He entered Casa Grande through the back entryway, grateful that most of the hotel guests were listening to the conclusion of Miss Collins’singing program. He passed by the theatre room, where the crowd was congregated, and heard the thunderous applause as the soprano hit her final note. Picking up speed, Braeden moved down the corridor, past the intersecting hallway and the entrances to the library and dining room. All was ominously silent.
Reaching Rachel’s office, he called for her first, then knocked loudly on the door. There was no response. He repeated the process two more times before deciding to go outside to see if there was any light shining in the windows of her private quarters. But when the windows only yielded darkness, Braeden found himself at yet another dead end. Glancing around the front lawns, he wondered if perhaps she had taken herself to the pools or to a quiet place to think. The gardens were full of benches for just such a purpose, and Morita Falls boasted a scenic walking path with tables for picnic luncheons.
Moving out across the lawn to where the illuminated fountain glowed in the darkness, Braeden prayed to find her—prayed that she’d be unharmed and at peace with the events of the evening. If she could only find a way to hold on to her fragile trust in him, she would recognize that he had no feelings whatsoever for Ivy Brooks—at least not feelings that entailed any warmth.
He paused beside the fountain, his reflection in the water catching his eye. He looked hard and long at himself for several moments. His anger was evident, and his eyes were dark in their fury. Forcing himself to calm down, Braeden took a deep breath and tried to formulate a plan. He couldn’t just run from one end of the grounds to the other without any real purpose in mind. He should make a mental list and meticulously search from one end of the estate to the other. Time was of the utmost importance. While the days were still pleasantly warm, the nights bore a chill that could easily strike one down with illness.
Staring back at Casa Grande, Braeden watched as upper floor lights came on to indicate that the resort guests were retiring for the evening.
Soon the front lobby doors would be locked tight, and while Rachel had a key to the resort, Braeden was uncertain that it would be upon her person.
“I have to find her,” he whispered. “Please, God, help me find her.”
However, despite his avid search, Rachel was nowhere to be found. No one had seen her. No one had any idea where she had gone.
Finally, with the upper floor lights now winking off for the night, Braeden went into his office and closed the door. He needed to concentrate. Rachel had to be somewhere nearby. But where? He contemplated the matter for some time. Then, breaking Fred Harvey’s most important rule, he took himself into the dining room, back through the kitchen, and into the private parlor and dormitory hallway of the Harvey Girls. Curfew was ten o’clock, and since the hour was nearly midnight, all of the girls should be safely locked in their rooms. With this in mind, Braeden felt some confidence that he’d not have to be further accused of molesting yet another Harvey employee. His reputation was already suffering, and with Fred Harvey’s strict rules on propriety and honor, Braeden wondered if he’d even have a job once Esmeralda spoke out against him. After all, Harvey himself had arrived that evening by train to share in the celebration. He would no doubt preside over any dispute of such a grand nature. For the first time, Braeden realized he might lose his job or even find himself jailed. He shook his head. All of that was immaterial to finding Rachel.
He knew where Gwen Carson’s room was and made his way there as quietly as possible. Knocking lightly on the door, he continued to glance over his shoulder to make certain no one else had appeared in the hallway.
“Yes?” Gwen asked, opening the door wide. When she saw it was Braeden, she shrieked and pushed the door closed all but a couple of inches. “Mr. Parker, what in the world do you want? You aren’t supposed to be here!”
“I know, Miss Carson, and I do apologize. It’s just that Rachel is missing, and I wondered if you knew of some favorite place she might go.”
Gwen opened the door a few more inches. “Rachel is missing? What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story,” Braeden replied in complete exasperation. “Something happened tonight that upset her. I need to find her and explain.”
Completely taken in by this development, Gwen let the door fall open. “The only place I know she goes is the O’Donnell house. Mrs. O’Donnell is probably her best friend.”
Braeden felt relief wash over him. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that! Thank you, Miss Carson.”
