by Rebecca King
“Could it be mistaken identity?” Justin asked of his colleagues.
“Maybe, but why would he choose victims with dark hair?” Angus growled.
“Oscar’s family say he was a scallywag, but I have never had any complaints from that village, so can’t rightly say. He was otherwise happy in himself and gave nobody any suspicion that he was going to do something rash. He was on his way to deliver some goods for the baker when he disappeared. His cart was found in the middle of the lane, still fully loaded, but with the lad nowhere in sight. He hasn’t been seen since.”
“How long has it been since he vanished?” Justin prompted.
“About a week now.”
“Timescale for all of them?”
“The first disappearance happened three weeks ago. Then there was one a few days later, and so on and so forth. There has been one or two every week. Then there was Felicity today.”
“What about the other victims?”
“The second female victim in Derbyshire was a young woman called Wendy Michaels. She disappeared on her way home from church. Her father stayed behind to talk to the vicar. She went home to begin to prepare dinner. When her father got home there was no trace of her. He is still waiting for her to return,” Weeks replied sadly. He paused when he realised the men were all staring at him and knew what they were going to ask.
“She is about five and a half feet tall, aged one and twenty, and has light brown hair.”
“But it is brown,” Justin prompted.
“Well, it is light brown it says here,” Weeks edged.
“But it is brown,” Justin repeated.
“Well, yes,” Weeks, replied weakly.
“Did she disappear the same week as Oscar?” Angus asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s it then,” Justin sighed.
Weeks nodded. “That’s it.”
The men absorbed the information for a moment. When nobody asked any more questions, Oliver slammed his notebook closed and looked at Justin.
“Thank you for that,” he murmured politely.
“What happens now?” Weeks asked, looking at each man in turn.
“We are going to need somewhere to stay,” Angus declared. “Do you think the tavern will be able to accommodate us?”
“You don’t need to stay at the tavern unless you think it would help the investigation. You are quite welcome to stay here. I don’t mind saying that the villagers will be wary of everyone and might keep an extra eye on you if you stay anywhere near the tavern. It would hinder your ability to move about at will without witnesses, if you know what I mean? Besides, at least here, you are making it clear you are connected to the magistrate and will be able to come and go without hindrance,” Weeks offered. “I have plenty of room.”
“I think it would be best if we stayed in the tavern, if only so we can listen in on some of the gossip going around but thank you anyway. It would help if we are able to get some of the locals talking, and to do that we have to be there. Our presence might put them at ease, especially when they realise we are just like them,” Oliver replied.
“I agree,” Angus growled.
Justin nodded. While the magistrate’s house was nice, it was a little too stuffy for his tastes. It was almost too highly polished and not busy enough for his peace of mind. Of course, he occasionally enjoyed rare moments of peace as much as the next man, but as far as he was concerned if a man was supposed to enjoy the deathly silence of the magistrate’s house then he might as well be in a box, six feet under.
“Well, if you are sure,” Weeks murmured hesitantly, a little put out that they hadn’t accepted his generosity.
“Please leave this investigation to us from now on. We will keep you updated, of course, but only when we have something worth reporting. If we don’t tell you anything it is because we don’t have anything to say,” Callum warned.
Justin nodded. “Also, don’t tell anybody who we are. The villagers will be curious for a day or two, but it will ease. We will keep our distance from them most of the time and will spend time in the tavern only when we need to. They can ask their questions of us directly.”
Weeks frowned because he felt himself being pushed out, as though his experience and knowledge was a mere triviality. When he opened his mouth to object, and looked at Justin, he caught the looks the man shared with his colleagues and felt even more of an outsider. The men seemed to be able to communicate with the briefest of twitches, and just a look here and there. It was most disturbing, and made Weeks feel more insignificant than ever.
Jasper pushed to his feet and stood beside Justin. “In the meantime, if you hear anything from the magistrate in Derbyshire, or anything else happens, just send for us. Someone will always be at the tavern in case you need our assistance.”
Weeks nodded but was prevented from replying by the all too familiar chiming of the ironwork on the front gate. With a jerk, he spun around and peered out of the window.
“Damn it,” he grunted when he saw a prim, all too familiar, young lady stalk almost regally toward his front door.
“Who is it?” Jasper asked, unable to see for himself from his position before the fire.
“Miss Clarkson. Do you want me to allow her in, or should I arrange to go and see her later?” Weeks asked making no attempt to move to the door.
Angus looked at the men in turn, who then all looked at Justin. Justin sighed because he knew then that he was honorary leader of this particular investigation. He wondered if his colleagues had timed their silent vote so he couldn’t argue, but now was not the time to ask.
“Fine,” he sighed, well aware of the smug looks that passed between his colleagues. Unfortunately, far too late to retract his words, he watched Weeks stalk to the door. It appeared that Weeks had taken his agreement as acceptance that he should allow Miss Clarkson in.
“This is your lead,” Oliver whispered, settling back with a somewhat smug air of satisfaction.
“Go into battle, my good friend,” Angus taunted with a grin.
It was going to be highly amusing indeed to see his esteemed colleague felled by an outraged old lady, and so he settled back to watch what happened.
