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Soon they were stopping outside a floodlit Victorian manor house. Christmas lights were wound around the columns at the entrance. A valet opened the car doors, and Jesse stepped out into the icy wind. He could hear an orchestra playing Christmas music and smell spices and champagne in the air.
“My lord,” a smartly dressed man in a red tie was saying, smiling at Emory as the car pulled away. “The mayor is expecting you. If you would like to follow me?”
They were shown through a side door with a coded lock and a motion sensor set in the frame. Jesse memorized the code out of habit then the red-tied man was leading them down a richly furnished corridor with oil paintings on the walls and Persian rugs under their feet.
“The mayor will be with you shortly, my lord,” he said, opening a door.
“Thank you,” Magnusson said, pulling off his gloves. “I trust she won’t mind if my security manager takes a look around?”
“Not at all, sir,” the red-tied man said with a narrow look at Jesse.
Emory drifted into the room. Greenway followed, throwing Jesse a loaded look before she closed the door.
“Can I help you with anything in particular? Sir?” The man deliberately added the last as an afterthought. The suggestion of a sneer curled his lip.
“I’m good, mate. You run along and get that mayor now. The baron’s waiting and all.”
The man’s face pinched then he turned on his heel and marched away. Jesse muttered under his breath then brought out his phone. He took a moment to scan the door frame but found no electrical currents that would indicate any hidden recording equipment. He moved farther down the corridor.
There were motion sensors set in the wall at regular intervals and a camera at the junction of the hallway that led to the main entrance and what Jesse guessed was a ballroom. The music and voices got louder, the smells of food and drink stronger. Servants hurried by with trays. A well-dressed security guard stood to one side, nodding to the guests as they arrived.
Jesse scanned the entrance hall, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, then moved outside to check the front of the house. He spotted some large security floodlights, currently deactivated, and more cameras. He shivered and made his way to the window of the room where Emory and the mayor were having their meeting. Again, he scanned but again…nothing.
He shook his head, wondering if his boss was careful or paranoid, but completed a circuit of the whole building, just to be sure. He found nothing beyond a standard CCTV set-up and more security lights. He went back in at the key-coded entrance, stamping his feet in the cold and found the corridor beyond deserted. He could hear the sound of soft voices behind the closed door of the meeting room but otherwise, all was quiet.
He wandered to the ballroom, scanning the faces of the servants and guests for anyone who might be a journalist or an intruder looking to snag the next viral video of a haemophile. But everyone in sight was obviously rich, elegant, laughing and totally absorbed in themselves.
Jesse hunched his shoulders as he skirted the edge of the ballroom. The orchestra was so loud and the laughter so raucous that it set his nerves jangling. He made straight for the bar and buffet table, searched fruitlessly for beer and grabbed a flute of champagne instead.
It was then he spotted a small figure slumped on the floor at the foot of the towering Christmas tree. She was in a crystal-pink party dress. Her light hair was teased into ringlets and tied with a matching ribbon. Her bottom lip stuck out as she pushed a wooden car, a decoration from the tree, back and forth on the carpet with her chin propped on her fist. A flustered-looking woman Jesse vaguely recognized came over to the child and yanked her to her feet, smoothed her dress and scolded her in an undertone. She snatched the car off her, hung it back on the tree then drifted back into the crowd. The girl stuck her tongue out at the retreating figure and slouched once again to the floor with a scowl.
Jesse moved over, making sure the woman was out of sight, then crouched down next to the girl.
“Hey there. Dimity, right?”
She looked up, her eyes round. She blinked. “You’re the man who bought me that ice cream.”
“Sure am,” Jesse said, going for a reassuring smile. “How’s it going?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You look different.”
“Do I?”
“You did something to your hair. Your old clothes were better, too.”
Jesse chuckled and loosened the tie. “I have to agree with you on that one. But hey, why are you down here all by yourself?”
She screwed up her face. “There are no other boys or girls here, but they made me come down anyway. I wanted to draw in my room. Hey…” Her face brightened. “Is that boy here? Olly? Did you bring him?”
“No, sorry, honey. I’m here working.” Her face fell. “Why are you here if there are no other kids here, huh?”
Her lips pressed together. “Aunt Helena says we have to stay here for Christmas.”
“Well, that’s not bad, is it? Pretty fancy place for Christmas—big tree and all.”
“Yeah,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “The tree is nice, though I’m not allowed to touch it. But…” She cut off as inhaled sharply, fighting tears.
“But what, sweetie?”
