the gentleman is quite smitten—and I’m not at all surprised. Mr. Kendrick,” he told Luke, “you are a lucky man.”

“Indeed, I am,” Luke said, “most of the time!”

“Jerk!” Carly said sweetly. “Come, Herr Grunewald. I would love to take your arm!”

She did so. Smiling at Ben Pratt, she began to escort Grunewald from the room and toward the stairs.

Luke, she knew, was right behind her. Thankfully, Grunewald’s room was just two doors down from the one she and Luke had been given.

“Sir,” Luke told him. “If you need anything at all...”

“Ah, son, not to worry. These men tend to me well.”

“But we’re here, too. And just down the hall. Shout if you need anything at all. I sleep very lightly,” Luke offered.

“As do I,” Carly promised.

Grunewald was pleased and he smiled as he nodded his thanks.

“Lock up, sir!” Luke said.

They left Grunewald after hearing the click of his lock.

Carly swirled into Luke’s arms to whisper to him, “Does that do any good? They have keys to every room.”

“Time to bring in the troops.”

“We don’t have anything yet.”

“We have your vial.”

“And it may be full of good Scot’s whiskey.”

He smiled at her. “I have it covered. It’s only about eight. We haven’t had dinner, and for youngsters our ages, it’s early.”

“But what if one of them—”

“We’ll only be taking a chance of a few minutes.”

“That’s all they’ll need.”

“No, conjecture, yes, but I believe they’re expecting the man to drop dead of a heart attack. The police will be advised he died during the night. No one had any idea he was having a heart attack. They’ll leave him until morning,” Luke whispered back, holding her head close to his, running his fingers through her hair.

She smiled at him. “What’s happening in the library?”

“We have a friend coming by to see about a room. Someone we can meet and with whom we can have a lovely chat while we’re turning the vial over to him. First, our room.”

She smiled, nodded and suddenly admitted to herself that even amid all this, she really liked the man and liked the closeness they were playing now. First it had been just fine on her part, and now it seemed as if things had moved on to good.

“Right. Our room,” she murmured.

They headed down the hall.

“Looks fine, right?” he asked softly.

But Carly had a feeling, though nothing looked disturbed, that Ben Pratt had been in their room. Of course, maids were employed to clean the rooms; their bed had been made and fresh towels had been brought in.

Maids didn’t play with a guest’s luggage.

They weren’t supposed to, at least.

She had left her bag a certain way, and she was sure that Luke had, too. She had put her gas mask in her shoulder bag along with her Glock when they’d left that morning, but she was certain Luke had also come prepared for a gas attack and she wasn’t sure how he could have hidden his mask.

Looking around the room, she determined to just ask him. That meant coming close again.

She slid into his arms, locking her hands around his neck. “Gas mask?” she asked.

“Smallest available on the market. In my jacket all day. And yours...?”

“I think he’s been in my luggage, but I had mine with me as well. Someone was in my luggage. I know because some clothing has been moved but certain clothing hasn’t been disturbed.”

He leaned back slightly, arching an amused brow to her. “Ah, you don’t think that man would enjoy pulling apart a wee bit of lacy underwear?”

She smacked him lightly, but she almost laughed aloud.

“Trust me. I know my packing.”

He nodded, his expression sobering. “Library.”

She curled against him again. “Isn’t it late for a guest to arrive?”

“Nope. Not really. And not someone who didn’t realize they were going to need a room after they became fascinated by the sights at Urquhart Castle.” He pressed his lips against her temple and whispered, “Campbell is on the way himself. He sent people out immediately, and I just received his text that he’s on his way here.”

“I keep feeling...” she murmured.

He looked at her, arching a brow. “Feeling...”

“I know that we’re not from here, that—”

“You think we should be out in the woods,” he said.

“They know the area. We know Hamish. What I’m afraid of, of course—”

“Is that there is no hope for Mary Nelson and we might yet save Herr Grunewald? We’ll get on both,” Luke promised.

She believed him. She smiled at him then with determination. They’d known what they were coming into; they’d studied the infamous career of H. H. Holmes while knowing that the site on the dark web would attract different types of twisted behavior within sick and criminal minds.

“Library!” he said. His lips moved near her ear again. “Glock and mask?”

“Still on me,” she assured him, patting her bag.

They headed out, Luke pausing to glance at Herr Grunewald’s door for a minute. They couldn’t just break it down and drag the man away. Even if they told him the truth of what they were after and suspected, he was so enamored of his hosts he probably wouldn’t believe them.

“Library,” she reminded him.

He nodded, looked at her, grinned and offered her his hand.

