by Rhys Bowen
Still smiling, Bronwen went back into the living room.
It was very early the next morning when Evan’s phone roused him from sleep. He staggered downstairs and picked up the receiver.
“Evan—are you all right?” He was surprised to hear Bronwen’s voice.
“Me? Yes, I’m fine, as far as I know. I’ve only just woken up. What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Early. I’m sorry I woke you, only I’m not fine, and I just thought maybe there was something in the food … .”
“You mean you’re sick?”
“As a dog,” she said. “I’ve hardly left the loo all night.”
“I’ll be right over,” he said. He scrambled into his clothes and ran up the high street. It was a misty morning and the milk float loomed like a ghostly specter as it crept up the street, making the morning milk round. The schoolhouse was barely visible through the fog. Evan ran across the school playground and let himself in with the key Bronwen had given him.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Bronwen said as he came into her bedroom. “It might be catching.”
“You look terrible. I’m phoning for the doctor.”
She nodded. “I feel terrible. But you’re fine and we both ate the same things last night, so it can’t be food poisoning.”
“I like that,” Evan said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “I cook her one meal and immediately she accuses me of poisoning her.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”
“It’s okay, love. You’ve probably just got a touch of flu. Would you like to try a cup of tea and some toast?”
She nodded. “I’m not sure if it will stay down, but I’ll give it a try. And could you make a phone call for me? I have to let the Office of Education know that they’ll need to send up a substitute for me today.”
“You’re lucky this is my day off,” Evan said. “See, I knew there had to be some advantages to working every other weekend.”
“Lucky me.” Bronwen managed a smile. “If the first meal didn’t finish me off, he’s got a chance to try again.”
Betsy sensed as soon as she entered the Sacred Grove that morning that something was wrong. Emmy had dropped her off at the entrance. “I’ve got some new prospects to interview,” she said. “Fascinated as I am by your particular case, I’m supposed to be compiling a body of evidence about extrasensory perception among Celts. Just one Celt isn’t likely to satisfy my professor at home. Let me know how your session with Randy goes today, won’t you? I’ll try to stop by later.”
Betsy passed nobody apart from Blaine at the security post until she had almost reached the spa, where her first duty was to check towel supplies. She stopped when she heard someone yelling.
“You! Girl! What’s your name—Betty?”
Lady Annabel, her hair for once not looking as if she had just left her hairdresser, came running down the steps. Betsy noticed that she hadn’t made up her face either.
“I want a word with you, Betty. Can you come up to my office, please?” Her voice was shrill.
“My name’s Betsy. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?” Betsy asked. “I loaded the dishwasher before I left last night and …”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not that.” Lady Annabel climbed the last of the steps at a great pace. “I wanted to ask you about your session with my husband yesterday afternoon.”
Betsy shot her a glance. Was she jealous? Did she suspect her husband of flirting with an attractive young girl?
“I didn’t have the session with him yesterday,” Betsy said.
“But it was down on his schedule. Bethan said you went down to Meditation to meet with him around four.”
“I did.” Betsy nodded. “But he wasn’t there. I waited around but he didn’t show up. After a while I thought that maybe something more important had come up, and I was supposed to be helping with dinner shortly. So I went up to the kitchen and decided he’d find me there if he wanted to.”
Lady Annabel pushed open the door of the admin building and swept in ahead of Betsy, not seeming to care that the door swung back into Betsy’s face.
“Why? What did he say about me?” Betsy asked with a tremulous voice.
“He didn’t say anything!” Lady Annabel’s voice rose almost to a shriek as she turned to face Betsy. “He didn’t say anything because he’s nowhere to be found!”
“You mean he’s gone?”
“Of course I mean he’s gone!” Lady Annabel snapped. “When he didn’t appear for dinner, I sent Michael to look for him. He found Randy’s desk with some notes about you scribbled on a pad, a half-drunk cup of coffee, and no sign of him. Nobody has seen him since midafternoon.”