He hurried back the way he’d come and ran out the front door of the lobby, mindless of the bellboy who stared at him in curiosity.
The O’Donnells lived just over the main bridge, and they were less than three blocks away from the Needlemeier mansion. It made perfect sense that Rachel would have gone here. Braeden knew of her love for Simone O’Donnell and of Jeffery’s deep abiding friendship for the woman he’d worked with. Braeden felt a small amount of relief in believing her to be there. She would be safe, and Simone would calm her down and help her to see reason. At least he prayed she would.
But when he arrived, the small clapboard house was dark and it wasn’t until then that he remembered Jeffery and Simone had been at the resort celebration. Knocking loudly, Braeden felt his anxiety mount. They were probably already in bed and completely exhausted from their evening. After all, Jeffery was still recovering from his incident from the night before. If Rachel would have come to them, they probably wouldn’t have even been here. Now his mind tried to logically conclude where she might have gone upon finding the O’Donnell house empty.
While he contemplated this, the door opened and Jeffery stood looking in questionable silence at Braeden. Without waiting for him to speak, Braeden apologized. “I know it’s late, but I’m looking for Rachel.”
“Rachel’s not at Casa Grande?” Jeffery asked, concern edging his tone.
“No,” Braeden said with a sigh. “Look, something happened tonight. Something awful—and Rachel thinks the worst of me. I have to find her.”
“Why don’t you come in and explain while I get dressed. Then I can help you look for her.”
Not knowing what else to do, Braeden nodded and followed Jeffery into the house just as Simone O’Donnell appeared. She had wrapped herself up in a dark blue dressing gown and was fussing with her hair as she came into the room.
“What’s happened?” she asked. Her gaze rested on Braeden as though she were trying to read his mind. “It’s Rachel, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Braeden said. “She’s missing.”
“I’m going to get dressed and help him look for her,” Jeffery stated, as though that would answer all of Simone’s questions.
“I’ll get dressed too,” she said. “Maybe I can help.”
“No, someone should stay in case Rachel comes here,” Braeden replied.
“Why would Rachel come here?” Simone asked, eyeing him sternly.
Braeden swallowed hard and tried to think of a delicate way to explain. In exasperation he ran his hand through his sandy hair, then plunged it deep into his pocket. His nerves were getting the best of him. “I was called to meet Mrs. Needlemeier at her house this evening. Only it turns out she didn’t send the note—her niece, Ivy Brooks, did the deed. Ivy, as you may well know, has been a thorn in Rachel’s side since the beginning.”
“I do know that much,” Simone replied, her expression revealing nothing but calm and the reassurance that she wasn’t jumping to conclusions. To Braeden, she seemed to be weighing all the facts and not reacting at all in a condemning fashion. It gave him the courage to proceed. “Ivy arranged for a seduction scene. It seems she wants—or maybe even needs—a rich husband, and she picked me for her victim. When I came to the house, she was as drunk as anyone could be and proceeded to disrobe. Rachel came in at a most inopportune moment, to say the least.”
“Why would Rachel be there?” asked Simone softly.
; “That was exactly my thought,” Braeden replied. “I mean, Mrs. Needlemeier coming in was no surprise at all. It is, after all, her home. But Rachel and Reginald Worthington had no reason to be there. It made me realize Ivy had set up the entire affair to come between Rachel and me.” Braeden felt a tightness in his chest. He hated feeling so out of control—so hopeless. “Look, I know she’s talked to you, but I don’t know how much she’s said. You know I love her, but this may well have destroyed any hope for our future, and I can’t let that happen. Trust comes hard for her—at least where I’m involved.”
“Rachel is a good woman,” Jeffery replied, hopping into the room as he struggled to pull on his boots. “She doesn’t seem the type to just jump to conclusions.”
“She is a good woman,” Braeden agreed, “but even good women have their limits.”
