Tuesday (The Days of the Week #2)

Chapter Four

I passed the hours until dinner alternating between nibbling on the provided snacks, rereading the only book in my overnight bag, and watching the rain from the window. I had never been one to sit still for long periods of time. Sitting at a desk doing paperwork was always my least favorite part of the job, preferring the hands-on aspects.

By the time Hailey returned to collect me for dinner, I was going stir crazy. I followed her through the maze-like corridors to the main stairs, trying to memorize the route. On the ground floor, we walked down a long, dim hallway to a set of double doors.

“The dining room, Dr. Blackwood,” she said, pulling the doors open.

I stepped inside, my eyes widening at the opulence. Two candelabras lit the table, their light dancing across the gold-trimmed china and sparkling crystal. The room was dominated by a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty. But only two place settings were laid out, one at the head of the table and the other to its immediate right. At the far end of the room, Ashcroft stood silhouetted against a roaring fireplace.

“Thank you, Hailey,” he said before turning.

The fire left one side of his face in shadow, and his amber eyes seemed to glow in the flickering light.

“Dr. Blackwood,” he greeted, his voice a low rumble. “I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?”

I forced a polite smile. “Yes, thank you. The room is lovely.” I paused. “Though I admit, I'm eager to begin the search for Aiden.”

Ashcroft's eyes scanned my face, unreadable. “Of course. We can discuss logistics over dinner.” He gestured to the table. “Shall we?”

Ashcroft crossed the room to pull out my chair. After a brief hesitation, I walked over to sit. The wall of heat behind me hovered for a moment before Ashcroft took his seat at the head of the table. I busied myself smoothing a starched white napkin over my lap.

As if by some silent signal, a door opened and Holloway walked in with a bottle of wine. As the butler had a murmured conversation with Ashcroft, my gaze strayed to my host. Up close, I could see the fine tailoring of his suit, the glint of gold cufflinks at his wrists. His gaze suddenly met mine and I looked away.

“An excellent vintage,” Ashcroft commented as the butler poured. “From my family's vineyard in Napa.”

I murmured my thanks as Holloway filled my glass before retreating from the room. Taking a sip, I had to admit the wine was delicious, rich and full-bodied with notes of dark fruit. But I set my glass down.

“About the search, Mr. Ashcroft,” I began, meeting his steady gaze. “I appreciate you allowing me access to your grounds. But why the insistence on me searching alone? Surely more people would cover the area faster. I could get out of your hair.”

“The grounds are quite extensive,” Ashcroft said, taking a sip of wine. “I'm afraid a thorough search could take days, even weeks.”

“All the more reason to invite a search party,” I said. “Every hour counts when looking for a missing person.” My mind drifted to a face on a milk carton, a neighbor who never returned. I shook off the memories.

Ashcroft slowly set his wine glass down. “I am allowing you to search for your own piece of mind, not because I truly believe there is a child on my property. Nothing happens on the estate without my knowledge.”

I blinked. Were his eyes darker than before? I cleared my throat to speak, but the door opened again and a middle-aged woman entered with a tray holding two shallow bowls. She set one in front of me and gave me a tight smile.

While she served Ashcroft, I looked down at the food. At first, I thought it was beef bourguignon. But the beef had an odd texture.

“Mushrooms,” Ashcroft suddenly said.

I glanced up to see him watching me. I raised an eyebrow.

“I prefer not to eat meat for the evening meal, so the cook uses portobello mushrooms for this dish.” He picked up his spoon. “I assure you, it is still quite delicious.”

Something about his tone made me fumble my silverware. I licked dry lips and took a bite of the hearty stew. I barely bit back a sound of appreciation.

“It’s very good,” I said after I swallowed.

As we ate, I wondered how or if I should bring up the search party again. Ashcroft seemed firmly against it. In the study, he said he did not want strangers on his property. Yet, he seemed fine with my presence.

“How long have lived in town, Dr. Blackwood?” Ashcroft asked.

The question caught me off guard. I paused with my spoon halfway to my mouth. “Five years,” I said, studying him. “I moved here right after finishing my residency.”

Ashcroft nodded, his amber gaze never leaving my face. “And what brought you to our quaint little village? It seems an odd choice for a young doctor.”

I set my spoon down, considering my answer. “I wanted to practice medicine in a place where I could get to know my patients. Make a difference in a community.” I shrugged. “Big cities have their appeal, but I prefer a slower pace.”

Something flickered in Ashcroft's eyes, gone too quickly for me to decipher. “Admirable,” he murmured. “The village is lucky to have you.”

I inclined my head in acknowledgment of the compliment, unsure how to respond. I took another bite.

“Tell me, Dr. Blackwood,” he said, refilling my wine glass. “What do the villagers say about me? About the estate?”

I nearly choked on my mouthful of stew. Swallowing hard, I met his steady gaze. “I don't put much stock in rumors, Mr. Ashcroft.”

“I see.” He leaned back in his chair, eyeing me over the rim of his wine glass. “But there are rumors.”

“Mr. Ashcroft—”

“Please,” he interrupted smoothly, “call me William.”

I blinked, thrown off balance by the sudden informality. “William, then. I have no interest in silly stories. My only concern is for Aiden.”

A clock chimed somewhere in the house, the sound echoing through the halls.

Ashcroft tensed almost imperceptibly. “My apologies, Dr. Blackwood, but I'm afraid I have some urgent business to attend to. Holloway will see to anything you need. We can discuss the search over breakfast.”

Before I could say anything, he was gone, leaving me alone in the large dining room. I listened to all seven chimes of the clock. When the last chime faded, the silence returned more oppressive than before. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Holloway appeared at my elbow.

“Would you care for dessert, madam?” he asked. “Or perhaps you'd like to retire to your room?”

I shook my head, still processing Ashcroft’s abrupt departure. “Actually, I think I'll take a short walk in the gardens if that's allowed. I could use some fresh air.”

Holloway stiffened. “The grounds can be...treacherous at night. Staff and visitors are requested to stay inside after sunset.”

I raised my eyebrows at Holloway's response. “Treacherous? In what way?”

The butler's face remained impassive. “The grounds are quite expansive, Dr. Blackwood. It is easy to become disoriented in the dark. For your own safety, it is best to remain indoors until morning.”

Something about his tone made me uneasy. I pushed back my chair and stood.

“Maybe, a walk through the halls then,” I said. “I need to stretch my legs after being cooped up all afternoon.”

Holloway pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly displeased with the idea. But after a long moment, he gave a curt nod. “Very well. But please stay inside and stick to the ground floor. Hailey will find you to escort you to your room in an hour.”

“Of course,” I nodded.

I waited until he vanished through the kitchen door before I got up and headed for the hallway. The manor seemed to take on a different character at night. The shadows felt deeper, the silence more profound. As I wandered the dimly lit corridors, my footsteps echoed off the high ceilings.

I paused to study a large oil painting depicting a forest scene. In a clearing, a wolf stood over a stag, its throat ripped out while blood dripped from the wolf’s jaws. The stag’s eyes were glassy, but its mouth was still open in a death cry. A shiver ran down my spine.

I tore my gaze away from the grisly painting and continued down the hallway. At the end of the corridor was a large stained-glass window and service stairs on the right. I stepped closer, my eyes tracing the intricate design - a large tree with skeletal branches, its trunk twisted and gnarled. The longer I looked, the more it seemed the branches were expanding. Looming.

I shook my head at myself. As I turned to head back the other way, I heard something outside. I cocked my head, listening. There it was again. Faint, but unmistakable. A long, lonely howl.