“Stop it, Summer. Tell me what’s happening!” Victor yells following her and grabbing her by her upper arms. He gives a quick shake, “Talk to me!”
Tarrah watches and begins picking up the flyers up from all over the floor. When she approaches the desk, Summer screams, “NO! Don’t touch it!”
Tarrah jumps and looks back in fear. “Touch what?”
“He found me, Victor. I'm out of time now. I have to leave.” Summer jerks free from his grasp and moves to the desk and points without looking at him.
“Tarrah, where did this tin come from?” she asks in a deathly calm voice. Victor moves close, and the color fades from his face, as he begins to put the pieces together.
“I don't know, Miss Denning, I don't sort the mail, the housekeeper does.”
“Assemble the staff immediately, Tarrah?” He demands.
“Straight away, Mr. Yates,” Tarrah replies softly and hurries from the room.
“Victor, we have to know who touched it,” Summer stresses.
“Are you sure it’s the same...” she stomps to the desk and looks closely at the silver tin identical to the one Rudolph Jung gave to her family on the ship.
“Yes,” she whispers and turns to grab the metal tongs from the fireplace.
“Leave it, Summer. I don’t want you near it.” Victor pulls her into his arms. “Look at me,” he demands.
Summer looks up into his face, and he promises, “It's going to be okay.”
She drops her forehead to his chest, and the sobs rack her body. “How can you say that?” The past has shown her that not everything works out as it should. This monster will never stop hunting her, she pushes out of his arms walking to wash her hands and wipe her face.
“I promise you, we will figure this out together.” He grabs a wooden box used to hold jewelry and dumps the contents on the table. Then, using the tongs grasps the tin carefully and places it inside. Snapping the lid closed he states, “Summer, I want you by my side to talk to the staff. What are we looking for?”
“Of course, okay,” she inhales and tries to calm her heart. “We need to know who delivered it and who actually touched it. With my parents…. Oh my God. I can’t….”
“Yes, you can. No one knows the protocol better than you do. Make it work for us,” he instructs cutting through her panic.
“They ingested it, and I didn't, the tins seemed to be his calling card. He did this on purpose to incite fear,” she whispers, and rage fills her soul.
“Exactly,” Victor says. “Let's go talk to the staff.” He pulls her from the room, and they head to the large living room off the kitchen, where the staff is murmuring. “Alright, I need to know who delivered the mail, who sorted it and delivered this to Miss Denning’s room. I need to know everyone who has touched this tin. If you didn’t, you are free to go.”
Everyone leaves the room except the housekeeper, “Mr. Yates, I accepted the mail from a young boy. He said he was paid to deliver the gift to Miss Denning. I immediately put it in her room. No one else touched it,” she says, wringing her hands.
“Did you open it?” Summer asks.
“No, of course not.”
“Good. We can only hope the contaminant is inside the tin. You will need to be in isolation for ten days. No contact with anyone except for our staff. The guest house is a perfect choice.”
“Isolation for what?” The woman asks.
Victor begins to guide her from the room as he speaks. “We aren’t sure, but you will be paid for your time. We will put you in the guest house and if you show no symptoms in a few days, consider it a vacation.” Victor takes her to the guest house to get settled and Summer steps into the darkening gardens.
Looking up at the stars she knows she has to do something, “I will never be free until he is stopped for good.” Her plan begins to come together. She returns to her suite and waits for Victor.
Summer is staring at the box and is holding the note Dr. Jung sent with it. Furious, she balls it up and is about to toss it into the fire when Victor walks in.
“Don’t! We need it for evidence.” He takes the note and unfolds it and reads aloud in perfect German.
“Sie haben ihren weg. Ich habe meinen weg. Wie für den richtigen weg, der richtige weg, und der einzige weg, existiert es nicht.
Bis wir uns wieder treffe.
Summer translates, “You have your way, and I have mine. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.
Until we meet again.”
The room is silent for a moment as he stares at her. “Bastard is quoting Nietzsche!” Victor snarls.
“Do you understand now? He will never stop tormenting me. None of you are safe.” Summer turns to walk away and stops when he responds.
“You’re right. He must be stopped, Summer, but not at the expense of your life.”
She whips around and glares at him, “Then at the expense of your life or your sons? How big of a price are you willing to pay, Victor?”
“I am not going to be the one to pay, he is,” Victor snarls. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I met with a detective and hired him to hunt down this monster. He is searching for him as we speak.”
Astonishment flickers across her face, “Really?” Her knees begin to tremble, and she sits heavily in a chair by the fireplace. Victor crosses to her and drops to his knees