“Where could she have gone?” The question came from Simone, as though no one else might have thought of it.
“I had hoped she’d come here, but then I realized the ordeal took place earlier in the evening when you both would have been at the celebration. Rachel might have thought to come here but most likely would have found the place deserted. From there, I have no idea what she would have done. Has she spoken to you of someplace special to her? Someplace she might go for safety or solace?”
“The church might be a logical choice,” Simone replied.
“That’s a good idea!” Braeden replied. “And it’s just across the street from the Needlemeier mansion.”
“Come on,” Jeffery told him. “We can walk up there and check it out. If she’s not there we might need to wait until morning to do a more thorough search. Maybe the extra time will allow her to calm down and think things through.”
“Maybe,” Braeden replied, but he didn’t feel convinced. “But I can’t bear to think of her spending the night outside. The chill could be harmful.”
“Possibly,” Jeffery agreed. “But we don’t need to jump to conclusions. Maybe she’s safely spending the night with someone else. Maybe she went to pray at the church and the pastor and his wife urged her to stay with them. If she was as upset as you think she might have been, she might not have been capable of reasonable thought. Maybe the pastor just took charge and let his wife put Rachel to bed in their guest room.”
“Maybe,” Braeden replied, hoping that Jeffery was right.
However, when Rachel could not be found at the church, the parsonage, or anywhere in between there and the O’Donnell home, Braeden felt the bottom fall out of his world. Hope eluded him as he reluctantly agreed to wait until morning to begin searching in earnest.
Simone touched his arm gently as Braeden turned to go back to Casa Grande. “Rachel will consider the situation, and I believe she will know the truth.”
Braeden nodded in resignation. Maybe upon reflection, Rachel would realize his innocence. There was a chance it could work out that way, though Braeden feared it was slim.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Braeden finally said. “If she’s still not back in the morning, I’ll be heading out to search for her at first light.”
“I’ll be there,” Jeffery replied.
“What about your head?” Simone questioned her husband. “You probably shouldn’t be anywhere near a horse for another few days.”
Jeffery lightly touched his wife’s cheek, but his gaze went to Braeden. “I’ll be there.”
When Braeden returned to Casa Grande, it was two in the morning. With no sign of Rachel anywhere, Braeden’s frustration and misery mounted. It was only then that it dawned on Braeden that he might question Reginald Worthington about where Rachel had gone. Perhaps Worthington held the key to the whole matter if she had confided in him.
Braeden tried not to think of Rachel finding solace in Worthington’s arms. He couldn’t dare to react illogically in this matter—too much was at risk. Instead, he would simply go upstairs and speak to Worthington and state his case, plain and simple. With this in mind, he had reached the third step on the grand staircase when the lobby door opened behind him and in walked the very man he was going in search of.
“Worthington!” Braeden called out, going back down the stairs. “Where’s Rachel?”
“I have no idea, Mr. Parker. I’ve been searching for her ever since the fiasco earlier this evening.” He paused, and the look of contempt on Worthington’s face matched the feelings Braeden held in his own heart. “Besides, even if I knew where she was,” he added, “I wouldn’t tell you.”
Braeden balled his hands into fists but stopped short of raising them to Worthington’s face. “I did nothing wrong,” he managed to say, his jaws clenched tight. “That whole scene was Ivy’s concoction.”
“I suppose you might see it that way, but I think it probably appears otherwise to Miss Taylor. Now, instead of standing around arguing about it, I suggest we put together some sort of search party. It’ll be light in a couple of hours, and while I have to oversee the kitchens, I’m certain you can be spared from your post,” Reginald replied rather snidely.
Braeden grabbed Worthington by his lapels, and with his face only inches away from the Englishman’s, he whispered low and menacingly, “If you are lying to me, I’ll personally see to it that you never work again.”
“I say,” the startled man replied, “you needn’t take your anger out on me. You’ve brought these problems upon yourself.”