Justin was still quietly cursing them when the door opened. He turned around, but whatever he had intended to say disappeared instantly as he watched a stunningly beautiful young woman enter the room.
“Good God,” Angus grunted, launching out of his chair and tugging at his jacket as he turned to greet the lady.
“Good God indeed,” Oliver whispered, echoing the sentiments of the rest of the men of the Star Elite. He put his pad down and stood up.
Together, they watched the redoubtable Miss Clarkson stop beside the chaise and dip into a curtsey. They immediately realised that life – and the investigation – had just become considerably more difficult than any of them could ever have anticipated, not least because their new boss was just as struck by the beautiful young woman’s stunning good looks as they all were.
CHAPTER FOUR
Vanessa’s heart was hammering wildly as she dipped into a curtsey. These men were a powerful force, and a little intimidating, especially staring at her as though they were hungry, and she had a joint of beef in her pocket. Carefully, she schooled her features into one of polite enquiry, and tipped her chin up as she waited for Mr Weeks to join them. It was a battle to keep her face calm and impassive, but she managed it – or hoped she did because she had never felt so small and insignificant in her life. The urge to apologise for her intrusion was so strong that she opened her mouth to speak only to then remind herself that Mr Weeks had allowed her in. She had nothing to apologise for.
Sensing movement behind her, Vanessa whirled around and watched the magistrate take his time closing the door behind him.
“I didn’t realise you were busy,” she began.
She looked around the room. It was difficult to know where to move because the usually large room now felt tiny and cramped. The solid wall of
masculinity around her was daunting, and enough to make her glance about warily – until one of the men stepped forward and bowed politely.
“Please don’t let us interrupt you. We were just about to make our way to the tavern, but if you don’t mind would like to stay to listen to your interview with Mr Weeks,” the man closest to her declared suddenly. “Please do excuse me. My name is Oliver, ma’am. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Miss Vanessa Clarkson,” she replied cautiously, allowing the man to take her hand.
She looked at the magistrate for confirmation of who the strangers were, but the impassivity on his face was worrying. Before she could ask, Oliver edged her toward the man standing beside him. The round of brief introductions began, and they were brief because only first names were given. No titles were offered, or explanation as to what they were doing in the room, or why they wanted to stay.
Seconds later, Vanessa found herself looking up into the eyes of the last man to introduce himself. She opened her mouth to greet him as she had the others but quickly discovered that she couldn’t speak. When her eyes met his she seemed to fall forward somehow, deep into the dark orbs of his steady stare. That startlingly hypnotic gaze of his seemed to draw her in and hold her captive while they sought out her deepest, darkest secrets. She knew instinctively that he was different to the rest, not least because he was the most handsome. There was something about him that warned her he was in charge, and he would not take objection kindly. She wanted to take a step away from him. The magnificence of his presence was just so overwhelming, common sense and logical thought seemed to leave her.
Not a sound could be heard, save for her thunderous heartbeat which seemed to be trying to crash right out of her chest. She dipped into a curtsey, but to her surprise, watched the man nod coldly, not bow as she had expected him to do.
“This is Justin, our boss,” Oliver declared quietly from beside her when Justin didn’t seem inclined to speak.
He looked warily from her to Justin and back to her again, then realised someone had to do something or they were likely to be standing in awkward silence for the rest of the afternoon.
“Come and take a seat,” he urged, nudging the young woman over to the closest chair.
Maybe it would help if she was seated, preferably well away from Justin, he mused with a wry smile at the young woman in question.
While she made herself comfortable, Oscar glared at his colleague over his shoulder, prompting him to do something to break the tension between him and their guest. He was a little surprised by his colleague’s rudeness and wondered why Justin was so put out by her arrival. There didn’t seem to be anything about this young woman that could cause anybody any problem. She was polite, beautiful and well-spoken. Even so, something had irked Justin.
His colleagues had noticed Justin’s odd behaviour too, if their consternation was anything to go by. Tension began to build as everyone waited for Justin to speak.
Justin watched the young woman perch elegantly on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs bracketing the fireplace. He knew immediately she was trouble, but not for the reasons he had expected.
But then you had expected some nice old, eccentric old bat with a stern backbone and a bible in her hand, face it. This woman is beautiful.
Weeks, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, propped his hips on the table behind him and folded his arms in an almost challenging stance.
“Now, might I ask what this visit is all about? I hope you haven’t been annoying Mr Bennion again.”
Vanessa’s cheeks heated. “I am sorry if he is annoyed with my questions, but I am sure you will understand my eagerness to get my sister back as swiftly as possible. That is of more importance than my brother-in-law’s discomfort, isn’t it?” she protested. “Surely you should be finding out why he is so unsettled by my questions if he has nothing to hide, shouldn’t you?”
She watched Weeks’ cheeks flush and knew the man was angry, but he was prevented from venting his annoyance by the presence of the men who were watching with interest. Aware of their attention, Vanessa heaved a swift sigh.
“I am sorry, I don’t believe you gave me a reason for your interest in this interview,” she said to Oscar having flicked an angry look of distaste in Weeks’ direction.
