Harris frowned. “I don’t understand, sir. Your maid is missing, and you are under the impression that she is here?”
Kendra studied him closely, couldn’t see anything beyond his confusion—or the appearance of confusion. Serial killers were chameleons. They adapted to whatever the situation called for, and lied without batting an eyelash.
“Where were you today, Mr. Harris?” she demanded bluntly. She’d be damned if she’d waste time being polite. Time. They were running out of it.
Harris flicked her a haughty look. “Are you accusing me now of murdering your maid, Miss Donovan? It wasn’t enough for you to insult me yesterday by suggesting that I went about murdering whores?”
“I want to know where you were today. I’m not too concerned if that insults you or not.”
Red tinged his cheekbones. “Your Grace, surely—”
Aldridge cut him off, his tone sharp. “I shall apologize for any insult, but please answer the question, Mr. Harris. Time is a factor here.”
The vicar gave a put-upon sigh and shrugged. He wouldn’t challenge Aldridge, Kendra knew. “I worked in my study in the early morning hours, and then rode over to the King’s Head, where I indulged in a pint. Mr. Hawkings can attest to my whereabouts if my word isn’t good enough for you.” He let that hang for a moment, but when no one contradicted him, he continued, his tone becoming even more brittle. “I returned home, had my midday meal. Later, I went riding.”
“You rode yesterday.”
Harris gave her a look that suggested she was an idiot. “What of it? That does not preclude me riding today, Miss Donovan. I recall pointing out to you yesterday that I ride most afternoons. This afternoon was quite typical, I assure you.”
“Did anyone see you or did you see anyone while you were riding?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t know if you saw anyone? What, were you struck by temporary blindness?”
His face tightened at her sarcasm. “You are being impertinent, Miss Donovan, and I do not appreciate it. I did not see anyone. Therefore, I have no idea if anyone observed me.”
“Where did you go riding?”
“The woods, the same as yesterday.”
“What time did you leave the King’s Head?”
“Eleven. Mayhap half past.”
Rose had last been seen around eleven o’clock. “And you came right home?”
“Yes.”
Kendra swung around to face Mrs. Harris, who was watching wide-eyed. “Is that true?”
She gave a frightened squeak. “P-pardon?”
“When did your husband return home today?” Kendra demanded impatiently.
“I shall not have you intimidate my wife, Miss Donovan!” Harris protested.
“I’m only asking her a question. I’ll leave the intimidation to you.” Kendra approached the woman, made sure to shift her body to block the woman’s view of her husband. “Mrs. Harris, what time did your husband return home? Was it eleven or eleven-thi—half past eleven? I need you to be specific.”
“I-I . . . think . . . half past,” she said faintly. “Yes. Yes, it must have been.”
“You need to tell me the truth, Mrs. Harris.”
“How dare you!” the vicar declared.
Mrs. Harris looked on the verge of tears. “B-but I am. I am not lying, I swear!”
“Miss Donovan, I believe we have what we came for,” the Duke said quietly. Kendra threw him a desperate glance. “Come, my dear.” He approached, took her arm, and steered her toward the door.
Kendra looked back at Harris, and thought she saw triumph in his eyes. “I am sorry I could not be of more assistance, sir.”
Asshole, she thought. But that didn’t make him a killer.
Aldridge gave her a concerned look as soon as they were settled once more in the carriage. “A half an hour is not much time to abduct the maid, Miss Donovan,” Aldridge pointed out gently.
“How far is the tavern from the vicarage?”
“By horse, a few minutes.”
“If it’s so close, why’d he take a horse? Why not walk?”
The Duke frowned and shrugged. “’Tis not unheard of, Miss Donovan.”
She supposed he was right. Hell, she’d known people who drove their car across the street rather than walk. Maybe Harris was like that. Or maybe he had another reason.
“And the tavern to the castle?”
“It would depend on the pace you set. Five minutes perhaps. Less than ten. As I said, scarcely enough time to snatch the maid.”
