Unease settled over me, but when I looked at my dad, I shrugged it off. There was no time to stew over Lachlan’s distant behavior. We had an estate to secure—and a killer to find.
* * *
After kissing Lucy’s warm cheek, I leaned away from her and returned her soft smile. Hers was sleepy but at least it was there. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too, gorgeous,” she murmured and closed her eyes.
I drifted away from her bed, my attention moving to Lachlan who stood at the footboard watching his friend, steadfastly not looking at me.
That niggle in my gut returned.
I was surprised Lucy hadn’t upped and fled Ardnoch, but Lachlan said she insisted on staying, that no one was chasing her away while he needed her.
Did he need her?
Studying him watching over her like a grim guardian angel, I thought perhaps he did.
“I can stay,” I offered. “Let you sleep.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m good here.”
There was an unpleasant twinge in my chest. “I could keep you company, if you need to talk.”
Now he looked at me. “I don’t. You should go. There are things to be done. Aren’t there?”
He was so cold.
So far away.
I experienced another pained sensation. “Right. Well, I’m around if you …” I trailed off and stalked out of the bedroom. Squeezing past Lucy’s bodyguards, I strolled down the hall with my head held high.
If Lachlan didn’t need me, that was fine.
Mac did. He was determined to find the bastard who killed McHugh. So was I. We had to figure this out together.
* * *
Not even a walk along the beach with Mac could soothe me. The gentle lap of the water should have been calming, but all I kept thinking about was Lucy and McHugh.
“There has to be something we’re missing from that footage,” I said for the hundredth time.
Mac sighed at my side. “We’ve checked it over and over. So have the police.”
While the security team was distracted by the cameras down at the gate, our masked assailant broke into the castle. We’d caught him on several cameras. From what we could piece together, he’d broken into Lucy’s room. She had no recollection of the encounter, but we had him on camera, brazenly carrying her unconscious body over his shoulder through the castle down to the kitchens. McHugh was on his way to check the camera situation down at the gate when he heard something and followed the noise. From what we could ascertain from the footage, the assailant heard McHugh before he saw him, hid Lucy out of sight, and waited behind the kitchen door.
Studying it was chilling. I wanted to scream at the cameras, to warn McHugh to watch out.
But, of course, it was too late. McHugh walked into the kitchen, our killer stepped into sight much like he’d done to Mac outside his cottage, and stabbed the security guard several times in the gut before the man had time to react.
As a cop, I’d seen lots of horrible things. Even had them done to me. It didn’t make watching that play out any less devastating. Unlike Mac, whose major organs were miraculously missed, the masked man used a long kitchen knife and stabbed McHugh six times, perforating his major organs. He had a wife, a baby boy. Now they no longer had a husband and a father because I hadn’t stopped this bastard already.
“Stop blaming yourself, Robyn.”
“I can’t help it. We’re not exactly dealing with a mastermind here, and yet he’s left behind barely any clues. McHugh is dead. Lucy had hypothermia—”
“But is alive and well.”
“And Lachlan’s business is in jeopardy.” Just as Mac had relayed to Lachlan that first morning after the murder, once the members found out, they started fleeing the estate. Adair called in extra security for both the club and his family. And not just because of the killer but because of the press. Someone leaked the story of Greg McHugh’s murder, and it was all over the papers two days after the attack.
While paparazzi couldn’t get onto the estate, they flooded into the village. They received ice-cold treatment from Ardnoch residents, many of whom “reserved the right not to serve them,” but it didn’t deter the paparazzi. Having them around was making us all uptight and anxious.
Plus, I couldn’t forget the new evidence that landed in our laps, making everything all the more confusing.
When Lachlan called Brodan’s head of security to inform them that the people he cared about were in jeopardy, he discovered Brodan’s team was dealing with threatening messages too. That put a whole new spin on it. They sent us their received messages, which were less lovelorn but more vengeful with threats of ruin and misery. While they had a different tone to Lachlan’s—and might just be a coincidence—we couldn’t discount the possible connection.
“Maybe we’re dealing with two people with vendettas against the Adairs, and they’ve joined forces. It would explain a lot.”
“It is possible,” Mac conceded. “But I wish it wasn’t. It’s bad enough trying to figure out who our masked killer is.”
Killer.
How did we get here? We’d progressed from a high-level threat to red blinking lights and screaming sirens. My escape that night in the trailer took on an even more chilling edge than before.
“Do you still think it’s McCulloch?” Mac asked.
The thought of the farmer taking it this far didn’t sit right in my gut, but he was still the one with the clearest motive. “Grief is a strange thing, Dad. Who knows? It could be he started this and his only intention was to ruin Lachlan’s business—mission possibly accomplished—and whoever he joined forces with has crossed the line.”
“You don’t think he’s a murderer?”
“Do you?” I frowned. “I mean … I do get very angry vibes from him, but I don’t know. And I can’t cross him off the list for an ‘I don’t know.’”
“If it makes you feel better, my gut