“We are assisting Mr Weeks in the investigation of the disappearances,” Angus explained gently.
“Oh? Is Mr Weeks not capable of looking into it himself then?” she asked dourly.
Angus coughed around his smirk and ducked his head for a moment.
“Do you have any information on the disappearances?” Niall asked with a wary look at Justin, who had yet to take his gaze off the young woman.
If there had been any hint of appreciation in Justin’s avid glare, Niall would have given his friend and colleague a difficult time in the tavern later. As it was he sensed Justin didn’t like the chit, although he could see no reason why.
Miss Vanessa Clarkson could only be described as a classical beauty. With high cheekbones, a smooth, pale complexion and a knowing twinkle in her hazel eyes, there was something captivating about her, even though she appeared to be no more than two and twenty. He sensed she had a pleasing personality with a quick wit and steady maturity, but that would be something he would have to find out in time. Right now, it was difficult to tell just how pleasing a personality she did have given how she kept glaring at Justin.
“Do you two know each other?” he asked without thinking.
Justin glared at him, not least because it momentarily gave him somebody else to look at. He knew he was making a fool of himself. He would undoubtedly get teased for his stupidity later, when he was alone with his friends, but it was impossible to resist the invisible hold Miss Vanessa Clarkson had over him. Every time he tried to look away, he just couldn’t. His attention was locked solely on her, and there was nothing he could do about it. Intriguingly, the irritation he felt over his unwanted attraction toward her was not aimed at her, but at himself, for being so helplessly captivated by the first truly stunning young woman he had met in a long time. He had never felt like this about any woman before, and he didn’t like it – at all.
“I don’t believe so,” Vanessa replied hesitantly. She tried to keep her gaze averted, but could do little about her attention, which remained locked firmly upon him. So much so, she could positively feel every breath he took.
Don’t be such a fool, she sighed. Of course I cannot feel him breathing. What a ridiculous notion. I must focus on something else, that’s all.
That was easier said than done because when she tried, everything else faded and her attention was inevitably drawn to the person she was trying desperately to ignore.
“No. We have never met before,” Justin announced briskly. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he had no regrets over it either.
Vanessa felt her cheeks heat, which then prodded her annoyance. Defiantly, she squared her shoulders and looked at Weeks.
“I came to enquire if you have made any progress finding my sister,” she said.
“Miss Clarkson,” Weeks began. “I have told you before that you need to leave the investigation to us. As soon as we have any information to give you we will speak. Meantime, there is nothing more I can offer you.”
“So, am I to take it you have made no progress then?” It wasn’t a question. Vanessa made no attempt to hide her disgust. The look she gave him could only be described as condescending. “Well, I can tell you that I have made progress.”
“I beg your pardon,” Weeks growled.
His cheeks reddened beneath the force of his anger, but Vanessa was undeterred.
“It is unsurprising you have found nothing. You made it perfectly clear last time that you had no idea what is going on around here but had no intention of taking my views on my sister’s disappearance into consideration. I, therefore, did have the foresight to do something practical to locate my sister.”
�
��Have you found her?” Oliver asked in his usual calm and unflappable manner.
“Not yet, but I have discovered that my brother-in-law doesn’t expect my sister to re-appear,” she declared calmly but firmly.
The arrogant contempt on Weeks’ face as he glared at Miss Clarkson was disturbing to the men from the Star Elite, who all tensed. The unprofessional animosity from the magistrate was shocking but told them everything they needed to know about the man’s true character. Justin was glad now that this meeting had been held in Weeks’ home. The man was, if nothing else, in the place where he felt most comfortable, and was more likely to reveal his true nature – and he had.
When Weeks snorted and opened his mouth as if to condemn Miss Clarkson’s findings, Justin stepped in front of him, effectively silencing him. Justin then perched on the arm of the chair closest to her and forced himself to ignore the delicate scent of strawberries that teased his nose. There was little he could do about his voice, though, which unwittingly dipped and turned husky when he eventually spoke.
“What did you find out?” he asked quietly, his voice low and intimate.
They all watched her withdraw a small gold locket out of the purse she carried.
“What’s that?” Oliver asked as he leant closer.
“My sister’s locket. I saw my brother-in-law in town the other day,” Vanessa replied.
“That is hardly unusual, Miss Clarkson,” Weeks protested. “That doesn’t make the man guilty of kidnap. I don’t think it is even possible for a man to kidnap his own wife.”
“He could kill her though,” Vanessa challenged. “That is illegal, do you not agree?” She lifted her brows and met Week’s annoyed look with a hard stare.
“What does the locket have to do with your brother-in-law being in town? Surely, he can go wherever he wants without putting himself in any suspicious light?” Angus interrupted before Weeks completely lost his temper.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their heads that Weeks truly didn’t like the rather intelligent young woman who had done little more than challenge him to do his job. Angus knew he wasn’t alone in questioning why Weeks didn’t like the woman’s questions. If he was doing his job properly, and to the best of his abilities, he should have no problem with answering any questions Miss Clarkson put forward, especially given it was a member of her family who had disappeared. He knew Justin felt the same given how swiftly he had repositioned himself between the warring pair to act as a physical barrier before verbal insults began.