“They tried to hurt Miss Marnier,” Miss Juno said and looked over to the young woman standing a little further back. Miss Marnier looked around with large eyes and nodded. “They must have turned their attention to Mr. Rowland.”
“Then where is he?” someone asked.
“Why would someone hurt him?” the American asked. What was his name again? Something or other Carter. Tom, wasn’t it?
“Why would someone try to hurt me?” Miss Marnier said. “It doesn’t make sense, but someone tried. And perhaps I was luckier than Mr. Rowland.”
A silence descended on the group. Miss Juno walked back a few steps and wrapped her arms around her.
“This is all silly,” Mr. Weber said. “Such things do not happen here. It is all wild imagination.”
“Yet someone wrote on the wall in the library,” Mr. Carter stated. “I’m sure we didn’t imagine that. And it was someone in the hotel. Have we searched the hotel for Mr. Rowland?”
Intently, Clemmie listened. They hadn’t searched the hotel. It had to have a basement and an attic. “It must be searched,” she said. Again, horrid images tried to assault her, but she pushed them away. Maybe Oliver had simply been locked in a room he couldn’t escape. “He might be somewhere here.”
For a moment, Mr. Weber looked set to argue, but he conceded. “I will ask the staff to search the entire hotel, and all the outbuildings.” He walked away and spoke to the doorman.
“I’ll help, if you’ll have me,” Mr. Carter said. Mr. Weber nodded and they all walked into the main corridor that led to the rooms.
“There is something very wrong here,” Miss Juno said, her arms still tightly wrapped.
Yes, there was something very wrong. Maybe Oliver hadn’t wandered up on the mountain by himself after all. Even he would have known it was a foolhardy thing to do. And if he had, he wouldn’t have gone far. No, something had happened to him, and it may even have happened here in the hotel.
Rising from her seat, she returned to the library, searching the entire room. This was the last place Oliver had been seen, at least by her, and she searched for some evidence that something had happened in this room. Was this why the message had been written here? And why Oliver? He hadn’t done anything. No one here knew him, and frankly, that included her. She knew him as well as balls, social calls and batting eyelashes allowed, but it would be unjust to say she knew him well.
It was true, though, that he’d been here before, and perhaps he’d upset someone to the point where they remembered him as he returned. Had he stayed at this hotel? She hadn’t asked. He’d spoken about Italy a great deal, but not his journey getting there.
This also brought into question her assumption that Miss Marnier’s experiences had just been nerves getting the better of her. What if that wasn’t the case? Had someone tried to hurt her and she’d gotten away from them. From her telling, it wasn’t just one person, but several.
Had they tried again and Oliver had tried to intervene? The woman hadn’t said anything. Perhaps she hadn’t been aware. Maybe Oliver had stumbled across them and tried to fight them off.
None of this made sense. All improbable conjecture, but they seemed to have exhausted all logical conclusions. Clemmie wanted to join the search, but she hadn’t been invited to. Even that rude Italian man joined them.
There was no disturbance along the floor and walls of the library that she could see. Other than the writing on the wall, nothing seemed out of place. No blood on the floors, or along the bookcase.
It was insanity to her that she was searching for evidence of her husband’s blood.
Exhausted, she sat down in the nearest chair, unable to think of what else she could do. But maybe Oliver was about to be found, alive and well, and this whole sordid episode was over. They would be on their way, ideally immediately. This place and these people, she would be quite happy to see the backs on all of it.
Chapter 12
THE LOOK IN MR. WEBER’S EYES showed they hadn’t found anything in the search of the hotel. Disappointment bit deep and it seemed Clemmie’s worst fears were being made real. To some degree, the shock of this had already passed, but the confirmation left a stark emptiness.
She truly didn’t know what to do now. There was nothing left to search. They’d searched everywhere. It seemed he wasn’t in the vicinity of the hotel. How could that be? Had he been kidnapped and dumped somewhere too far away for them to find?
Could it be that he’d left of his own volition, without word, and without his carriage? That would be callousness beyond what she believed him capable of. Now she had to question if everything she knew about him had been false. Had she fallen for a pretense? Why would he do that? Could it be she hadn’t picked up on his sheer hatred of her? No, Oliver wasn’t like that. She couldn’t believe it.
And there was proof that something really strange was happening here. Someone had made a threat of some kind on the wall in the library, and it seemed Oliver had been caught up in whatever misdeeds were happening here. So where was he? Where could he be?
It was clear that he hadn’t been dumped somewhere on the mountain. The searchers would have found him. They could have carried him away beyond where he would be found. And him not being able to make his way back here meant he was either injured, dead or restrained.
This still didn’t give her any indication of what she should do.
People were gathering at the reception and it drew her attention. When she looked closer, she realized that guests were checking out of the hotel. They were leaving. After all the commotion, it wasn’t perhaps surprising. Disappearing guests, search parties,
