Where All the Dead Lie

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

They got back to the house undetected.

Maisrie led the way, through the kitchens, where Jacques, seeking to distract the crew of servants about to exit into the hallway to bring food to the dining room, made a show of entering, shaking snow off his thick hair, jovially tossing French compliments out to disarm the cook. Taylor and her small companion snuck on alone now.

Taylor heard noises coming from the hallway, a familiar voice. Maisrie stopped full, her face showing alarm. It was Trixie. Well, there’d be no helping it. With a smile, Taylor pushed Maisrie out in front of her, hoping the girl would be enterprising enough to improvise, at least long enough for Taylor to get into the drawing room.

She was hoping that Maddee would be set up in the drawing room like she had been the past two days, waiting for her, unaware of Taylor’s suspicions.

Yeah, that was probably too much to wish for.

Taylor looked at her watch. It was past two. Surely Trixie had told Maddee that she was up and about, and that Taylor knew she and Roland were in the castle.

She got to the drawing room, listening carefully for signs of someone nearby. Hearing nothing, she stuck her head in. No one was there. What luck. Perfect. She that asketh, getteth.

She slipped in. For their sessions, Maddee had kept her laptop out on the table for Taylor to use while her voice wasn’t working. When they finished the sessions, Maddee put the laptop into her bag.

Oh, this was too lucky for words. The bag was there. Now, was the laptop inside?

A flash of silver caught Taylor’s eye.

Score one for the good guys.

Taylor dove into the bag and grabbed the little laptop. She didn’t waste any more time. She needed to get back to her room. The drawing room only had one exit. Taylor went back to that door, listened, heard nothing, and slipped out into the hallway. Her heart was beating double time in her chest.

Just keep them occupied, Maisrie.

Taking Maddee’s laptop was dangerous, but there might be something on there that gave some answers to her past. And Taylor needed to delete their session notes. There was just too much personal information in them, words she’d said under hypnosis that could come back to haunt her. And God knew what sort of notes Maddee had inserted herself to make Taylor’s actions look even worse.

Up the stairs now, to the keypadded door leading to the family’s private quarters. Taylor had no idea if Maddee knew the combination. Now she understood the newly enhanced security measures: the castle being closed for the season, electronically locked doors. Jacques had started to share something that had alarmed Special Branch, something they’d found. She could only imagine what that might be. Personal protection from the government wasn’t cheap. The threat must have been very real for them to cover a continuous protection detail.

She was in the hallway now. Her room was two doors away. One door. There. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and went inside, locking it behind her. Nice to know she had a future in cat burgling, if she wanted it.

She set Maddee’s laptop on the desk. She knew it was password protected. She was going to need Lincoln’s help. But she needed to talk to Baldwin first. She dialed his number. It went to voice mail.

“Come on, Baldwin. Pick up your phone.”

She didn’t know what to think. It could be the storm had killed cellular service. Or it could be something much, much worse. She was starting to get completely freaked out by all of this. And there was no place she could go. She was stuck at the castle. If he were in trouble, she couldn’t help him. He was a capable man. He said he was in Atlantic’s offices in Amsterdam, was going to be here soon. She didn’t know how he would manage with the storm. She would have to fend for herself. He was safe, for now at least. She had her own issues she needed to deal with.

She left a message-“Call me”-then clicked off and dialed Lincoln’s phone. She wasn’t surprised when he answered immediately.

“Did you get it?” he asked.

“Yeah. Right here. I don’t know how much time I have.”

“I’ve been thinking about possible passwords. If you were using an alias, and no one knew your real name, what would you use?”

“You’re clever, Lincoln. It’s worth a try.”

Taylor typed the letters, holding her breath.

R-A-C-H-A-E-L-M-A-C-K

The screen saver disappeared, and the desktop background appeared. A beautiful shot of Loch Ness at sunset. Taylor remembered it from their first session.

“We’re in. And you’re amazing.”

“Okay. I emailed you the list of places to look and steps to take if there are barriers. Get to it. Call me if you need any help.”

“Will do, Linc. Thank you so much.”

She hung up with him, set the phone on the desk next to Maddee’s MacBook Air. Opened her own laptop, read through Lincoln’s instructions. Started combing through the doctor’s computer files.

Taylor quickly found the session notes from their two meetings. Taylor scanned through them, deleted the most egregious bits, then emailed them to herself and to Lincoln. Best-case scenario, she would have opened a file-sharing folder on Dropbox and uploaded all the files, but that would take more time than she had. Email wasn’t as secure, but it worked quicker.

She trekked her way through the past few days of files, opening, perusing, sending, then found what she was looking for.

Maddee’s online journal. Surely this would provide them with some answers.

She mailed the folder to Lincoln for him to look through as well, then went to most recent entries, the ones that had been made since she arrived at Dulsie Castle.

What she read turned her cold.

Like a child, Maddee, or Rachael, as Taylor needed to start thinking of her, started each entry the same way.

Dear Diary.

Dear Diary-The bitch has arrived…

Dear Diary-That stupid cunt thinks he actually loves her. She’s here to find out if she loves him, too…

Dear Diary-I can tell Memphis still has feelings for me. I saw the way he looked at me when he introduced his newest slut.

All I can remember is the feel of him under me, my hands so full of him…

Dear Diary-There’s no help for it. She has to go. She wants him, and he wants her. I can’t go through that again. Not again.

Taylor’s phone rang, startling her. It was Lincoln.

“Are you reading this?” she asked.

“Go to December 21, 2008,” he said.

“That’s the day Evan died.” She clicked back onto the dates, happy to get out of the woman’s psychotic head, even if only for a moment.

She read the entry, her mouth dropping open in shock.

Dec. 21, 2008

Dear Diary,

Everyone thinks she’s dead. Now she’s going to feel what it’s like to be in my shoes for a while. The bitch deserves every horrible thing that’s going to happen to her. She should have never doubted me. I tried to help her. Everything we did, hypnosis, medications, it was all working. And then she had to grow a spine, decide to tell Memphis about our sessions. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d find out.

“Lincoln, what the hell?”

“If what I’m reading is right, and not the ravings of a complete lunatic, Evan Highsmythe isn’t dead. She is very much alive.”