Even worse… that the Veronian might be Derek Dyers.
As it stands, this is like a bad sequel ofSpy Kids. The voices are all young, and Alec actually blindfolded me before transferring me to a different vehicle that brought me to wherever I currently am. Only the fact that I haven’t been arrested for killing Harrington Jr. tells me these guys don’t fuck around.
A murder happened on their property.
No one has questioned me about the guy’s disappearance.
And a body’s gone missing…
The Veronians might make me roll my eyes at their pomp and ceremony, but this is serious, their power is far-reaching, and as much as I mock their rituals, the time for messing around has passed.
The car door opens.
“You can take off the blindfold now.”
Grateful, I comply and stare at the guy—still Alec, but the other’s vanished.
Behind him, there’s what appears to be a country club.
“You should head toward the pool. It’s signposted.”
“What?” I pull a face. “Do you provide swimwear?”
“Giving random people bathing suits is precisely how I want to spend my night,” he deadpans.
“No need to be rude,” I proclaim.
“Look, time’s of the essence. Don’t waste it talking to me.”
Nervous now, I step from the car, thankful that he holds out his hand to help. My skirt is tight and whatever’s about to unfold, I would have preferred to be wearing anything that wasn’t a ballgown.
Still, I shove my annoyances aside and I wise up.
Above the door, there’s a sign for Mt. Palisades Country Club, est. 1896. So, a place that’s well known by locals. If memory serves, we’re halfway between the city and Poughkeepsie and this is a swanky area—mega money.
That in mind, I step inside. The establishment confirms it—it’s luxe and for the local rich fucks.
It’s also deserted.
Not too surprising at this hour, until I see a sign at the back.
Charity Auction
So, a fundraiser.
No way would it empty out this early. The staff might wish members would go home, but that’s highly doubtful at—rather handily, a grandfather clock chimes somewhere—11 PM.
I see the sign for the swimming pool and I follow it. All around me, there’s evidence of a party being held and one that was abandoned abruptly.
Flutes and wineglasses are toppled over—more than usual for a drunken crowd. The floor’s sticky with discarded drinks and the tables are at odd angles, like there was a mass exodus and everyone barged out.
The band’s mic is still buzzing, as if they forgot to turn it off before leaving.
The mirror ball’s turning and it sends refracted rainbows around the empty chamber like the world’s most boring party.
I head deeper into the building and discern the location of the pool outside. I can see it through a conservatory—steam rises from the surface, telling me it’s heated. The lights glow and reflect a lovelyturquoise off the white building. My gaze darts to the black mass at the back and I have to reckon that’s a golf course or tennis courts.
But Alec said I had to get to the pool.
