Two hours later, Sabine was mentally and emotionally drained as she’d never been before. Catherine and her ideas about “proper” behavior for a Fortescue, Frances’s interruptions with scripture that didn’t apply to anything they were speaking of, William’s uninterested silence, and Alford’s mild annoyance had gotten on her last nerve. In fact, it was more likely the last nerve was gone, too, and now they were eating away at bone.
Dinner had been an elaborate affair, served by the enthusiastic Adelaide, and while Sabine had to admit the food was fantastic, the atmosphere was so…oppressed, she guessed was the best word…that it made it difficult to enjoy the meal. Finally, the last dish was cleared away and they left the stiff, formal dining hall for the relative comfort of the living room. Alford excused himself, claiming he had some documents to review for a client meeting the following morning. Sabine didn’t think he was telling the truth for a minute, but since contemplating the fuzz in her navel would be more interesting than hearing Catherine drone on any longer, she could hardly blame him for escaping. After all, he had to deal with the family far more than she did and had probably heard Catherine’s opinions every week for the last twenty or thirty years.
A couple of times Helena had popped her head into the room, but only long enough to shake her head at Sabine and pop back out again. Sabine was growing dreadfully afraid that she was enduring this insult to her entire life for nothing.
They had just settled in the living room with coffee and Catherine was droning on about the high-end, dresses-only clothing store that Sabine should open when Adelaide hurried into the room, interrupting Catherine’s monologue on “proper fashion for heiresses.”
“Mrs. Fortescue, a storm is moving in something fierce and there’s a leak around one of the library windows. It came up so sudden-like, I’m afraid we didn’t even know until quite a bit of the floor was soaked.”
Catherine frowned and left the room. She returned a minute later, a grim look on her face. “Adelaide is right. I can’t see an inch beyond the hallway window. The living room is so well insulated we couldn’t hear a thing.” She looked at the housekeeper, her agitation obvious and unusual for the normally ultra-composed woman. “Have you checked the news? Where is the storm coming from?”
Adelaide shook her head. “Can’t get any signal on the television. As soon as we realized it was raining, we tried. I got an old radio up in my room. You want me to get it?”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “That would be very helpful.” She looked at Sabine and Beau. “I’m so sorry about all of this. The storm must have shifted at the last minute. If you’ll excuse William and me, there are some things we should tend to in case we lose power.” Catherine nodded at her husband and they left the room through opposite doors, the quickness in their step belying the calm presentation.
Sabine shot a look at Beau. No power meant no lights. Shut up in this house with a possible killer and no lights wasn’t an option Sabine hadn’t considered, and she didn’t like considering it now. As soon as Catherine left, Sabine crossed the room and retrieved her purse from the table in the corner. She opened it and ensured that her pistol was still safely tucked inside, then walked back across the room, purse in tow, and pulled a cough drop from a pocket inside. She sat the purse on a table within easy reach and looked over at Frances, who was sitting ramrod stiff, her face filled with fear.
“Frances?” Sabine asked. “Are you all right?”
Frances twisted the edge of her sweater with both hands. “I don’t like the storm. I put them in the garden, but they came back. It was the water.”
Adelaide came into the room and patted Frances on the arm. “Now, Frances, you didn’t plant any flowers this spring and besides, William fixed the drainage years ago. Those plants aren’t going anywhere.” Adelaide helped Frances up from her chair. “Why don’t you let me get you settled in your room before the worst of this comes? I’ll bring you a cup of hot chocolate as soon as you’re tucked down deep in them covers.”
Frances looked at Adelaide with a blank stare for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Hot chocolate does sound nice.”
“Of course it does,” Adelaide soothed. She turned to Sabine and Beau. “Give me a minute to see to Frances, and then I’ll get you two some flashlights from the kitchen. Just in case.” She guided Frances out of the room and into the hallway.
“It’s the ‘just in case’ that worries me the most,” Sabine whispered. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Beau crossed the room and checked up and down the halls at both entrances. “I don’t know, but that storm is starting to worry me.”
“Maybe we should start home before it gets any worse.”
“Too late for that,” Martin Alford’s voice sounded from the front entrance, causing Sabine to jump. “The bridge is already under water, and the river was still rising. It will take hours after the rain subsides before the river will be low enough to cross.”