Betsy couldn’t think what to say. What kept crossing her mind was that Randy was a rather gorgeous man and Lady Annabel was a chubby older woman. Maybe Randy had a good reason for slipping out for the night.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said, trying to be helpful.
Annabel gave her a poisonous stare. “If you’re as bloody psychic as they claim you are, then why can’t you bloody well see him and tell me where he is?”
“There’s no point in screaming at Betsy.” Michael came out of Mrs. Roberts’s office. “She obviously knows no more than the rest of us.”
“You’re all bloody useless,” Annabel snapped. “And you more so than the rest of them.”
“What do you want me to d-do?” Michael demanded patiently, blinking worriedly behind his glasses. “I’ve done everything I can. I’ve searched the grounds for you … .”
“Well, it’s not enough. Call the police. Get that policeman back here. He’s just spent the last two days annoying us. Now let’s see if he can do something useful for a change.”
“I don’t think you can call the police to report someone missing when it’s only been a few hours,” Michael said patiently.
“He went swimming and was swept away by the tide, I know it!” Annabel wailed hysterically.
“Just think for a moment,” Michael said in his low, reasonable voice. “It was low tide around five yesterday. There would have been no water in the estuary until almost dark. And he wouldn’t have walked out half a mile through the mud, would he?”
“Then where the devil is he?” Annabel demanded.
“It’s not going to help to upset yourself like this,” Michael said. “You’ve still got guests, haven’t you? You don’t want to scare them off.”
“Oh, bugger off, Michael, and don’t try to tell me what to do. You, of all people!” She changed direction and headed for the main staircase. “I’ve got a terrible headache. Bring me up some tea and don’t let anyone disturb me unless it’s good news!”
Betsy stood there, feeling embarrassed and awkward until Annabel disappeared. Michael gave Betsy a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that,” he said. “She flies off the handle rather easily.”
He began to walk toward the kitchens. Betsy walked with him, feeling great sympathy.
“Why do you let her talk to you like that?” Betsy whispered when they were alone in the passageway. “And why do you stay here if she’s so difficult? You’ve got an education, haven’t you? You speak posh and all that. I bet you could get a better job easily. With more money too.”
“That wouldn’t be hard,” Michael said, “as she pays me nothing except room and board.”
“Room and board? Why do you stay here then?”
Michael looked amused. “Didn’t anyone tell you? She’s my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“The resemblance isn’t exactly striking, is it? I’m the product of her first marriage, to Colonel James Hollister. She married him at eighteen—big society wedding. Had me then dumped us both and ran off with a race car driver.”
“Oh, it’s like something out of a film, isn’t it? Rather romantic.”
“Except if you happen to be me, left alone in that drafty old castle, brought up by a succession of nannies and a father who hardly
said two words to me in his life. He died when I was fourteen. As soon as I finished school, I sought out my mother again. The race car driver had killed himself by that time and she was working her way through a string of young and gorgeous men, of whom Randy is the latest. Unfortunately she was stupid enough to marry him.”
“I wonder why—” Betsy began, then stopped.
“Why he married her?”
“Yes, I mean she’s not—”
“No spring chicken? Not the greatest catch? She has a title and this property, but not much else. If he thought she was rich, he’s been sadly disillusioned by now.”
“It’s strange that he should just hop it, though,” Betsy said.
“He wouldn’t be the first one who’s done a bunk on her,” Michael said. “As you’ve seen, she’s not the easiest person to live with. Very possessive. And naive too. Easily taken in. All this psychic stuff. It’s her latest craze. She’s already been through acupuncture and Buddhism and God knows what else. She thinks that Randy can see her future for her and help her straighten out her present as well.”
“Don’t you think he can?”