Braeden thought long and hard about punching the man squarely in the nose but instead tossed him backward so that he lost his balance and landed on the floor. “Just remember, Worthington, Rachel is my concern and my problem—not yours. Leave her alone.”
Worthington watched him for a moment before getting to his feet and dusting off his trousers. “You, Mr. Parker, are a ruffian of the worst kind, and if Rachel so desires it, I will do my utmost to protect her from you. Good-bye.”
Braeden watched him go, wondering when he’d ever felt this angry. There was nothing to be gained by losing his head, however.
And as much as Braeden hated to yield to Worthington on any matter, this was one of those few times he would do exactly that. Dawn would arrive in a few hours, and when it did, Braeden needed to be ready.
He decided the first order of business would be a change of clothes. He was still wearing his best suit on behalf of the grand opening, and it would never do to go traipsing around the countryside dressed in such formal attire. Opening the door to his office, Braeden turned on the lights, grateful that because of the resort activities the electricity had been left on instead of shut down at ten as was the routine. But no sooner had the light illuminated the room than Braeden found himself staring dumbfounded at the scene. Someone had ransacked his office—and from the looks of it, they’d done a pretty thorough job.
Papers were strewn all over the floor, his chair overturned and left in the corner, and every drawer of his desk had been pulled out and emptied. It didn’t make sense. He had nothing of value here. There were papers related to the hotel’s management, inventory, purchase orders, and payroll information, but all of the important things like actual payroll money, storage room keys, and anything of value were locked up tight in the hotel safe. What could the intruder have been looking for?
He squatted down and began picking up the papers. They were hopelessly mingled and would take hours to sort through. Braeden stood amid the disarray, trying to imagine what it all meant. As he thought of the note given to him by Ivy and of the scene she’d managed to set up, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was also responsible for this mess. Then again, someone had broken into Rachel’s office on more than one occasion. Perhaps whatever was searched for there was never found and the thief thought to find it in Braeden’s office.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he said as he set his chair upright. Beneath the leather chair, Braeden’s gaze fell upon a square piece of stationery. He picked it up and realized instantly that it was a program from the opera singer’s performance. How had that managed to get into his office?
Had the thief left it there? It seemed logical to think they might have. Shaking his head, Braeden felt a growing sense of frustration. It was like having all the pieces to a puzzle but being unable to figure out where they all went.
After beginning to clean his office, Braeden realized there was no time for putting the papers in order. It would have to wait until after he found Rachel. Rachel’s safety was more important than anything else. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.
Distracted.
The word seemed to echo in his head. Maybe he was meant to be distracted. Maybe the mess he’d found in his office was created to slow him down. But slow him down from what? Finding Rachel? The intruder couldn’t have known about Ivy’s arrangements—or could they? He thought of the evening’s events and realized that Ivy could very well have had many accomplices. She had incorporated the help of her maid at the mansion—why not additional help from her Harvey friends or other staff members of Casa Grande? Perhaps she had promised them money or something else.
He ripped off his tie and threw it on the bed in the adjoining room. Changing into jeans and a more serviceable shirt and coat, Braeden tried to figure out what it all meant. He uttered a prayer for guidance but felt no nearer to the truth. He recalled a verse in the Bible about seeing things through a glass darkly and thought it perfectly depicted his feelings just now. The images were distorted and unclear—the answers evaded his reach.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he murmured as he took up his hat, “but I’m going to find out.”
TWENTY-TWO
AS IVY SOBERED UP, the first thing she became aware of was her aunt’s imposing glare. The old woman glowered at her in such a way that it would have given her a headache—had she not already had one from the effects of the liquor.
Still, the fact that she’d managed to pull off her charade from the night before made the pain worthwhile, as far as Ivy was concerned. She had sketchy memories in places where the brandy had overpowered her senses, but for the most part she remembered everything— especially the look on Rachel Taylor’s face when she found Ivy and Braeden together.
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