Sabine stared at him. “Surely there’s another way. A way around?”
“Not to speak of,” Alford said, as he wiped at his dripping wet face with a tissue. “A long ways back there was a road that ran north of here and circled the river, but when the Fortescues acquired the land containing the road about thirty years back, they closed off the road and it’s since grown over so you wouldn’t really know it was there unless you knew where to look.”
“Oh, I don’t know that I’d like living here knowing that every time it rained I was cut off from the rest of the world. What if they have an emergency?”
Alford brushed wet hair off his forehead and reached for a tissue to wipe his brow. “If there’s a serious situation, there’s plenty of room to land a helicopter, and those pilots can fly in just about anything. Of course, you’d have to take one of the horses to actually get into town as the phones usually go right along with the power, but it’s rarely necessary. The bridge usually doesn’t go all the way under. It just happens when it rains hard and fast, a real downpour.”
“Where did this come from?” Sabine asked. “Everyone thought the storms were headed east of here.”
Alford nodded. “They are, but not far enough east for us to avoid a bit of the lashing. It was clear as a bell when I left and not five minutes later the bottom dropped out of the sky. I thought I’d get past the bridge before it went under, but with all the rain we’ve had lately, the river was already running high and this storm is really pouring it out.”
“So what do we do?” Sabine asked. “I mean, if Mr. Alford is right and we won’t be able to get over the bridge until tomorrow—” A huge clap of thunder boomed through the house, causing the walls to shake. The lights flickered once, then again, then went off completely, leaving the room pitch black.
“Holy shit!” Sabine passed her hand over the table until she found her purse, then lifted it up and pulled it on her shoulder.
“Just stay still,” Beau advised and stepped closer to Sabine, finding her hand with his. “Adelaide said she’d be back with flashlights. She can’t be much longer.”
Sabine felt her pulse begin to increase and hoped Adelaide came before she was in cardiac arrest mode. She looked to the doorway that Adelaide had escorted Frances through and saw a faint flicker of light. She squinted, trying to make out the source, and as it grew closer, she realized it was an old-fashioned oil lantern. The lantern cast an eerie glow on Catherine’s face as she walked into the room.
Catherine’s gaze stopped on Alford. “Mr. Alford…I was afraid you might not make it out in time. I can only assume the bridge is underwater.”
“Yes,” Alford said. “I don’t think it’s going to be passable for quite a while after the storm stops.”
“Then you’ll all stay here,” Catherine said and looked over at Sabine. “I’m so sorry about this inconvenience. If I’d had any idea the storm would hit here, we would have postponed dinner. Adelaide is finishing up with Frances. I’ll have her make up three guest rooms on the same hall.”
“Do you have any flashlights?” Beau asked. “Adelaide was going to bring some back with her.”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “We keep several in the kitchen for just this reason. I’ll go get them. William is bringing in more lanterns from the garage, and there’s the generator, of course, but it only produces enough power to light the kitchen. I’m afraid you’re going to have to relive ancient history for a night—except for the indoor plumbing part, of course.” She gave them a smile, then turned and walked toward the kitchen. Alford fell in step behind her.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’d like to get one of those flashlights and check on my car. I think I left an interior light on.”
“Of course,” Catherine said and the two left the room through the entrance to the kitchen.
The light in the room faded with Catherine’s lantern, and once again Sabine and Beau were cast into darkness. “I don’t like it,” Beau said, keeping his voice low. “It’s not safe. I don’t want you in that room alone. I’m staying with you.”
“Catherine would never agree to that. It wouldn’t be ‘proper.’ ”
“Then I’ll sneak in after she’s gone.”
“With all of us occupying the same hallway? If you use a light, Alford or Frances will see it and if you don’t use a light, you’ll take out one of the five thousand antiques they have lining every hall in this monstrosity.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Sabine opened her mouth to respond, but felt a jab in her side from Beau’s elbow. She looked over at the entrance as Catherine walked back into the room, carrying two flashlights. A second look revealed Helena strolling behind her, a worried look on her face. Catherine handed them each a flashlight and said, “Adelaide has already started putting out the linens. It will only be a bit longer before the rooms are ready. I know it’s a little early, but I figured it would be better to retire now than risk walking around with the lanterns. I worry about fire, especially in a house this old.”
