Page 39 of The Gilded Cuff
“Someone set the fire so they’d have time to plant this here.” Such a simple plan, yet incredibly effective. It had left the house vulnerable. “Hans, I saw a man when Emery and I got out of the stables. I saw someone in black, wearing a ski mask. He was on the other side of the stables.”
Hans bowed his head a moment as though in thought. “He’s gone by now. He set the trap and laid the bait. The question is now, what does he want us to do? And how can we avoid it?” Hans balled a fist and slammed it down on the counter. “Damn! We played right into his game. He knew how I’d react. He could only know that if he’s been watching us.” Hans turned his attention to Cody. “Check the monitors. Find out if we have any angles on him entering the premises. And find out if we have any bugs in this house. If we have to do a room-by-room sweep, then we will.”
“This is bad,” Cody muttered. “Real bad.” He shifted restlessly.
Only Emery remained still. He held the shoe up, his long elegant fingers tracing the shoe’s designs and stroking the laces.
“He’s baiting me. What does he want me to do?”
No one said anything. All eyes remained fixed on the shoe.
“Should we call the police?” Sophie finally asked.
Emery and Hans both shook their heads and Emery spoke. “No. No police. The more men we allow inside the grounds the more we put ourselves at risk. We need to avoid media attention. Hans, call my parents. Ask if we can send the horses to their stables down the road.”
Hoping to hide how badly her hands were shaking, Sophie shoved them in the pockets of her shorts. “So what do we do now?”
Hans looked at Sophie. “We keep quiet and calm. It’ll force the man to act again to draw us out.”
“You stay here with Hans. Eat and relax. I have some things to see to.” Emery picked up the shoe and strode from the room.
“Wait—”
Hans caught her by the arm, halting her. “Let him go for now. He needs some time to banish his ghosts.”
Chapter 10
BRANTLOCKWOOD, THELOCKWOOD CHILDREN’S COUSIN, VOLUNTEERED TO SPEAK FOR THE FAMILY AND MADE A PUBLIC APPEAL ON TELEVISION AND THROUGH THE LOCAL PAPERS TO THE BOYS’ KIDNAPPERS. “PLEASE BRING MY COUSINS HOME.WHATEVER YOUR PRICE IS, WE WILL PAY IT FOR THEIR SAFE RETURN.”
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
Ghosts.
Was he always to be haunted?
Emery walked down the long hall leading to the library. This part of the house was modeled like a French chateau, with stone walls covered by large decorative tapestries. Most of them depicted the Hunt of the Unicorn, his mother’s favorite image. The hall was dark enough that the colors in the cloth remained rich. Emery had long ago hated unicorn tapestries. As a boy he’d found them girly, and had rooted for the hunters in the murder of the beautiful beast. But now…
He paused before the scene of the unicorn in captivity. The rich white threads woven in the shape of the mythical beast gleamed in the low light, a glimmer made with a hint of silver thread amid the snow white. The simple wood fence sewn around the beast didn’t seem powerful enough to hold the unicorn. It was a marvel that something so wondrous and beautiful, a creature born of magic and moonlight, could be contained by the mortal-made fence.
He stared at the tapestry for a long moment before realizing what was so captivating about the unicorn. It wasn’t that the creature was trapped, but rather that it allowed itself to be held captive. It surrendered to the destiny of the tale, giving itself over to the hunters. Emery felt something in his chest tighten and his respect for the unicorn grew. It was submissive.Like Sophie. He reached out, touching the unicorn’s blue collar, held by a clasp of gold thread that wound around the unicorn’s neck.
Innocence captured. Innocence tamed.
Immortality made mortal.
It reminded him of something his mother used to say whenever she’d find a lone Monarch butterfly trying to migrate during a storm, surviving the rain to keep flying against all odds. She’d hold Emery in her arms, point toward the colored wings and say, “Not all wonders are endless. Some last only for a breath of time, but are no less magnificent than the mountains that have stood for millennia or the seas which shape the shores with their waves.” Then she’d kiss him on his cheek and send him off to play with Fenn.
Emery’s hands clenched at his sides. Fenn’s shoe burned his palm. The sting of that long ago night was returning. The old secrets clawed their way up from their graves, churning the soil with decayed hands, as they were resurrected by old evils. Emery shut his eyes briefly, and then continued walking down the hall into the massive library.
The polished walnut bookshelves hummed with life and light. The room was two stories tall. A circular staircase led to the upper level, where a catwalk allowed access to the higher shelves. Red brocade chairs were angled toward the large fireplace and reading tables were placed throughout the room near the shelves. Two tall French doors allowed light to stream through from one side of the library to the other.
The tension that had coiled tight in Emery’s body eased almost instantly. Books, especially these books, could calm any storm inside him. So many of the novels were old friends that had kept him distracted and entertained when depression would have weighed him down. In the years following the kidnapping, he’d sought solace among their pages.
Setting Fenn’s shoe on the table by the two chairs near the fireplace, he walked to the nearest shelf. His fingers trailed the titles by Robert Louis Stevenson.Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, Treasure Island.When his whole life had flipped on its head these stories had kept him breathing. He’d begun to view his kidnapping from a distance, as though it hadn’t happened to him, but instead he’d simply read about it in a book. It was the only way Emery kept moving, kept living. So he’d spun a tale to himself about two princes who’d been taken, and one whose life had ended, one life destroyed. And he’d locked the truth away in his heart, deep in the dark recesses where no light could ever shine.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood staring at the faded spines with the glimmer of the gilded letters of the titles winking back at him in the afternoon sun. He’d reached a road with two paths ahead.
It was time to stop hiding, at least from himself. He had to tell Sophie everything, let her have the story come what may. If he shared it, the burden on his shoulders would have to ease, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t hate seeing his brother’s face in the mirror every day.
