Page 6 of Villainous Mind

“The kind my parents gave me,” she snapped.

“Well, Navy. It’s cold, and I’m tired. Since there is no Mr. Ellis to see, perhaps you should leave.”

“Who owns the place now?” she continued.

I sighed. Though a part of me appreciated her tenacity. “It’s a family estate.”

“And does anyone in the family live here?”

“Does it look like it?” I said, annoyed.

“I guess not.” She gave me a tight smile. “I apologize for wasting your time.”

“Owen was right. You shouldn’t be walking around alone.”

“I’m not a young girl. I’m sure I will be fine,” she said.

“You look young.” Young and cheeky with a chip on her shoulder, to be more exact. “No older than the other girls. You’d be wise to listen.”

“And you’d be wise to keep your opinions to yourself.” She headed over to her car, stopping when she got there. “You never told me your name.”

“It’s Rhys Hughes if you need to know.”

She got in and started the car, driving off.

I went into the caravan and shut the door, pouring myself a glass of red wine as I put a vinyl on an old record player. The soft lyrics of ‘Ar Lan y Môr’ filled the space around me, calming the beast.

Calming me.

It was a Welsh love song. Evocative and haunting.

A storm brewed off the coast. It would be here soon. The tides were changing along with the seasons. Winter was upon us. If the girl was a spy, she would return, and I would be ready.

ChapterThree

NAVY

The rain came down in a torrent, kicking up water in Milford Haven marina and rocking the boats to and fro. The clanking of the halyards echoed in the distance. I sat in my hotel room going over everything I knew about the missing girls, which wasn’t much, and I was now second-guessing stealing Sam’s story. The information I had was spotty at best. Sam knew much more about the case and would know exactly where to start. The only thing I had to go on, Môr Haven Manor, turned out to be a bust, and the caretaker, Rhys Hughes, was anything but helpful. In fact, he was downright rude.

Handsome.

But rude.

With dark brown hair and brown eyes, he had a strong face with high cheekbones and a straight nose. He was a perfectly chiseled model reflective of men you would see in magazines or on a runway. But that is where anything nice ended. His jaw was covered in the start of a beard, giving him an almost foreboding feeling, and his clothes were tattered and threadbare. I shook my head. Yesterday had been a complete waste of time. If I was going to save the story, I would have to find some kind of connection.

I put on my Doc Martin boots and grabbed my raincoat. I wouldn’t find anything by staying inside all day.

My first stop was Milford Haven School. I pulled my car into a parking spot and turned off the engine. From what I could find on my computer, the two girls had attended the secondary school, and both lived in the smaller villages on the outskirts of Pembrokeshire. The girls were both bus riders, and their parents had seen them off in the morning, but neither of them had made it to school.

I watched as teenagers piled out of cars, avoiding the large puddles that had formed, and hurried inside the building. Only a small group exited the single school bus as most parents had stopped letting their children use it.

A knock on my window startled me. I lowered it.

“May I help you?” a young man in a police uniform asked.

“Is there a problem, officer?” I said.

“DC Havard, ma’am. No, I saw you parked here. Were you dropping someone off?” he asked.

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