“If you want me honest opinion—” Michael put his head close to Betsy’s “—I think he’s a big phony. Why else do you think I’m here? I interrupted my university course so that I could keep an eye on her. What with Randy and that accountant of hers, I wanted to make sure that the property was here for me to inherit someday.” He smiled at Betsy. “But don’t let it worry you. It’s not your problem. I’ll see you later. I’ve got to take her a cup of tea, and a couple of tranquilizers, I expect—even though she claims to be a devotee of only natural healing these days.” He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of resignation, then went into the kitchen, leaving Betsy standing alone in the dark hallway.
Chapter 11
There was a rumbling in the darkness. Evan came to consciousness and lay there, listening. Thunder? Outside his window the sky was still lit with stars. Not thunder then. When it came again, he recognized it for what it was—someone was pounding on his front door.
He grabbed his dressing gown and fumbled for the hall light, his heart racing. Bronwen, he thought. Bad news about Bronwen. She hadn’t seemed any better when he left her last night and he was worried, even though the doctor had dismissed it as probably nothing more than a twenty-four-hour bug—lots of it going around.
He opened the door. A small, waiflike figure, wearing an anorak over what looked like a white flannel nightgown and fluffy pink slippers, was standing there.
“Betsy? What on earth’s the matter?” he asked.
Her eyes were as big as saucers. “I saw him, Evan. I saw him,” she gasped.
“Saw who?”
“Randy. I saw Randy.”
“The man from the healing place? Where?” He leaned out of the front door, expecting to see a figure running from Betsy’s cottage, but the street was deserted.
“In my dream.”
“Betsy, what are you talking about?” He wondered for a moment if this was Betsy’s latest excuse to get into his house, but the terror on her face was genuine and she was shivering violently.
“Hold on a moment. Come on inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
She put out her hand and grabbed at his sleeve. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve got to get down there and tell them.”
“Betsy, calm down,” Evan said. “You had a bad dream, did you? Well, it was only a dream and your dad’s in the house, isn’t he? What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me, down to the Sacred Grove.”
“At this hour? Can’t it wait till morning?”
“No. I have to get down there now, because he’s missing and I’ve just found him.” Betsy’s teeth were chattering so violently that she could hardly speak. “And Emmy said we should take you with us, just in case.”
“Randy is missing?”
“Yes. Lady Annabel wanted to call you—she wanted to report him missing but Michael said you can’t just go calling the police when someone has only been gone for a few hours. And then I fell asleep and suddenly there he was and I saw the whole thing—him lying there and everything and I ran to tell Emmy and she believed me. She said things are often communicated to psychics through dreams and I should get you.”
Evan looked out of his front door and noticed a car parked by the curb with a figure inside it. He strode out to it. Emmy had the window wound down and was sitting there, bundled in a dark jacket and hood.
“What nonsense have you been putting into her head?” Evan demanded. “You’ve scared this poor kid half to death.”
“I think you should face the fact that this girl has strong powers. You should have seen the test results. She matched eight out of ten shapes. There is no way to fake tests like that. And if she has seen Mr. Wunderlich in her dream, then I think we had better take it seriously. I do anyway. I’m driving her down there now. I thought you should come with us, just in case.”
“Very well. I’ll get dressed,” Evan said. “And Betsy should too. She’ll catch cold the way she’s shivering right now.”
“The psychic experience often does produce intense physical side effects,” Emmy said, “but I agree. She should get dressed. We may be doing some climbing.”
A few minutes later they were driving in Emmy’s rental car down the pass to the coast.
“So what’s this about Randy going missing?” Evan asked. “You’d better fill me in on the facts.”
“I’m sure Lady Annabel can give you all the details,” Emmy said. “I showed up to pick up Betsy yesterday evening and found the place in turmoil. Nobody had seen him since the afternoon before. They’d searched the grounds. Annabel was in hysterics.”
“Wasn’t it just possible that he’d gone off somewhere on a whim, without telling anyone?”
“His car was in the car park. The security guard didn’t see him leave.”
