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I don’t ask how he has a key. People leave backup keys in safe places. The castle would certainly be Echo’s second home and safe place. I hug myself and watch Jax reach for the lock only to catch his hand with a thought. “The Walker team is shadowing us right now, right?”
“Yes. And they’re watching the house. I told Savage we were headed over here.”
Relief washes over me, and I let go of his hand. He leans over and kisses me. “Relax, baby. We aren’t going to find Echo or anything dangerous inside. Walker has been here. I’m just hoping I find a clue to tell us where he went that they wouldn’t understand.”
I nod and he unlocks the door, pushing it open. “I’ll go in first,” he says, stepping inside to look around. All must appear well, because about thirty seconds later, he leans out of the door, catches my hand and pulls me inside. Jax shuts the door behind us and I find myself scanning a basic room with white tile, and furnished with brown couches. The kitchen is to my left, with nothing but a white tile island separating the two rooms.
“I’m going to walk around and see what I can find,” Jax announces.
I nod, and he heads down a hallway. I stay put and walk the living area and kitchen, checking empty drawers for travel plans but for the most part, they’re empty. There really isn’t much to see. The one thing that catches my attention is an antique grandfather clock that is rather out of place with the décor, it’s ticking a sharp, hard bite through the near silence that creeps me out. Shivering, I quickly follow Jax down the hallway. I catch a glimpse of him exiting one room and disappearing into another and when I would join him, I glance left to find an office. I step inside and literally gasp at a giant portrait of a woman in redbehind the desk, her back to the viewer, the dress blowing in the wind with the castle in the background.
Jax, obviously responding to my reaction, rushes into the room. “What happened?”
I motion to the painting. “That.”
“That was done by my father decades ago, before I was even born. At the time, the staff was buzzing with sightings of the woman in red and much like my mother and her red dress, he embraced her as part of the castle. There are several in random places in the castle. He contracted an artist to do them.”
I glance over at him. “This ghost is a real thing?”
“Yes.” That’s all he says. He walks to one of the two bookshelves framing the desk.
“You’ve seen her?”
He glances over at me. “I have actually.”
“Really?”
“Believe it, baby. That’s why my mom wore that red dress.”
“When did you see her? Where?”
“Random places in the castle over the years. Eventually you will, too. Does that scare you?”
“Maybe. Do you know who she is?”
“My mother tried to find out but never figured out the mystery.”
He runs a hand over a row of photo albums. “I remember these. Echo is an amateur photographer and me and Hunter fancied ourselves the same. He gave us both cameras and we’d take photos and then come here to view the developed results. We each had our own albums.”
“A photographer, a boxer, and a brilliant businessman. You are an interesting man, Jax North.” I don’t give him time to be humble and object. “Are there photos of you as a kid in any of those?”
“Yes. And you want to see, I assume?”
“Of course.” I walk to stand next to him and grab an album from the shelf . “Now I’m dying to see but—are we invading Echo’s privacy?”
“Not with these albums. I know what’s inside. Have at it. Take a look. I’ll check his desk for any signs of where he is now.” He kisses me and walks to the desk. I take the album and sit down in a leather chair, excited to see what’s inside. I’m eager to see a young Jax, but a part of me secretly also craves a look at Hunter. Did he look like Chance when he was a child? I flip open the photo album and instead of Jax or Hunter, I find a photo of a beautiful woman with long light brown hair standing on the beach. Turning to the page, there is a collage of the same woman in all kinds of poses.
“Nothing,” Jax says. “The man keeps nothing in his damn desk. It’s like he’s not even human. He must keep it all on his laptop, which isn’t here; Walker looked for that as well.”
“Have they checked his digital footprint?”
“Yes, and that’s what worries me. He hasn’t logged onto his email or used his phone in days.”
“Oh,” I say. “You didn’t tell me that. No wonder you’re worried. That’s not good.”
“No. It’s not. I feel like it’s time to call the police. Walker says the resources for these types of cases are limited. They’ll still have to run the investigation but to appease me, they’re going to file a report.”
My mind goes back to that encounter with him again:“You know. We both know that you know. Do not test me. This is your one and only warning.”