Kendra thought of the abduction cases she’d been involved in. A mother takes her eyes off her child for a minute in a crowded mall, and the child is gone. A teenager leaves a neighbor’s house to walk down the street and disappears. Minutes. Seconds.
She shook her head. “You’d be surprised how little time it takes to change a person’s life forever.”
Like Harris’s servant, Dalton’s butler was dumbfounded to open the door to the Duke of Aldridge.
“I need to speak with Mr. Dalton,” said the Duke. “Immediately!”
“He . . . he is not at home, Your Grace.”
Aldridge lifted his brows, every inch the aristocrat. “To me, Farstaff?”
The butler looked like he was going to faint. “No, sir! I meant, Mr. Dalton is actually not at home. He left for Barking to attend the estate auction at the Avery farm.”
“We are aware of Mr. Dalton’s journey to Barking. However, I am surprised he has not returned. When do you expect him?”
“I am not privy to Mr. Dalton’s plans for the evening. He may stay the night if he is too fatigued to travel home.”
“Does he do that often?” Kendra asked.
Farstaff had recovered his poise, and now gave her that slightly suspicious, slightly standoffish look she often got from the upstairs servants at Aldridge Castle. “Sometimes,” he said.
“What the hell does that mean?” she snapped angrily, taking a step toward him. The Duke grabbed her arm, even as the butler took a step back, offended.
“Miss Donovan—”
“We don’t have time for this. He needs to answer the goddamn question!”
Aldridge shifted his eyes to the butler. “Well?”
“Mr. Dalton is attempting to transform Halstead Hall into a stud farm. He often travels overnight or several days on business in that quest, sir.”
“Did he travel alone?” Kendra struggled to get her voice under control.
“Yes, miss.”
“Is that unusual?”
“No, miss.”
She stared hard at the butler. “A young girl has vanished from Aldridge Castle. She may be in danger. Could you tell Mr. Dalton that we need to speak to him as soon as he returns?”
“Yes, miss.”
Kendra didn’t like that Dalton wasn’t home. It was too damn convenient. But there was nothing she could do about it.
As they turned to leave, somewhere in the manor, a clock began chiming eight o’clock. Sweat dampened her palms, and her heart pounded. Rose had been missing for nine hours.
Tick, tock.
They went to Tinley Park, where the butler told them Morland hadn’t returned from London.
“Why did he go to London?” Kendra demanded, wanting to see if he’d repeat the story that Sam had told them, or if he would come up with something else.
The butler looked uncomfortable. “I-I’m afraid that I cannot say, miss.”
Aldridge said, “I would not want you to gossip about your betters, Adams, but I must insist that you tell Miss Donovan and me the truth.”
“I . . .” The servant cleared his throat. “Lady Anne is ill, sir. She had an . . . episode earlier this morning. Mr. Morland went to London to fetch a mad-doctor.”
“Did he take a coach?” Kendra asked. A coach would mean a coachman, and therefore an alibi.
“No, miss. ’Tis faster to go on horseback.”
“When did he leave?”
“Ten,
I believe.”
“That’s ten hours ago.” Two hours to London, two hours back. Four hours travel time, which would leave six in London, she calculated. “Isn’t it odd that he hasn’t returned?”
“I can’t say, miss.”
Aldridge asked, “Is Lady Anne better?”
“Much better, thank you, sir. Mrs. Marks calmed Her Ladyship. Unfortunately, Mr. Morland had already departed.”
“What set her off?” Kendra asked.
The butler frowned. “I do not know, miss. Mr. Morland was visiting his mother, and she became agitated. Mr. Morland was upset by the incident. He left for London shortly thereafter.”
There was nothing to do except ask the butler to give Morland a message to come to the castle when he returned. In the carriage, Kendra pressed a hand to her stomach, which was knotted in anxiety.
“I know this is difficult for you, Miss Donovan,” the Duke said. “But all is not lost. We must have faith that the girl is still alive. We must pray for that.”
