by Blake Pierce
Cassie looked at the sleek, shiny train and felt suddenly bereft. She wished she didn’t have to say goodbye.
One by one, she hugged the children.
“Antoinette, I am so glad for you. I know you’re going to have the most amazing time with Josephine, and you’re such a strong person.”
“Thank you. You are too, Cassie. I was so hateful to you because I was unhappy, even though I wanted to be your friend,” Antoinette whispered.
Marc strutted up to her and held out his hand. Cassie took it, and nearly started to cry when she found Marc had given her one of his prized toy bulls.
“Will you come and visit us, Cassie?” he asked.
“I will. I promise.”
Ella approached shyly, and gave Cassie a folded piece of paper.
“I made you a drawing,” she said. “It’s of the sun, because whenever I think of you, I think about sunshine. Thank you for looking after us.”
Cassie blinked tears away while hugging Ella.
“I will always remember you,” she said to Ella with a smile.
After all the goodbyes, the family boarded the train, and Cassie watched, waving frantically as they waved back, until the train had disappeared from sight.
Cassie headed back to the SUV, thinking of her plans, but as she climbed inside, she picked up the trace of a familiar scent that made her go cold all over.
It was the sharp sandalwood tang of Pierre’s cologne. As she breathed it in, Cassie felt her skin pucker into gooseflesh.
She remembered how Pierre had pushed her down onto her bed, his fingers gripping her shoulder, whispering threats into her ear to force her to stay quiet.
With shaking fingers, Cassie buzzed open the window and let the breeze blow through, wishing the memories would leave as easily, but they had never been more vivid and she felt as if she was reliving the awful scene.
He’d been so confident, so calculating. His expression of triumph at her helplessness had sickened her. In her terror, she’d blanked out all the details of what he’d said, but now his words came flooding back. He’d told her that he knew she’d been in his room, and that he had photographic evidence of her snooping and searching and opening drawers.
Photographic evidence?
Cassie pressed her forehead on the steering wheel, thinking about what he had threatened, and realizing the enormity of what those words actually meant.
She didn’t think they were empty threats. The certainty in his voice, combined with the fact he’d basically described her actions, pointed to another alternative—that Pierre had a hidden camera in his room and he’d caught her on it.
It would be impossible for Cassie to plead innocence if it existed. She had only one chance left to find it and if she could, she had to destroy it. Otherwise, she was sure Pierre would follow through on his threats and use the footage to incriminate her as soon as he had a chance.
She sat there, debating.
On the one hand, she had to leave the country before Pierre was freed.
On the other, she had to see if there was any real evidence against her.
Finally, she turned the wheel and hit the gas.
Leaving the country would have to wait.
She had to take one last trip back to the hated chateau.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
There were two housemaids working in the kitchen, but the upper floor of the chateau was quiet, and Cassie couldn’t hear any sounds from the guest wing, or the children’s bedrooms, as she made her way to Pierre’s bedroom.
You have to do this, she told herself. You have to find what’s there before he uses it against you, because he will.
She looked around the room, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, hoping that if Pierre had a system set up, it would be easy to find. She didn’t know how much time she had. Pierre could already have briefed a private investigator on what to do and where to look. The investigator could even be on his way.
Her first idea, that there were CCTV security cameras set up in the room, was wrong. There were no visible cameras.
What about hidden ones, though?
Cassie scanned the walls, wishing she had a better idea of what the cameras might look like, or how high up they would need to be placed. Pacing round the room, nerves churning inside her, she tried to approach the situation logically.
The camera, if there was one, would have filmed her searching the secret drawer. So it had to be mounted on a wall, with a view of the bed.
Turning to stare at the bed, Cassie started to wonder whether the camera’s main function had been security at all, or whether it had been there for another reason.
Perhaps Pierre had enjoyed filming his kinky exploits, so that he could relive those scenes over and over again.
In that case, the walls on either side of the massive bed would be the best place to hide a camera.
Looking closely at the magnificent oil painting on the right hand wall, Cassie noticed a darker patch in the midnight-blue pool in the center of the artwork. Light reflected off it, the way it might shine off a glass lens.
Cassie lifted the oil painting off the wall, noticing it was easy to remove, and that there were two gaps in its canvas.
Cassie leaned closer, her heart hammering as she saw the alcove in the wall. The video camera behind it was a small, state of the art model. The bigger gap in the canvas accommodated its lens, but there was a tiny gap, the size of a fingertip, that allowed access to the Record button.
“He used this for his sexploits,” she said aloud, horrified by the thought. She wondered if Margot had known. What footage was on here? Well, she was going to find out.
She removed the camera carefully from its alcove. Its battery was dead, but there were two spares in the alcove with it, and the second one she tried had some charge left. So this was not a permanent surveillance camera. The footage would be based on the battery life, which she guessed would be a couple of hours at most.
How did it work?
Sitting down on the bed, Cassie unfolded the view screen and turned the camera on. She navigated to the menu and found the stored videos.