Beddgelert was in darkness and sleeping as they passed through it. A lone cat slunk through the deserted streets of Porthmadog.
“It would have been more sensible to call first.” Evan was just realizing all the things he should have done, including making a cup of tea, as well as checking in with HQ, and he was annoyed at having been hustled into action by this forceful American woman. Emmy sat, tense and excited, staring at the road as she drove. “This will be a first for me,” she said. “I’ve done plenty of research, I’ve read all the books, but actually seeing a psychic experience taking shape. I mean, wow—is that mind-blowing or what?”
Betsy sat in the front seat beside her, huddled in her coat, still shivering. Evan was jammed into the inadequate backseat. The light of the dying moon gleamed from water on either side of them as they crossed the estuary.
At last their headlamps illuminated the wire mesh of the security gate outside the Sacred Grove. Evan pressed the buzzer and hardly expected a reply at this time of the night, but a voice answered almost immediately and at the barked “North Wales Police,” the gate swung silently open.
Lady Annabel appeared in a purple satin robe, looking pasty faced and dazed. Mrs. Roberts, in a sensible gray wool dressing gown, hovered behind her, like a faithful dog. “Now tell me again,” Annabel said as she came down the stairs. “This girl thinks she’s found Randy?”
“She had a dream,” Emmy said at the same moment that Betsy said, “I saw him in my dream.”
“The preliminary tests show she has strong psychic powers,” Emmy said. “I think we should take her seriously.”
“At this stage I’m willing to take everything seriously,” Annabel said. “I’m willing to grasp at any straw if she can only find my husband.” She grabbed Betsy’s arm. “Tell me what you dreamed.” She glanced up at Emmy. “Should we wake Rhiannon? Does the dream need to be interpreted?”
“About as straightforward as you can get,” Emmy said. “Tell her, Betsy.”
“I went into a cave,” Betsy said, “and I saw someone lying on the floor. It was dark in t
here and it smelled of seaweed. As I got closer, I saw that it was Randy—Mr. Wunderlich. He was just lying there. I went to touch him and I woke up.”
“A cave! Why didn’t we think of that? Of course. How stupid. Get Michael now. We need torches. Where’s my mobile phone? How did Randy look in this dream? Had he had an accident, do you think? We might need a doctor for him—should we call a doctor now? Do you think he was taken ill? Or fell? Or you can be trapped by the tide in some of those caves …”
She was rushing around, her arms waving like fluttering wings.
Mrs. Roberts stepped forward to restrain her. “Just a moment, Miss Annabel. You’re not going anywhere in your nightclothes. You go up and get some warm garments on and I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea.”
Annabel looked around in a dazed manner. “All right,” she said. “You’re right. I should get dressed first. And tea would be nice. Thank you, Mrs. Roberts. You’re so good to me.”
“Somebody has to be,” Mrs. Roberts muttered as she moved away.
“And please wake Ben and Michael for me,” Annabel called after her. “I need them to be here.” She ran up the stairs, her slippers flapping and her silk gown flying out behind her.
Evan looked at Emmy and Betsy. “Are there caves on the property?”
Emmy shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’ve only seen two buildings so far. This one and the meditation center, but I understand the property is huge.”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Betsy said. “It was ever so clear in my dream.”
“It has to be on the coast. You saw seaweed. That’s significant,” Emmy said.
“I could do with that cup of tea,” Evan said, “and so could you, Betsy fach. You’re still shivering.”
“I know,” she said. “I can’t stop my teeth from chattering.”
“I’ll go and see if I can help Mrs. Roberts.” Evan struck out in the direction of the kitchen. He needed something to keep him busy. It was too unnerving being with the two women. This whole scenario felt so unreal, almost as if he had been cast as an actor in a play and nobody had given him his lines. He met Mrs. Roberts, on her way with a tray of teacups. She refused his offer to carry it for her with a polite, “I can manage very well, thank you, sir.”