Kendra bit her lip and said nothing. She remembered the rape and butchery that Lydia had endured before she died. I want Rose to be alive. She just wasn’t sure that was the kindest thing to pray for.
50
As they approached Aldridge Castle, Kendra saw what seemed like one hundred specks of light, flickering like fireflies in the darkness along the sloping hills and in the woods.
“They are still searching,” the Duke observed quietly. “There is still hope, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what to think. Was there still hope? A dark seed had taken root inside her, strangling any confidence that she might have over Rose’s fate. It left her feeling sick and shaken.
The coach clattered to a stop in the stable yard. Kendra didn’t wait for the footman to lower the steps, but threw open the door and hopped down onto the gravel. At least twenty men with lanterns milled around the area. She spotted Alec immediately in the center of the throng, his figure distinguished by his finer clothing—a sharp contrast from the roughly dressed men around him—and his air of authority.
As she watched, she had an eerie feeling of familiarity. This is the same. Not the clothing and hairstyles, of course. And there were no powerful LED flashlights, no dizzying strobes from nearby police cars, no thumping of blades from sleek helicopters as they circled the sky, their lights piercing the ground in an aerial search. There were no television crews or reporters covering the search, peppering her with impatient questions from behind the barricades.
But she saw the same terrible fear etched on the faces of the crowd; the same pungent odor of desperation and urgency; the same dread filling their gazes as they worried about what they might find at the end of their search. The accouterments of humanity may change, but its heartbeat remained the same.
Before Kendra had set out, Rebecca had insisted that she don what was called a spencer—basically, a jacket with a high neckline and long sleeves. The design reminded her a little of a modern-day shrug, because the material ended just below the breastbone, leaving the skirt of her gown exposed. Yet the jacket was no match for the chill of the night air, which easily penetrated the woven cotton and wafted up her skirt. She had to clench her jaw to prevent her teeth from chattering.
Alec spotted them. He finished giving instructions, then he and Sam shouldered their way through the crowd. Alec’s eyes were fixed on Kendra, intense.
“Did you learn anything?” he asked as soon as the two pairs met.
“No,” Aldridge answered. “The vicar was in the vicinity. Miss Donovan believes he had enough time to snatch the maid. I, however, am not so certain.”
“What of Morland and Dalton?”
Aldridge shook his head. “Neither were home.”
“We will need to have their whereabouts verified,” Kendra said, crossing her arms in front of her chest in an attempt to retain her body heat. “What’s happening here?”
“We have sent out the hunting dogs, hoping to pick up the maid’s scent. And Mr. Kelly and I rode out personally to nearby hunting lodges. There was no sign of the girl. No sign of any recent occupation.”
“The lass seems ter have vanished.”
The lass. The girl. The maid.
“She has a name,” Kendra snapped, turning on the Bow Street Runner. Her anger was irrational, she knew, but it filled her like helium expanding a balloon. “She has an identity. She’s not Jane Doe. Rose. Her name is Rose. She wants to be a lady’s maid someday. She . . . she . . .” Her breath hitched. Appalled, Kendra could feel hot tears surge into her throat. She pressed her face into her hands, as taken by surprise by the unexpected emotion as the men staring at her.
Alec made a low sound, and moved forward. Kendra stiffened for just a second when he took her into his arms, but didn’t move away, trembling so hard she might shatter.
“We know,” he murmured. “We shall find her, I promise you.”
But will she be alive? Kendra wanted to ask. But she doubted if she’d be able to formulate a sentence at the moment, and that shook her even more. She wasn’t the kind of person who lost control like this.
That reminder had her straightening, pulling away, already ashamed at her weakness—though she missed Alec’s warmth. Without it, her body temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
“I still need to interview Thomas. He’s the last person to have seen Rose . . .” Alive. The word was on the tip of her tongue. “Before she disappeared,” she said.
“Thomas ain’t around,” Sam told her. “He’s helping with the search. He said that the lass . . . that Rose gave him some bread and cheese when he came ter the kitchen earlier.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Aye. He didn’t see anything.”