There were four films loaded on the memory card.
Cassie started with the fourth and oldest one, and as the crystal-clear footage began playing, she gave a cry of surprise.
Pierre was moving away from the camera, smiling. He must have just turned it on. And on the bed, with a black blindfold over her eyes and her hands tied together behind her back, was a curvaceous woman with porcelain skin and long, red hair.
“When was this taken?” Cassie asked aloud.
She could hear the incredulity in her own voice. Pierre had brought another woman into his bedroom. Was this redhead his mistress, Helene?
She didn’t want to watch any more of that video. Instead, she checked the date and raised her eyebrows in surprise as she saw it had been filmed just a week ago. Margot must have gone out, and Pierre had sneaked the redhead in here.
He must have taken the opportunity to do this before Cassie had arrived. After all, having an au pair in residence meant another person in that bedroom wing, which would make it more difficult to smuggle anyone in.
Cassie moved on to the next video, grimacing as she found herself watching the awful strangulation scene she’d spied through the keyhole. The crystal clear screen showed every detail of Margot’s struggles and to her shock, she realized it also recorded very accurate sound.
Shaking her head, she stopped the video. She didn’t want to watch another moment of this footage.
The third video was of her.
Cassie saw herself walking in, looking nervously around, and proceeding to search the room. She looked terrified and furtive, and as she lifted out the bondage equipment, she faced the camera and there was a clear picture of her shocked face.
She was sure Pierre had gotten a cheap thrill from it, and it had certainly provided him with the information he needed. He could have shown these photos to the police and they wo
uld have compromised her badly.
Cassie watched right through to the end and then she firmly pressed the Delete button. No matter what happened, there would be more opportunity for blackmail. The evidence of herself in this room had been erased.
With the third video deleted, the fourth image sprang onto the screen, and Cassie tensed as she looked down at it.
It was of Margot.
Margot was dressed in the turquoise coat she’d worn when she died. She was sitting on the bed and staring directly at the camera.
“What the hell?” Cassie whispered to herself.
This was the most recent footage on the camera, and it must have been taken on the night Margot died.
She was saying something. Carefully, Cassie turned up the sound, not daring to breathe as Margot’s angry voice filled the room.
“You bastard,” Margot slurred, staring at the painting with narrowed eyes.
“You didn’t think I knew this camera was here, did you? Of course I did, I’m not as stupid as you think I am. I don’t believe what you tell me, either. Gone to the chalet for the night? Oh, I don’t think so. You’re with one of your girlfriends, I know all about them. Perhaps you’ve taken Cassie somewhere, if you didn’t get your fill of her earlier. Or maybe this time, you’ve gone to Helene. Don’t pretend to me you’ve stopped seeing her. You’re still calling her, I’m sure. You’re a lying, cheating bastard, Pierre, and I regret the day I met you.”
At that moment, Margot stopped her rambling and turned to stare at the bedroom door, as if she’d been interrupted by a sound.
Dread sent icy fingers down Cassie’s spine.
This was where she would walk into the picture. She was certain the door would open and she’d be standing there. Memories churned in her brain. Fragments of a fight, and the way Jacqui had felt in her dream as she’d shoved her. The scream she remembered, as sharp and shrill as if she’d heard it while she was awake, and the uncontrollable feeling of her own anger.
The boundaries between reality and imagination had been blurred for Cassie, but the camera would have recorded every detail in sharp focus.
Cassie steeled herself to watch, wondering if she would be able to handle seeing herself commit a murder.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Cassie watched the screen, clutching the camera with cold hands, fearing the worst as the seconds ticked by.
The bedroom door remained closed and she let out a slow, trembling breath as Margot turned her attention back to the camera.
Margot must have heard Cassie when she’d sleepwalked to the door, but she hadn’t come into the bedroom and that filled her with sick relief.
Margot continued with her diatribe.
“I know you’ll never let me leave. Your massive ego won’t allow it. You’ll never let me be successful again in my career. I’m so sick of you, and your lies, and your desperate need to control everything in your life. I’m tired of all of this.”
Margot stood up, swaying slightly.
“I can’t be bothered to fight you. So I’m going to end it, and guess what?”
Margot stabbed her finger at the camera.
“It’s your fault. You’re to blame. And I hope you feel guilty knowing you were responsible.”
Cassie’s heart hammered in her throat.
“No, Margot, please don’t. Don’t do it,” she pleaded, even though she knew it was already too late.
“Goodbye, Pierre,” Margot said.
Cassie clapped her hand over her mouth in horror as the blonde woman stumbled out of the bedroom and climbed onto a balcony chair. She balanced on the railing, swaying for an endless moment, and then fell, diving down into the darkness and disappearing from the picture.
“Oh, no, oh my God, no, I can’t believe this,” Cassie muttered.
She put the camera down and rubbed her eyes furiously, pressing her hands over them, wishing she could erase the vivid imagery from her memory. The resigned fury in Margot’s demeanor and the desperation in her voice were chilling.
