Chapter Three
After her ordeal at the antique shop, Brianna picked up takeout and returned to the hotel. As soon as she was done eating, she passed out as exhaustion overtook her.
The dream started instantly, bursting through her mind with a force for which she wasn’t prepared.
She rode toward the castle with a man dressed in a kilt with dark auburn hair and eyes the color of spilled ink.
When he smiled at her, dimples dented both cheeks.
Though she should be wary of him, she wasn’t.
There was something about him that put her at ease. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
“Yer safe here, lass. Dinnae fash yerself,” he said.
She fell into his arms and they kissed, a daring but sweet kiss that sent her senses reeling.
Now, morning pressed against Brianna’s closed eyes as the dream faded and she awoke, alone, in the hotel room bed. She stared at the drab ceiling, remembering the vivid dream like she was there. She touched her lips, certain she’d felt his kiss.
The castle, of course, was that of Dundale, the same castle she saw in the painting over the counter in the antique store. It must have been why it appeared in her dream.
But the man? She hadn’t a clue who he was.
She had never seen him before. Her rational mind tried to tell her she’d likely seen him somewhere—in the airport or on the Royal Mile—and he imprinted on her subconscious.
However, there was an all-too-familiar feeling that swept through her when she remembered, with clarity, the way he looked, the way he smiled at her.
She pushed aside those thoughts as she sat up, slid out of bed to stand and stretch.
She didn’t know a soul in this city. She wasn’t even sure where to start searching for Chloe and Evie.
Maybe she’d start with the local police and then head to Chloe’s place of business, the museum. She might be able to get answers there.
But first, she needed a shower and a jolt of caffeine.
She took a step toward the bathroom, but a low humming noise caught her attention.
Turning, she expected to see her phone buzzing, but it was silent.
Next to her phone was the blue velvet bag Moira had given her in the antique store.
Curious, she picked it up and felt the vibration through the material of the bag.
How strange.
Opening the drawstring, she dropped the small stone into her palm and stared down at it.
Smooth on one edge, the other two were jagged as though it were part of a bigger piece or pieces.
The lines across the stone were faded but still visible: One that looked like an arc.
Another that seemed to be part of a circle sweeping through that arc.
It emitted that low hum and a vibration that warmed against the skin of her palm.
What was it about this stone that was so intriguing? Why did Moira want her to have it?
As she stood there, staring at it, memory slammed into her with such force she sank to the edge of the bed.
Find your sisters, Brianna. They need you. Now more than ever. Without you, all will be lost.
It was Moira’s voice that flickered through her mind. Moira who had told her to find her sisters and that they needed her.
She recalled the woman saying that to her in the antique store, but afterward the memory faded away as though it was nothing more than an illusion or a dream.
But it had really happened.
Cold pricks of dread and worry settled over her. She dropped the stone back into the blue velvet bag and pulled the drawstring tight.
She had to find her sisters.
*
Much to her dismay, the hotel didn’t have regular black coffee. All they had were coffee machines offering fancy lattes and cappuccinos. She’d never developed a taste for that. Dismayed, she settled for a glass of orange juice and a dry pastry.
Once she’d eaten, she headed out; it was a short walk from the hotel to the museum stretching before her.
The wind bit through the layers she’d bundled herself in, and despite the proper clothing she’d bought, a shiver snaked down her spine.
She tugged her coat tighter, her teeth clenching against the cold.
The Caribbean heat had spoiled her. Even the faintest chill cut through her like ice now.
Before she left her hotel room, she’d stuffed the strange little stone still in the bag in the front pocket of her jeans. And despite it buried inside the layers of velvet and denim, she still felt the weak vibration as it continued to hum.
She kept her hands shoved deep into her pockets and her head down to shield her face from the stinging wind, so she never saw the man until he rammed into her shoulder. The moment she bounced off his hardened exterior, her head snapped up, ready to lash out at him.
He looked genuinely shocked he’d bumped into her. He reached out to her, placing hands on her upper arms to steady her as she stumbled backward. Brianna jerked her hands out of her pockets and pushed him off her as she took a step back.
“Watch it,” she snapped.
“Och, lass, I dinnae mean to do that to ye. Are ye all right?”
