Page 37 of Hidden Raphael
Hopeless.
She inhaled then marched downstairs. He'd said something about dinner tonight. She’d prepped the slow cooker last night, but she’d check on it to make sure he’d have a hearty meal.
The smell of chicken with walnuts and pomegranates wafted in the air. The cookbook had this under the Persian section, but she had made alterations for the slow cooker to do this for her. She entered the kitchen, lifted the lid, and added some spices. Dinner was ready whenever he was.
Tonight was hours away.
She rubbed her chin. The drawbridge had to have a remote. She stared out the window, feeling trapped. At the moment there was no rain.
Where was Roger’s body?
Goose bumps raised on her skin.
Help.
Ice ran in her veins. Roger? The murderer's voice echoed in the kitchen. Did the dead speak from the beyond? She shook off her ridiculous thoughts. She'd likely imagined it. She took a deep breath and listened closer. No more sounds. Her pulse pounded at her wrists and she unclenched her hands.
Why would she hear something? She swallowed. The draft in this place needed to be fixed. Or was this how Raphael made his fortune? People paid good money to sleep in haunted mansions.
She twisted her head and remembered the layout of the house. Only a few rooms functioned as a hotel, and she hadn’t ventured anywhere.
She'd never seen Raphael anywhere except the library and now the gym. Where did he sleep?
Kimberly's gut told her she had figured out the place. There was probably a whole other wing she ought to go see.
She went to the desk and withdrew a piece of paper. She quickly drew a schematic of the places she'd been. Then she drew what she remembered of the outside, which wasn't much. She'd been unconscious.
Usually castles were square, though, so there had to be another wing. She starred the empty spot. Raphael must live somewhere over there.
She'd go check it out.
Tonight, she'd speak to Raphael. They'd clear the air, and she'd get a good night's sleep.
Swoosh.
She rolled her eyes and walked faster toward the door. At what point would she be able to ignore those sounds?
Her hands trembled as she held the candelabrum. She ignored that and rushed up the stairs and down an unfamiliar hallway. At the end, she inhaled then opened the last door.
A red velvet rope hung and signaled visitors were not allowed to go beyond that point. She stepped over the small blockade and entered a new room. She held the candelabrum higher.
Something flashed in the corner. She yelped, then realized it was a knight's armor. She'd seen that in the Tower of London too. On her visit to the tower, though, it was daylight, and on the tour, there was nothing to be scared of. Her heart beat a little heavier now, but she was alone.
She proceeded in the dark and fingered a tapestry of some sort. How old was it? Kimberly looked out the window. The sun was setting. Where had the day gone?
"In Miami, we always have light. Suffocating heat sometimes, but we always had light." Every nerve in her body was at attention, but she rubbed her arm to erase the chill. The Sunshine State was why she'd never attempted to go too far north anywhere.
She walked further into the black room and saw another hallway. Did she dare go further? The yellow light from the hall twinkled. Did Raphael live this way and that was why he’d left some candles burning?
"Kimberly?"
Raphael's voice came from the hallway that she knew. She stepped back and rubbed her arms. She'd explore later. She retraced her steps back to the familiar part of the castle. She closed the door and called out, "Raphael?"
No answer. She swallowed. Where was he?
Did that mean he was hungry? She puckered her lips then went back to the kitchen. She'd get the plates and serve dinner.
She lifted the lid. Half the food was gone. Had Raphael or Meg served themselves? She shrugged then set the food in the dumbwaiter. Then she rushed up the stairs and to the dining room. Raphael was nowhere to be found.
