Oliver bit back an extremely judgmental comment regarding Mrs. O’Shea’s inability to see the drama between the young women in her own home. Had she never truly realized how toxic Lysette was toward Emme and Madeline both?
He wouldn’t insult her, but the time for blissful ignorance had come to an end. “Mrs. O’Shea, Lysette is a jealous and vindictive young woman. She has been extremely unkind to Emmeline for some time, and I fear her envy and cruelty have reached new heights. Have you no idea at all where she might take your daughter?”
Mrs. O’Shea stared at him for a long time before finally releasing a quiet breath. She dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief and then said, “I suppose I have seen such behavior. I haven’t wanted to, and Emme is so fiercely independent. So competent. She was running our household long before I married, and she is so willful I never imagined she needed . . .” Her voice wobbled. “Protection.” She swallowed and looked at Oliver. The room was silent. “I do not know where Lysette might take Emmeline, but I do know her tastes are extravagant. Hotels? Boardinghouses in New Town?”
Oliver looked at Conley, who nodded. “We’ve men searching everywhere right now. Most rooms and accommodations have been reserved for months in advance, however, and thus far, nobody meeting the young women’s descriptions have been noticed.”
Oliver stood and motioned to Conley as a soft knock on the door heralded fresh tea. Giancarlo busied himself tending to Mrs. O’Shea, and Oliver’s anxiety climbed as he considered possible options.
“Sir,” he said quietly to Conley, “if you were going to abduct someone and keep them from view, where in this city would you take them? I imagine there are poorer areas, workhouses, unsavory spots where people might turn a blind eye for a few coin.”
Conley nodded. “I’ve spoken with local officials, and constabulary are searching Old Town and pockets outside the city.” He scratched the back of his neck, and Oliver noted the signs of fatigue and stress on his superior’s face. “What of this ‘Gus’ fellow? He seems to have contacts in nearly every nook and cranny I search. Ought I to send men with him? He may be the best resource here.”
Oliver nodded. “Do you know where he is now?”
“No, and he is easily lost in a crowd.” Conley frowned. “I’ve heard something about him I’m finding difficult to believe.”
“That he is not . . . alive?”
The confusion on Conley’s face was comical. “How can it be, though—”
“I’m learning there are many things about that part of the population we’ve yet to understand.”
“He’d make a fine detective.”
Oliver nodded. He thought of Gus’s easy movements through the countryside, of his network of people who trusted him and with whom he traded favors and information. “I must find him. If anybody can track her, I believe he can.”
Oliver left the ISRO building, promising to check in with Conley every hour. They met several times as the day wore on, comparing notes and marking spots on a large map of the city, places they had looked but failed to find any trace of either Lysette, Emme, or even Gus. He thought he spied his brother in the crowded streets more than once, but quick chases proved fruitless.
The skies were gray, and a light rain sprinkled intermittently. Throngs of people enjoying the festivities popped open umbrellas and continued visiting tents and buildings that hosted contingencies from various countries. Music sounded from multiple establishments up and down the Royal Mile and along Princes Street Gardens. The gardens were full to bursting with people from all walks of life, enjoying games, treats, and trying foods from foreign lands.
He was famished and weak and realized it only when he received a message from Miles that he and their friends were meeting for a quick dinner.
He met up with them but didn’t stay; Isla and Daniel went with him to purchase a meat pie from a vendor, and they searched together while the others ate at the hotel. They set up a command center of their own in Sam and Hazel’s room, and between that support and his communication with Conley and law enforcement, he had a sense of which ground had been covered.
The hours marched forward relentlessly, and as outdoor lights twinkled to life and the daylight faded into darkness, the world seemed to celebrate in cozy oblivion while Oliver held on to his hope with only the most tenuous of threads. Isla was sick with worry; she was also a person who solved problems with action, and that they were met time after time with blank faces and negative responses was clearly wearing on her.
They separated to cover more ground, but he honestly couldn’t imagine a corner of the city that hadn’t been combed by now by the small army of people out searching. He trudged toward the old castle, which was lit with torches and played host to a double-stringed quartet that entertained those gathering for the final remarks.
Twelve state representatives and their staffs were gathering for the event, and according to all accounts, were prepared to vote on a multinational agreement adopting new standards and legislation for shape-shifter rights. Oliver swallowed past a lump in his throat when he considered all of the meetings, dinners, gatherings, and festivities Emme had missed. Local news reports splashed headlines that proclaimed the Summit an incredible success, a touchstone, and tremendous beginning to a new era.
News that Emme was missing was also spreading. Giancarlo told Oliver that in the last several days, her absence at multiple events had been remarked upon. Now that a small force of people was out looking for her prompted chatter that was spreading like wildfire. It told Oliver that the world did indeed know who Emmeline O’Shea was and that she was admired more than she knew. The only bright spot was that the entire city seemed to