His Scottish brogue was so alluring she almost forgave him. Almost.
He was tall with a head of thick, wavy black hair and steely blue eyes that met hers without flinching. His face was all hard angles.
“I’m fine,” she said at last.
She didn’t spare him another glance, her focus fixed on the path ahead. Hands buried in her pockets once again, she quickened her pace, the museum looming closer with every step. Once she got there, she’d find the director and get answers about Chloe.
The Tower entrance welcomed her with its heavy doors and the faint hum of activity inside.
Her gaze swept the space until it landed on the information desk—a logical starting point.
She approached with purpose, her nerves humming in concert with the stone in her pocket.
Behind the desk, a young woman greeted visitors with a polished smile, her nameplate declaring her role as Visitor Experience Assistant.
The name tag pinned neatly to her blouse read Alex.
“Hi, Alex. I was hoping to speak to your director about an urgent matter,” Brianna said.
“I can see if she’s available.” The girl picked up the phone and dialed. After a moment, she spoke with someone—who seemed to be the director’s assistant—and then hung up. “I’m sorry she’s not available.”
“My name is Brianna Sinclair. I’m Chloe Sinclair’s sister. My sister is missing.” When her statement was met with a blank stare, Brianna added, “My sister who works here. Tell her that.”
With reluctance and annoyance flickering over her face, Alex picked up the phone again and dialed. She relayed the information to the other party and then cast a nervous glance at Brianna.
When she hung up, she said, “The director said she could spare a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Brianna moved off to the side to allow the other patrons of the museum to book their tours and buy their tickets. It wasn’t long before a young woman arrived.
“Miss Sinclair, I’m Jane, the director’s assistant. I’ll take you to her office if you’ll follow me.”
Brianna fell in step behind Jane, who led her through the museum to an office with the door slightly ajar. Jane gave a quick rap and then pushed it open and stood aside.
The museum director’s office was a blend of antique charm and professional austerity.
Bookshelves stuffed with historical volumes and dusty artifacts lined one wall.
An oversized wood desk was in the center.
Behind it, a polished woman in her late fifties with sharp eyes and salt-and-pepper hair rose to her feet.
The moment she saw Brianna she came around the desk and extended her hand.
“Miss Sinclair, I’m Director Greaves. Please have a seat. Would you like tea or water?”
“No, thanks.” Brianna took the chair in front of the desk.
“That will be all, Jane.” Director Greaves slipped behind the desk and eased down into her leather executive chair, lacing her fingers and placing her hands on the desk in front of her. “I’m sorry about your sister. It’s been quite a shock to all of us.”
“Thank you. I admit it’s been a shock to me, too. I don’t want to take much of your time, but I would like to know everything that happened the night of the gala,” Brianna said, cutting right to the chase. “I understand there was an incident?”
The director’s expression changed from concern to sorrow.
“A horrible night, that. Aye, there was an invasion. They came in and forced everyone on the ground. One of the men seemed particularly interested in one of the guests. Your other sister, I believe.”
Her breath caught. So, Evie was here with Chloe that night.
“Evie,” Brianna said, her voice weak.
The woman nodded. “Yes, I met her briefly. She was visiting for the gala. I seem to recall one of the men chased her up the stairs to the second level.”
Alarm pounded through her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. As far as I know, the police never found the men or the motive to the attack.”
“No?” Brianna asked. Hope bloomed in her breast. Maybe Evie was hiding out somewhere in the city. “Did they find Evie?”
“Not that I know of. They’ve had no leads. The strangest thing of all was nothing was stolen. Then a few days later, Chloe went missing,” Director Greaves said.
“Do you have any other information you can share with me?” Brianna asked, hope rising in her chest. “Anything at all about Chloe or Evie.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. I do sympathize with your situation, Miss Sinclair, but as I told the authorities, Chloe’s disappearance has nothing to do with the museum. It’s a personal matter. I suggest you let the police handle it.”
Not to mention Evie’s disappearance. Why would the invader chase her up the stairs? Why her and no one else? Brianna didn’t like how the woman had suddenly turned aloof.
“A personal matter? The museum was invaded, Evie is missing, and Chloe’s flat was broken into. You don’t think all that’s connected?”