Margot had killed herself, and filmed it, to exact a twisted revenge on Pierre. And he had never found out about it. There hadn’t been a chance for him to view the latest footage stored on the camera; he hadn’t known that last recording had been made at all.
Cassie’s eyes opened wide again as she realized this recording proved Pierre’s innocence.
It proved, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that Margot had in fact committed suicide, and that cleared Pierre of all suspicion.
She remembered what Marnie had said earlier. You could do the easy thing, or you could do the right thing.
The easy thing would be to put this camera back behind the painting and pretend she’d never known it was there.
The right thing would be to take it to the police.
Then Cassie started wondering about what would happen if she did.
Pierre had been reluctant to sign the children over to their aunt, even with the charges against him. If he was cleared of all charges, Cassie was certain he would renege on the agreement and carry on with his life. The children’s happy future with Josephine would be cut short and they would return to the chateau. Helene would move in and the toxic cycle would repeat itself. For Pierre, it was all about power. The children gave him status as a family man in the community and their presence back home would help him to rebuild his reputation after being unfairly accused of the crime.
Cassie had seen how scarred, how damaged the three were. This was their only chance at a better life, in a more stable home, with an aunt who loved them dearly.
She could do what was easy, or what was right.
But perhaps there was a third choice, the hardest one of all, which would be to do what was best for everyone, and that would be to erase this footage.
To delete it from the camera, and remove the memory card so that no backup could possibly remain. To dispose of the card somewhere else, to drop it into a dustbin at a shopping center or flush it down a toilet so that it disappeared forever and no trace of it was found.
Cassie found she couldn’t breathe as she considered the implications.
If she did that, Pierre would have to face his charges, even though he was innocent of them. He might well be found guilty of a crime he never committed. He could spend a long time in prison—a life sentence, at worst, and he would have signed his children into someone else’s care.
And Cassie would be committing a crime herself by destroying this evidence. She could certainly go to jail.
Cassie’s lips tightened as she remembered how Pierre had almost raped her, how he’d threatened and assaulted her, the helpless fear she’d felt in his presence knowing that he could, and would, do as he pleased. She thought about the threats he had made to others and how scared they were of him, and how even people in the community were frightened of speaking badly about him, though they had reason to.
The way that the chateau staff tried desperately to be invisible around him because he felt entitled to do as he pleased and take what he wanted. How he’d been cheating on Margot and had made her so miserable that she couldn’t see a way out. He’d abused her emotionally and she had killed herself, seeing no other way to escape. She’d wanted Pierre to pay for what he’d done to her but the ironic twist to her actions was that if he knew about this footage, he’d be getting off scot-free. That wasn’t what Margot had intended, and it wasn’t even fair.
Then, most importantly, there were the children to consider. They had certainly suffered abuse at his hands. They were being brought up in a toxic environment that was all about control, rather than love. Now they had the chance to make a new life, a brand new start. They could heal, they could move forward, they could learn to function as normal, happy family members again.
Cassie would have to take the responsibility, and bear the guilt, for this decision for the rest of her life.
Could she do it?
Cassie hesitated for a while, wondering at the circumstances that had led her to t
his undiscovered footage, which had the power to change the course of so many lives in so many ways. She thought about imagination and reality, and how blurred their boundaries had become in her world.
“Decision time,” she said aloud, and she was suddenly sure what the right course of action would be.
Quickly, before she could debate it with herself any further, she pressed the Delete button and erased the footage from the camera.
With that single touch, Margot’s last words were erased forever, her secrets locked in the past.
Cassie found the memory card and removed it, shoving it deep in her pocket. She’d throw it out someplace where it would never be found, when she was far away from here.
She replaced the camera in the alcove, hung the painting back in its place, and smoothed the bedspread where she’d sat so that it looked as if she’d never been there at all. Then she walked out of the room.
She’d feared that she would feel tormented by guilt after what she’d done, but she felt strangely peaceful, as if justice had been achieved.
As she turned around, she thought she saw a flash of turquoise—but looking again, perhaps it had been a reflection of light in the window.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, and closed the door.
NOW AVAILABLE!
ALMOST LOST
(The Au Pair—Book Two)
“A MASTERPIECE OF THRILLER AND MYSTERY. Blake Pierce did a magnificent job developing characters with a psychological side so well described that we feel inside their minds, follow their fears and cheer for their success. Full of twists, this book will keep you awake until the turn of the last page.”
--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Once Gone)
ALMOST LOST is book #2 in a new psychological thriller series by USA Today bestselling author Blake Pierce, whose #1 bestseller Once Gone (Book #1) (a free download) has received over 1,000 five star reviews.
When a divorcee vacationing in the British countryside puts out an ad for an au pair, Cassandra Vale, 23, broke, still reeling from the ruins of her last placement in France, takes the job without hesitation. Wealthy, handsome and generous, with two sweet children, she feels nothing can go wrong.
