Page 24 of Break Me: Smith and Belle

She was probably right about that, but Rowan might not cooperate. He was grumpy on his best days. I couldn’t imagine he’d appreciate an interrogation.

I speared another bite of sausage. “After breakfast.”

We found Rowan near the stables, tending to the landscaping he’d installed around the Bless offices. The snow was wreaking havoc on a number of the rose bushes he’d been caring for through the fall. As we approached, I caught a string of muttered curses as he scooped mounds of snow away from the flowers.

“See why we’re not worried,” I said under my breath.

“He still might know something.”

As we approached, Rowan whipped around, taking a defensive posture like he’d been cornered. He relaxed when he saw my face. “Oh, it’s you.”

It was a good thing the man worked with plants more than people. “How’s it coming?”

Georgia shot me a look that said she didn’t approve buttering him up, but didn’t speak.

Judging by the look on Rowan’s weathered face, he didn’t approve of small talk either.

“Fine. Wish this bloody snow would stop.” He shook a bit more snow off his precious plants and continued, “Heard there was a bit of excitement here last night.”

Rowan, unlike the rest of the staff, didn’t live on the estate. He had a home in the village. I had no idea why, given that he seemed to be here during every daylight hour and then some. He was always on property before I’d risen for the day and never left before supper.

“Yes. An accident,” I told him.

“Thornham’s always had more than its fair share of accidents,” he said darkly.

“Actually,” Georgia jumped in, seizing her window of opportunity as soon as he spoke. “That’s what we want to talk to you about.”

“About what?” He raised one bushy eyebrow, pausing to reach for a shovel before starting to clear the path leading to the offices.

“That’s not necessary,” I said. “I doubt Belle will make it into the office today.”

“It’s better to do it now than let more collect,” he said stubbornly and continued his work.

“We wanted to ask you about your old job,” Georgia said, shifting the conversation back to what we had come to discuss. “More specifically about when you worked here before.”

“It was nearly fifty years ago.” He paused and rested the shovel in the snow. “And I didn’t work here for long.”

“We were just curious. We’ve heard some stories in the village,” I said. I didn’t want to press the old man. If he was unwilling to share, so be it.

“I was only eighteen. They kept a full staff of gardeners,” he explained. “Like I said, I wasn’t here that long.”

“Okay, then, “Georgia said in a disappointed tone.

“But my older brother had been working here for five years before the disappearances,” Rowan went on. He went back to shoveling and continued, “The stories he told. Like I said, lots of accidents.”

“What kind of accidents?” I asked. Maybe it was the cold air around me or the snow, but my body seemed to be kicking into some type of survival mode. Blood roared in my ears. Why hadn’t we learned about Thornham’s past before we purchased the place? Why did I think it mattered now?

“Little ones, most of them,” Rowan said as though this explained it. “One child would push another. A broken arm. Then there was the incident on the roof.”

“The roof?” Georgia repeated.

“Some say one of the girls slipped,” he said. “Others say she jumped. She claims she was pushed.”

“She fell off the roof?” I asked, my gaze traveling instinctively to look at the house. Even at this distance, it loomed along the horizon. I couldn’t imagine anyone surviving that fall, especially with the driveway below.

“Not that roof,” he said. He pointed the shovel at the former stables. “That roof.”

“Was she okay?” Georgia asked.