“I still want to interview him.”
“Not tonight,” Aldridge said firmly. “I have no intention of letting you freeze to death out here in the stable yard, Miss Donovan.”
“Mr. Kelly and I will continue the search,” Alec said.
Aldridge nodded, “Very good. Come along, Miss Donovan. We must find Rebecca.”
As Alec and Sam melted back into the crowd, Aldridge took Kendra’s elbow, escorting her down the path that led to the kitchens.
For once Kendra appreciated the room’s sweltering temperature. She could feel her frozen muscles and tendons warming, loosening. The room was ablaze with light. Every candle, from the wall sconces to the chandeliers, was burning, and there was a strong scent of tea and coffee and baking bread in the air. The dinner had been served, Kendra realized, and at this hour, the staff would normally be in the process of cleaning up. But tonight, the dirty dishes and platters had been left stacked on the counters, pushed out of the way. Like the stable yard, the kitchens were teeming with activity. An informal assembly line had been formed, where the women made sandwiches and served hot beverages to the men who’d recently returned from the search.
Kendra wondered where Lady Atwood had taken her guests. Probably to one of the drawing rooms, laughing and drinking, oblivious to the fact that a young girl, a girl responsible for keeping their rooms clean, who helped prepare the food they ate, was at this moment suffering at the hands of a madman.
The thought made her angry, but she forced herself to put it aside. Anger was a distraction she couldn’t afford.
“Lady Rebecca!” Aldridge exclaimed. Surprised, Kendra glanced at one of the workstations where Rebecca, wearing an apron, was slicing slabs of ham off the bone.
“Duke.” Rebecca handed the knife to the maid standing next to her, and came around the counter, wiping her hands on the apron. Her gaze was anxious. “Have you learned anything new?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I could not attend dinner and listen to everyone prattle on about their nonsensical lives! And I would go mad if I sat alone and waited for you. At least here, I could be of assistance. Have you learned anything?”
“No,” Kendra answered.
The cornflower blue eyes were earnest as she reached over and placed a warm hand on Kendra’s arm. “We must not give up hope, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra wondered how often she’d hear that.
“Let’s go to the study.” Aldridge turned to the butler, who was hovering nearby. “Harding, please send up pots of tea and coffee.”
“At once, sir.”
Aldridge hesitated, then turned to address the room, which fell silent. “We are doing everything in our power to find Rose. If anyone should remember anything, any detail, regardless of how small, do not hesitate to tell me or Miss Donovan. Is that understood?”
There was a general murmuring of agreement. Rebecca took off the apron, and they moved out into the hallway. Kendra thought she heard the faint strains of the pianoforte, the soft tinkle of laughter.
In the study, embers glowed demonic red in the fireplace grate, the only light in the dark room. Normally, a footman would’ve been on hand to light the sconces and candles, and get the fire going again. But all available footmen had volunteered for the search.
Aldridge dropped down to one knee to put more logs into the grate and coax the fire back to life. Rebecca and Kendra took over the task of lighting candles. Afterward, Aldridge poured three glasses of brandy. “The tea and coffee will allow us a clear head, but this ought to take the chill away.”
Rebecca accepted a glass and sat down. “Tell me what transpired on your calls.”
As the Duke shared their journey, Kendra peeled off her spencer. She picked up a piece of slate. On the board, she began to create a time line.
“Rose was seen upstairs either at nine or nine-thirty. Around ten, she was asked to bring in vegetables from the garden. At eleven, she gave bread and cheese to Thomas.” She underlined that time. “Unless someone else comes forward, that’s the last time she was seen. Molly said she was supposed to help with the linens at one o’clock, but never showed. That’s a two hour window for her to disappear.”
Rebecca frowned. “The girl must have been taken right here in the castle. How the devil is that possible? Surely someone would have seen one of our suspects loitering about? The servants know Mr. Morland, Mr. Dalton, and the vicar. They would have seen them!”
A Murder in Time Page 37