Page 97 of Her Dark Lies
No. It has to be Harper. She said she needed to talk to me. She said she would meet me in the cottages. My imagination is on overdrive, that’s all. And the rain distorts everything.
The air is laden with floral notes. The heady scent of the gardens and the rain wafts through the air. This part of the Villa is eerily quiet. I don’t know if that’s because we’re being kept from our guests by the largeness of the manor house, or if it’s just a function of so few people being here, or jet lag and mimosas are keeping people in their rooms, but I make it to the back terrace doors unmolested. There are umbrellas in a stand—a couple of them wet, which tells me people have been going in and out—and Wellies lined up in a rubber rainbow. I select a red pair that look close to my size and slip my feet into them. Perfect. I grab a windbreaker too—hooded and waterproof—from the array on the hooks above the boots. I have no idea where Jack is, text him I’m going outside to look for Harper, then stick the phone in my back pocket.
“Ma’am?”
I jump and whirl. I’ve forgotten Malcolm.
“Yes?”
“Jack asked that I keep a close watch on you. You aren’t planning to go out there, are you? It’s pissing rain.”
“Malcolm, I had no idea you were British. You never talk.”
He grins at me, probably the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, showing surprisingly white teeth. “I moved to America when I was young, so I lost most of my accent. You can’t go out in this, you’ll catch your death.”
“Well, yes, I am going out there. I saw someone on the other side of the labyrinth. I’m hoping it’s my sister, I need to talk to her about my dress.”
He grabs an umbrella. “I’ll have to go with you. Jack insisted.”
“You don’t have to—” At his look, I break off. I’m going to have company whether I want it or not. “Okay. Let’s go now, though, before she gets too far from the house.” And before he has a chance to stop me, I scurry outside into the pouring rain.
Within moments of leaving the terrace, I’m soaked through, despite the windbreaker and umbrella. I ignore Malcolm’s call to slow down and run, pell-mell, into the labyrinth. It’s not terribly complicated when you know to turn left, not designed to confuse or control, and I’m quickly on to the last turn when I see a flash of white.
I slow, not wanting to run into trouble, make the turn carefully. But it’s not a person. Caught in the evergreen branches is a length of fabric. I retrieve it, unwind it gently, already knowing what I’m going to find. It is the desecrated panel from my dress, now cut away from the bustle, the word written on it melted into a brown stain.
Was it Harper I saw from the window?
Remembrance is a tricky thing. Was the hair black, or brown?
But wet brown hair is darker than dry brown hair. With the rising mist...it is possible.
There’s no way my sister could possibly be behind this. She couldn’t be. Ruining my wedding dress? We aren’t bosom buddies, but she’s never wished me genuine ill. I’m being paranoid.
Besides, she was trying to find a way to fix the dress.
Wasn’t she?
Malcolm catches up to me. “Ma’am, please, don’t do that. I can’t protect you if you won’t stay in sight.”
“Well hurry, then. We’re going to the cottages.”
“Jack wouldn’t want—”
I whirl on him. “I don’t give a damn what Jack wants right now. Either get with the program or bugger off.”
I start moving again, not waiting for an answer. Malcolm grabs my arm and pulls me back toward the house. His grip is tight, and I immediately start to struggle.
“Stop it, right now, or you’ll regret it.” He mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like “Stupid bitch.”
“What did you just call me?”
“You heard me.” No longer trying to cover himself, he is sneering now, and I’m so shocked I forget to fight back. He manages to drag me back into the heart of the labyrinth before my brain kicks back into gear. This is Jack’s security. His protectors. No, my security. My protectors.
Malcolm is part of this.
“Are you the one texting me?”
He grunts, no answer.
