What was the town like? The name sounded charming. Why had Jacqui chosen to travel there?
There were so many unanswered questions bubbling in her mind that Cassie took much longer than she’d expected to fall asleep.
When she finally did, she dreamed that she was in the town. It was quaint and scenic, with winding terraces and buildings in honeyed stone. Walking down the street, she asked a passerby, “Where can I find my sister?”
“She’s there.” He pointed up the hill.
As she walked, Cassie began to wonder what was up there. It seemed a long way from anywhere. What was Jacqui doing there? Why hadn’t she come down to find Cassie, since she knew her sister was in town?
Finally, breathlessly, she reached the top of the hill, but the tower had gone, and all she could see was a huge, dark lake. Its murky waters lapped at the dark, crumbling stone edges that surrounded it.
“Here I am.”
“Where?”
The voice seemed to come from far away.
“You’re too late,” Jacqui whispered, her voice husky and filled with sadness. “Dad got to me first.”
Horrified, Cassie leaned over and looked down.
There was Jacqui, lying at the bottom of the dark, cold water.
Her hair swirled around her and her limbs were white and lifeless, draped like seaweed over the sharp rocks, while her sightless eyes stared up.
“No!” Cassie screamed.
She realized this wasn’t Jacqui at all, and she wasn’t in Italy. She was back in France, staring over the stone parapet at the sprawled body far below. This was no dream, it was a memory. Dizziness overcame her and she clutched at the stone, terrified that she was going to fall, too, because she felt so weak and helpless.
“That’s what dads are for. That’s what they do.”
The taunting voice spoke from behind her and she staggered round.
There he was, the man who had lied to her and misled her and destroyed her confidence. But it wasn’t her father she was looking at. It was Ryan Ellis, her employer in England, his face twisted with contempt.
“That’s what dads do,” he whispered. “They hurt. They destroy. You weren’t good enough, and now it’s your turn. That’s what they do.”
His outstretched hand grabbed her shirt and he shoved with all his might.
Cassie screamed in terror as she felt herself lose her grip, the stone slipping from her grasp.
She was falling, falling.
And then she landed, sitting up, gasping, cold sweat chilling her even though the spacious bedroom was warm.
The layout of the room was unfamiliar, and she spent some time fumbling around before locating her bedside table and then, finally, the light switch.
She turned it on and sat up, desperate to confirm that she’d escaped her nightmare.
She was in the large double bed with its ornate metal headboard. On the opposite side of the room was the big bay window with its golden brown curtains closed.
To her right was the bedroom door, and to the left was the door of her bathroom. The desk, the chair, the bar fridge, the wardrobe, everything was as she remembered it.
Cassie let out a deep breath, reassured that she wasn’t still trapped in her dream.
Although it was still dark, it was already a quarter past seven in the morning. With a start, she remembered that she hadn’t received any instruction about what the children should be doing. Or had she, but it had slipped her mind? Had Ms. Rossi said something about school?
Cassie shook her head. She couldn’t recall anything and didn’t think she had mentioned the school times.
She climbed out of bed and quickly dressed. In the bathroom, she tamed her auburn waves into a tidy look that she hoped would be acceptable in this fashion-focused home.
As she stared into the mirror, she heard a noise outside.
Cassie froze, listening.
She picked up the faint sound of footsteps, scrunching over gravel. The bathroom window’s frosted glass faced outward, toward the gate.
Was this one of the kitchen staff?
She pushed the window open and peered out.
In the deep gray of the early morning, Cassie saw a dark-clad figure sidling around the house. As she stared, astonished, she made out the shape of a man wearing a black beanie and carrying a small dark backpack. She caught only a momentary glimpse, but saw he was heading toward the back door.
Her heart accelerated as she thought of intruders, and the automatic gate, and the security cameras.
She remembered Ms. Rossi’s words and the clear warning she had given. This was a wealthy family. No doubt they might be a target for robbery, or even kidnapping.
She had to go and investigate. If she thought he looked dangerous, she could raise the alarm, scream, and wake the household.
As she hurried downstairs, she decided on her plan of action.
The man had headed round the back of the house, so she would go out the front door. There was enough light now to be able to see, and the cold night had left frost on the grass. She would be able to track his footprints.
Cassie walked outside, locking the front door behind her. The morning was still and freezing cold, but she was so nervous she barely noticed the temperature.
There were the footprints, faint but clear in the frost. They led around the house, over the neatly trimmed grass, and onto the courtyard bricks.
Following them, she saw they led to the back door, which was standing wide open.
Cassie crept up the steps, noticing the distinctive shoe prints on each stone stair.
She paused in the doorway, waiting, straining to hear any suspicious noises over the hammering of her own heart.
She could hear nothing from inside, although the lights were on. A faint smell of coffee wafted