She took it.

They went down the stairs together, walking into the library.

They were just in time. The door to the grand entry opened and Brendan Campbell—out of his usual business attire and wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater—came walking determinedly into the hall.

“Hello? Please? I don’t have a reservation, but I need a room for the night, if you can help me, please?”

Ben Pratt was at the registration desk and he quickly replied to him.

“Sir, over here. We usually require reservations—”

“Please, young man, if there’s anything available, I truly need a room. I should have gotten a driver for the trip! This has really been too much for me.”

He was playing the part of an elderly or sickly gentleman well. Carly was impressed. She left the library, heading quickly to the desk.

“Sir, you look as if you could indeed use some rest.” She looked at Ben Pratt and grimaced, appealing to what she would naturally think was his kind and decent nature.

“Ben, maybe, if there’s nothing else, we could let this gentleman have our room,” she told him.

“Oh, no, no, that won’t be necessary. I believe we have a room free and cleaned—” Pratt began.

“I’ll take a dirty room!” Campbell told him earnestly.

“No, we had a vacancy the other day. I’m sure it will be fine. Room four. Sir, just up the stairs. Oh! There’s a small lift.”

“Thank you, thank you, young man,” Campbell said. By then, Luke had joined them by the desk.

“Hello, I can only imagine that you are with this kind and lovely lass, sir. Would you be so good as to go to my car for my bag? I parked the car a bit close to the road, but my bag is a wee one, not much trouble!”

Carly lowered her head to keep from smiling. Luke would surely place his evidence vial in Campbell’s car and the contents of the vial would be tested.

An inspector would be near, ready to take the vial from the car and test the contents. Meanwhile, Campbell would stay and hopefully make sure that no one approached Herr Grunewald to strangle him in dismay that the poison hadn’t worked.

And they could head out to the woods and subtly engage the help of their new spirit friend, Hamish of Inverness, and find Mary Nelson.

“Not a problem at all, sir. Happy to oblige,” Luke said, heading out.

“I can do that—” Ben Pratt began.

“No big deal. I’ve got it!” Luke assured him.

Carly turned to Brendan Campbell and offered him her hand. “Carly MacDonald, sir.”

“A Scot?” he inquired, as if puzzled.

“An American of Scottish descent, sir,” she said. “We’re happy to meet you. And you will so enjoy staying here! The house is wonderful, as are Mr. Pratt here,” she said, inclining her head toward Pratt and smiling, “and the owner, of course, Mr. Clayton Moore! Luke will get your bag for you and bring it to your room. We were thinking of heading out for a bite to eat, if you’d like to join us,” she added.

“Ah, lass, thanks. I’m a bit weary. I do appreciate the invite,” he said.

“We’ll see you at breakfast, then, sir,” she said, heading to the door and waiting while Luke brought in Campbell’s bag.

“I’ll run this up!” he told them all.

“Thank you—I’ll hop in the lift,” Campbell said. He turned to Ben Pratt. “And thank you, thank you, so much. I do need a rest. No family, you see, and I should have hired a driver with my...wee problems,” he finished.

He was, beyond a doubt, playing the part of a man with one foot in the grave—and Carly had to admit, she hadn’t expected it from the staid and überprofessional Brit!

“Night, sir!” she called.

She and Luke were out of the house. He paused as they stood at the entry, pointing toward the trees that surrounded the castle.

“We’re not by the area behind the castle,” Carly reminded him.

“No, but we are in the Highlands. Roads around twist and curve to create the best routes through the rugged geography.”

“You’re thinking that there may be a path—a long path, but a path—that leads from the castle area here?” she asked.

“It’s possible.”

“It is, yes, of course. But if so—”

“It’s accessed through the basement—where we haven’t managed to be yet, or even find, for that matter. I couldn’t find stairs when we’ve walked through the ground level. I believe that they want to kill Grunewald not for the enjoyment of it, but because he’s probably left his property to them, or to Clayton Moore at least, or maybe the other way around.”

“The lift,” Carly said.

“Pardon?”

“This is a Georgian house, not built as a castle or fortress of any kind. There wouldn’t have been a dungeon, but, yes, there would have been a basement. The lift has been installed in the past ten to thirty years, perhaps, whenever the home was first used as an inn or a bed-and-breakfast. Luke, we haven’t been in it—it may be the only access to the basement now.”

“There must be something else somewhere, but you’re right—the lift might well lead down,” Luke said. He was quiet for a minute. “Let’s take this from the opposite side. Go back, be anxious, really anxious—that is, if Ben Pratt is still down there alone. Get him to follow you out here and into the woods.”

