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Dewey plopped back into the seat with a sigh. “I’ve never been anywhere outside of Romania or the Shadow Harbor Library’s archives.”
Paige offered him a rueful glance. “Then I guess we’ll get to experience new things together. I’ve only been to Grayburgh and Shadow Harbor.”
Dewey raised his eyebrows, shooting her a surprised glance. “Really?”
“Yep. Never left the country until now.”
“And then you did three countries in the span of as many days,” Dewey said with a chuckle, kicking his feet onto the seat as he laughed.
“I guess I know how to make up for lost time.” Paige ducked her head, staring out the windshield at a structure looming on the hill. “Whoa, is that the castle?”
Dewey checked the GPS on her phone. “Looks like it.”
Paige aimed the vehicle for the tall, tan structure, passing between two stone columns on a gravel drive. She eased the car to a stop in a designated parking area near the castle.
With Dewey zipped into his carrier, she climbed from the car and stared upward at the tall turrets and towers. Flags blew in the evening breeze, and the stones took on a red cast from the setting sun.
Paige wrinkled her nose as she studied the crumbling bricks, ivy climbing them in several spots. In the dim, dusky light, the castle looming over her had an eerie countenance.
“Are you sure there aren’t ghosts?”
“I’m beginning to wonder,” Dewey asked as he eyed it through the mesh.
Paige wrangled her bag from the car and kicked the door shut before she lumbered to the castle’s front door. “I can’t wait to stretch out in bed. I think my legs are permanently kinked from that car ride.”
“I’m hungry, too,” Dewey said. “I hope they have room service.”
“Me too,” Paige said as she swung the massive door inward on creaky hinges.
She stepped inside the large entrance. A fire roared in the stone fireplace across the space. Paige stepped onto the hardwood, the centuries-old flooring groaning under her weight.
“Hello?” she called, voice echoing off the stone walls.
She flicked a glance at the four armchairs grouped around the inviting fire. Empty. She strode toward them and sank into one, appreciating the warmth radiating from the fireplace.
Her eyes rose to a portrait above it. She stood and leaned forward, squinting at the nameplate.
“Finley Colville,” she read aloud, letting her eyes rise to stare at the kilt-clad man depicted in the portrait. “We’re in the right place.”
“Talking to the ghosts?” a Scottish voice inquired from behind her.
Paige leapt into the air, spinning around to face the short, round woman. She adjusted her glasses as she collected her bags and strode toward her.
“No, just reading the nameplate out loud.” She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Paige Turner. I booked a room here.”
The woman slid a laptop from inside a roll-top desk and popped it open, introducing herself as Helen, the proprietor. “I was just building a fire in your suite. It’ll be nice and toasty when you get up there.”
“Thanks,” Paige said as she dug in her bag and produced a credit card.
“On vacation?” the woman asked as she typed the numbers into the laptop.
“No,” Paige said with a shake of her head.
The woman raised her eyebrows as she handed the card back. “Oh, on business?”
“No,” Paige answered. “I mean, yes. Well, sort of.” She adjusted the glasses on her nose as she explained. “I was attending a work conference in Edinburgh and decided to take a trip north for some sightseeing. So, both, I guess.”
The woman smiled and nodded as a printer sprang to life under the desk. She whipped a paper from the top of it and handed it to Paige. “Two nights’ stay.”
