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She used a rusty wine opener lying on one of the crates to uncork the bottle.
Nothing.
“Shit,” she muttered.
Was she just wrong about all of this? Was it just a wine cellar only with no wine?
But the one constant in Clarisse’s life was attention to detail. Her hundreds of notebooks compiled over the years would attest to that. So she examined the cork closely in case something was embedded in it. She hit the glass with her light to see if there was any writing or clue on it.
And then her attention turned to the wine label. It was not entirely affixed to the glass. One edge was curled up. She slowly and carefully removed it. The folded-up slip of paper secreted behind it fell out.
A messageoutsidea bottle. How quaint, Harry.
However, the message was anything but quaint.
This is the twenty-first century. Act like it, you idiot.
She stared at the paper for a few moments before slipping it into her pocket.
Twenty-first century?
Okay, that could mean a number of different things, some apparent, others not. She had just started pondering a few of the more obvious ones when she heard a noise from above.
As she listened, it was repeated.
It seemed she was not the only person at Stormfield tonight.
CHAPTER61
CLARISSE’S HAND CLOSED AROUND THEpepper spray as she quietly left the wine cellar and made her way slowly upward. She didn’t want to be trapped in the bowels of the place with no way out.
She felt her breath quicken as she reached the main level and cautiously peered around. Clarisse didn’t dare use her flashlight. She listened for additional sounds, but the quiet remained unbroken.
Did they hear me? Are they waiting for me to show myself?
Who could it be? she wondered. The ones who had come here and killed Langhorne? She shuddered at encounteringheragain. Was it the police? But why would they come in the middle of the night? Was it Nathan Trask’s men, looking for the treasure, too? And if they found her here?
That would likely be the end of me.
She kept moving forward, growing ever closer to the front door.
What she would give to be back in her safe quarters surrounded by her notebooks with their comforting details.
She heard another noise; it sounded like one person. Then it all depended on who that one person was. She put the message she had found in the bottle into her mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed the gummy remains. If the person found her, they would not find what she had.
Next, the assertive steps she had heard up to now turned to stealth.
Maybe she had left wet footprints in the entrance hall. Or had they noticed her car parked along the road?
She screamed when the hand clenched her shoulder.
She looked up into the face of the tall, strongly built man.
“What are you doing here? Who are you?”
The pepper spray hit him right in the face, causing him to drop his flashlight, clutch his face, and stagger backward. He slammed into the wall.
“God damn it!” he cried out in pain.