“What?” She stared at him quizzically. “I know upon occasion it would be cool if we could just beat the crap out of a suspect, but—”

“I’m not going to beat anyone. But we can lie—and trick him into telling us the truth.”

“You mean offer him something so that he’ll turn on Clayton?” Carly asked.

He nodded. “Time is not on our side,” he said. “Carly, think of the terrain. Mountains, hills—even caves, possibly tunnels, natural or man-made. Ben is the weaker of the two, or so it appears from his personality and the fact that it’s Clayton Moore who owns the property. See if you can draw him out—I’m heading due east of the property, toward the woods around Urquhart. I’ll text Campbell so that he knows what is going on.”

“Right. Go!”

He ran off into the woods surrounding the house. Carly gave him a chance to disappear and then raced back into the house. As she had hoped, Ben Pratt was still behind the desk alone, doing something at the computer. When he saw her, he shut it down.

Very quickly.

“Carly, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Luke! Oh, Ben, I don’t know what he’s doing! He said he saw something in the woods, and I don’t know where he went—it’s like he thinks he’s a cop or something. He said people had been disappearing around here, and he could see something that might lead to why. He has me terrified, and I don’t know how to find him. It’s getting dark and I know that it will get even darker and I’m so scared—”

“He thought he saw something?” Pratt demanded.

“Yes! Something that has to do with people disappearing! I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to do. He’s not... I’m scared, so scared! I mean, we fight all the time, and there are days when I wonder what the hell I’m doing with him. But I don’t want him hurt. I don’t know what he saw and what he thinks that he can do—”

“Nothing!” Pratt said, and he couldn’t disguise the anger in his voice. He quickly collected himself, though, and said, “I’m so sorry, Carly. Of course I’ll help you. We’ll find him.”

He came around the desk, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Which way?”

“This way!”

She started ahead of him, leaving the house and heading toward the eastern edge of the property and the trees that surrounded it on ground level, but then became part of a rising slope that joined into the higher rises around them. He chased after her and she wished she knew a little better which way through the almost nonexistent trails Luke had chosen to go.

“Which way, which way,” she murmured aloud.

“He said that he saw something. What did he think he saw?”

“Blood on a tree, I don’t know! He was suddenly convinced that he saw proof of something bad happening, and he’s such a fool!” Carly complained worriedly.

He stared at her for a moment and turned, and when he began walking, she saw that the path he was following was more of a trail than the ground on which she had earlier taken some of her twists and turns. She wondered how far they were from the castle and thought that it couldn’t be more than a couple of miles.

She dug in her bag for her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to try and call the idiot—”

“No service here,” he warned her.

“Oh!” She slid the phone back in her bag.

In truth, she hadn’t been making a call. Just setting her phone to do what she needed it to do!

This was a trail that had been recently used. Ben Pratt knew it well.

Had Clayton Moore taken Mary Nelson from her tour of Urquhart and the surrounding grounds back through the forest? It was easily walkable for anyone who was in fit shape, and from what she understood, Mary Nelson had been young and certainly fit.

“Get up here with me!” he snapped.

She looked at him with surprise, and he quickly changed his tone. “Sorry, this ground can be rough, rocks beneath trees...mountains have faults, and there are holes in the ground everywhere, and you must be very careful.”

“Of course!”

Minutes later they came upon a jagged outcrop of rock and Carly instantly noted that there seemed to be a black gaping hole beneath it.

Darkness was coming on. She thought that it might be time to simply draw out her Glock.

But to what end? She had nothing on the man as of yet.

“Is he the exploring kind?” Ben Pratt asked her.

“He’s stubborn as they come. If he thought that he was on to something—”

“Okay, come on. I’ll help you down.”

He was looking at her differently now. There might have once been a plan, get a fight going between her and Luke, the angry couple taking off in different directions, no one knowing where they were going after the murderous duo had gotten from them whatever they wanted.

But Luke had been on to something.

And the way that Ben Pratt was behaving and speaking...

He was taking it on himself to get rid of them both now, before they could cause trouble. Maybe he had tried to contact Clayton to let him know that a few of their guests had gotten unruly and he needed help, but she hadn’t seen him draw out a phone.

Maybe he thought that Clayton would blame him for the situation and, therefore, he needed to handle it himself as quickly as possible.

“I’ll help you down there.”

“Oh, I don’t know! Luke is the exploring kind—”

He took a step toward her. “I can help you,” he warned her, his voice different than it had ever been, “or I can throw you!”

“Rude! Rude, rude, rude!” she muttered.