Sabine just nodded, trying not to look at Helena, but dying to know what the ghost had found out.
“I don’t blame you,” Beau said. “Just let us know when everything’s ready. We’re not going anywhere.”
Catherine tried to smile at his attempt at a joke, but it came out more like a grimace. Whatever was bothering her seemed to intensify right along with the storm. She nodded and left the room.
Sabine watched as the light of the lantern faded away, then turned on her flashlight and faced Beau. “I know this wasn’t in the plans and I’ll admit this house and the people who live here give me the creeps, but this might also be the opportunity to get to the bottom of this.”
Beau stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “We are trapped in this mansion out of a horror novel and you think this is some sort of opportunity? An opportunity for what—a shallow grave?”
“An opportunity to catch the killer in the act.”
“You’re not exactly convincing me of anything here, Sabine.”
“If I’m in a room alone, then the killer might take a shot at me.”
Beau shook his head. “Which is exactly my problem with all of this. No way. I’m not letting you stay by yourself.”
“But I have a plan—”
“Damn it, Sabine! You want me to sit in my room, and who knows how far away that is, and wait for someone to attack you? And what? Hope you can fight them off or yell loud enough for me to hear you and get there in time? That’s a bullshit plan and you know it. And if you want to throw in the insanity angle then our number one suspect is Frances and her room is on the same hall.”
“It’s not like I’m unprotected, Beau—you’ve seen me shoot. I’ll be fine. If they’d slipped anything into my food, I’d be laid out on the floor already, and I won’t drink the hot chocolate. That way I can stay conscious.”
“Really? And if the killer gets creative and pumps gas through a vent in your room—what then? You going to tell me you can shoot people in your sleep? Because if so, you should have warned me last night and I would have worn a bulletproof vest to bed.”
“Whoohoo!” Helena hooted and danced a jig. “Sabine got lucky.” Helena looked Beau up and down. “Really lucky. Damn.”
Sabine felt her checks burning red and was glad the flashlight didn’t give away her mortal embarrassment. Bad enough her roll with the sexy PI had been announced to Helena, but even worse, she’d had a vivid recall of just how good Beau Villeneuve looked in bed. She bit her lower lip, struggling with a way to let Beau in on her secret weapon, but there simply wasn’t any way to lessen the blow. “You trust me, right?”
“This has nothing to do with me trusting you. It’s about not trusting them.”
“What if I told you I could ensure that even if something happened to me, you could be notified?”
Beau shook his head. “Our cell phones don’t get a signal out this far. I’ve already checked. And even if they did normally, they wouldn’t in this storm. Maybe if the rooms are right next to each other, but I seriously doubt prim and proper Catherine is going to go for that.”
“What if I had a more elusive, albeit much more offensive, method of calling you for help?” She bit her lip, then pressed forward before she could change her mind. “I snuck someone into the estate with us.”
“Where, in your handbag? Even if there wasn’t a monsoon outside, there’s no way into this fortress that isn’t covered with iron bars or security cameras.”
“She rode with us in the truck.”
Beau blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t have time for games. We have to come up with a plan, and right now the best one I can think of involves walking out of here and swimming across that damned bayou of alligators. It’s the safer of the two options.”
“She’s a ghost. Helena Henry’s ghost, to be exact.”
Beau stared. “What do you want from me, Sabine? Jesus, I’ve kept an open mind about everything, but telling me I taxied a ghost over here is way beyond my limit.”
“Helena,” Sabine said and pointed to a desk in the corner. “Get that pad of paper and pen and bring it over here so that you can answer some questions. And make it fast. We need to go from ‘no way in hell’ to ‘I believe’ in a minute or less.”
Helena lifted the paper and pen from the desk and walked over to stand next to Beau. The look on his face was beyond comprehension, and Sabine could only imagine what thoughts must be racing through his mind. Helena began to write and Beau looked down at the paper in amazement.
I am Helena Henry. I was murdered and have been visible to Maryse since my death and more recently to Sabine. Sorry if this startles the shit out of you, but it’s not a fucking picnic for me either. I’ve been here spying on these psychos for hours and haven’t had a thing to eat. Deal with it and let’s get this over with.