Page 89 of The Unseen
Oh, Rhys, you muffin bandit!Quinn’s lips twitched with a smile of amusement. She hadn’t realized until that moment that Rhiannan had a crush on Rhys, her feelings unwittingly encouraged with a few freshly baked scones and Rhys’s dazzling smile. Quinn often forgot just how handsome Rhys was, and how charming he could be. Blond, blue-eyed, and at least fifteen years his junior, Rhiannan was a lovely woman whose sweet manner and adoring looks weren’t lost on Rhys. He’d never been as charming or solicitous to his previous PA, Denise, who’d been grumpy and middle-aged. Rhys had always treated Denise with the utmost respect, but hadn’t shed any tears when she’d decided she’d had enough of his artistic temperament and asked for a transfer to another department.
“You’re not being silly, and I’m glad you called me. I’ll ring you as soon as I know anything.”
“Thank you, Dr. Allenby. You’re very kind.”
Quinn disconnected the call and went into the kitchen. Gabe was seated at the table, his eyes glued to the screen of hislaptop. Gabe was already off for Christmas break, and they would be leaving for Berwick on Saturday, once Emma’s school let out for the holidays on December 22.
“What are you doing?” Quinn asked.
“Just going over the roster for next term. With Luke gone, I’m one professor short, so someone will have to pick up some additional classes until I can find a replacement.”
“Gabe, I need to step out for an hour. There’s milk for Alex in the fridge.”
“Everything all right?”
“Rhys’s PA just called. She’s worried. Rhys missed his meetings this morning and isn’t answering his mobile.”
“That’s not like him,” Gabe replied, looking concerned. “Shall I come with you?”
“There’s no need. I should be back in time for lunch.”
“All right. Regards to Rhys,” Gabe said, his gaze already sliding back to the screen.
A taxi deposited Quinn in front of Rhys’s address a short while later. He occupied the two top floors of a terrace house in Mayfair. There was a sitting tenant downstairs who had come with the house when Rhys purchased it about a year ago. Mary Kent, whom Quinn had met when Rhys invited her and Gabe for dinner one night, was an elderly lady who’d lived in the flat for over forty years. She treated Rhys as if he were her long-lost son, which exasperated him at times. He was a private person and didn’t like anyone meddling in his affairs, but the widowed Mrs. Kent reminded him of his own mother, so he bit his tongue and allowed her to fuss over him.
Quinn walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer. She knocked, using the old-fashioned knocker that had come with the house. The sound reverberated through the emptyfoyer, but didn’t raise anyone. Quinn pulled out her mobile and selected Rhys’s mobile number. The phone rang somewhere inside the house, the distinctly audible ringtone suggesting that the mobile had been left close to an open window. Rhys never left the house without his phone, so he had to be at home. Something wasn’t right. Quinn knocked again. Perhaps he was asleep and couldn’t hear the knocking, but Rhys had mentioned more than once that he was a light sleeper. All this banging would have woken him by now.
Quinn descended the stairs and rang Mrs. Kent’s bell. The woman answered the door a few moments later. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Kent, I’m sorry to bother you, but I think something is wrong. Rhys missed several meetings this morning and he’s not answering his mobile. I can hear it ringing inside, but he’s not answering the door. I think he might be ill. Would you know if he keeps a spare key somewhere?”
Mrs. Kent looked at Quinn thoughtfully, appearing torn between concern and wariness. She clearly didn’t recall meeting Quinn.
“Mrs. Kent, we’ve met before. I’m Dr. Quinn Allenby. I work with Rhys.”
Mrs. Kent suddenly brightened. “Are you the Dr. Allenby from the telly?Echoes from the Past? Rhys is so proud of that program. He told me all about it when he invited me in for tea. And Haley was wonderful in the first episode, playing Elise. That’s how they got together, you know, Rhys and Haley. He auditioned her for the part,” Mrs. Kent added, lowering her voice as if the information were confidential.
“Mrs. Kent, does Rhys keep a spare key somewhere?” Quinn asked again, her anxiety mounting.
“I have a spare. He gave it to me before Haley moved in. He locked himself out after he first moved in, poor dear, and had to call a locksmith. They charge a fortune, those scoundrels. A hundred pounds to open a door. Can you imagine? Highwayrobbery is what that is. So Rhys gave me a key. He knows I hardly go out, so I’m here if he needs me. Here, let me fetch it.”
Mrs. Kent produced a key and handed it to Quinn. “You bring it right back. You hear? He entrusted it to me, and I want it back.”
“Would you like to come with me?”
“No, you go ahead. I don’t feel right traipsing through his flat when he’s not there. And he’s not there; I’m sure of it. I haven’t heard footsteps since last night. He always comes down around seven and puts the kettle on. Creature of habit, he is.”
“I’ll bring this right back,” Quinn replied and made for the stairs. She let herself into the house and called out Rhys’s name. Her voice echoed through the house, but there was no response. She looked around. The place was a mess. The kitchen cupboards were open, there were dirty dishes in the sink, and there was broken glass on the floor, the shards lying in a puddle of amber-colored liquid. Quinn peeked into the front room, but it was deserted. She slowly made her way upstairs. “Rhys!” she called out. “Rhys, it’s Quinn.”
All she heard was silence. The upper floor contained a bath, two bedrooms, and Rhys’s study. His mobile lay on his desk, next to his laptop. His keys were next to the phone, so he was definitely at home. The door to the master bedroom was closed. Quinn knocked loudly. “Rhys, it’s Quinn. I’m coming in.”
There was no answer, so she slowly pushed the door open. Sunlight streamed through the net curtains, casting slanted rays onto the walls, which were hung with black-and-white prints. The room was minimalist and masculine, decorated in shades of gray and blue. The focal point was the low platform bed, on which Rhys lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed and his hair tousled. Thick auburn stubble shadowed his face, which was turned away from the door. He wore flannel pajama bottoms and a navy blue T-shirt. His bare feet hung off the bed.
Quinn came closer. At first glance, Rhys appeared to be asleep, but his skin looked gray, the unnatural color accentuated by the crisp whiteness of the sheets. His right arm lay across the bed, an empty bottle of Scotch next to his hand, as if it had slipped from his grasp when he dozed off. His other arm was folded across his stomach. There was an open bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table.
“Rhys!” Quinn cried. “Rhys, wake up.”
She gently slapped his face in an effort to rouse him, but she knew he wouldn’t come to even as she called out to him. His skin was cold to the touch and his face was perfectly still, and lifeless. She grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. It was faint, but it was still there. Quinn fumbled for her mobile and rang for an ambulance.