“It’s dark down there.”

“I have a little penlight—just go!”

She still had nothing on the man, but she was entering a stygian darkness with him, and the biggest mistake an agent could make at this point was not to be wary and aware that he might strike at any minute.

But Luke was out there—close. He was either watching what was going on...

Or maybe he was in the hole already.

“All right, all right! I don’t know what is going on with you, but you are being rude!” she snapped and, turning quickly, held her bag close to her chest, slid down on her rear and then the last few feet down into the absolute darkness of the hole.

Luke heard the shifting of the earth as someone slid into the dark cavern within the cliffs and heights and rocks of the terrain.

He quickly turned out his own light.

He couldn’t be seen, not yet. He might need to move quickly, but he wanted something that proved positive that Ben Pratt was involved in this...

Whatever exactly this was.

He hadn’t been down long. And he wondered if he ever would have found the small dark opening in the rise of rock and wood so close to Loch Ness if it hadn’t been for Hamish of Inverness. He’d been startled to run into Hamish almost instantly when he’d left the house, curious that the ghost was so far from where they had met.

“Ah, laddie, not far at all, the way the crow flies,” Hamish had told him.

“Ah, well, I’m grateful to see you. I think there must be something here, something that perhaps connects to the Georgian house—”

“A tunnel?” Hamish asked him curiously. “But wouldnae such a thing be seen?”

“No, it would just be an opening in the rock and appear to be nothing more than formation. Do you know about—”

“There is a rise o’ rock this way, my friend. Come, follow me.”

Hamish hadn’t known exactly where the opening was, but once they had reached the area, it hadn’t been hard to find.

And they had barely come down into the darkness before he heard Pratt and Carly—and heard the way that Pratt was now talking to her.

He intends to kill her,Luke thought.

But not happening.

Hamish was silent, which didn’t matter, of course. If he spoke, Pratt wouldn’t hear him.

But he could let Carly know that they were in the cave, near, and that he was ready to step in when needed.

A second disruption of the earth sounded, with bits and pieces of rock and earth falling. Then there was light; Ben Pratt had a penlight on him.

Luke flattened himself against the cave wall, but Pratt didn’t turn toward him. “I believe he’s this way. Come on, my luv. We’ll find him.”

“I don’t like this. It’s a cave and—” Carly broke off. Her dismay was real.

There was a smear of what appeared to be blood along the cave wall.

Pratt instantly pulled a knife.

“Shut up and move!” he told her.

She shook her head and looked terrified—not a hard stretch in the damp and eerie darkness of the cave—though Luke knew she was likely faking it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Making you come with me.”

“With a knife?” she cried. “I thought—I thought that you liked me! Clayton is going to be furious. I know he likes me. He’ll be down here and he’ll stop you!”

That brought a flow of laughter from Ben Pratt. “Are you kidding me? He likes you all right. He wants to play with you awhile before...”

“Before he kills me?” she whimpered. “Oh, my God! You did kill that poor girl, that woman that Herr Grunewald was talking about.”

“Oh, she may not be dead yet,” he said, shrugging. “Clayton liked her, too. Oh, you want to meet her? I can arrange that.”

Hamish suddenly spoke softly.

“Lassie, we’re here! The lad and me, we’re here!” he said.

Ben Pratt suddenly shivered, as if he’d felt something, but he apparently shook off the sensation. Carly didn’t move a muscle.

She had heard.

“Come, luv. I’ll introduce you!” Pratt said.

“Why would I come with you to be tortured before you kill me?” Carly demanded.

“Oh, let’s see. Because you think that lover boy is around somewhere and will save you.”

“Wait, wait...others! You killed them, or Clayton killed them?”

“We are true partners—we take turns killing. You’re just going to disappear. Poor Herr Grunewald. I’ll be calling the police myself when the boy is found dead of natural causes, heart attack, poor old bugger! But...come on. You’re a lively lass. Play the game, and you may live awhile. You may dream of escape! A chance is better than me stabbing you in the heart right this moment, eh?”

“You’ll introduce me to Mary,” she said bitterly.

“Aye, if she’s still breathing, that is. But she’s young and strong and...maybe.”

He gripped her arm.

Luke thought she lowered her head and smiled.

She knew Luke was behind her, and he had amazingly found help from a long-dead Scot. She let him take her and lead her...

With any luck, to Mary Nelson.

Who might, hopefully, still be alive.

But Luke didn’t trust the man in any way, shape or form.

His Glock was out as he silently followed the two through the tunnel, the furious spirit of Hamish of Inverness right at his heels.