Chapter Twelve
Arrival
Seth
“It should be just up here, mate.”
Seth peered out into the darkness as he pointed in the direction he intended. The cab’s headlights swung around the winding gravel roadway, illuminating the sign above the gates like an ethereal spotlight.
Brock Hall.
Seth couldn’t see much of the place, the shroud of night and vast perimeter wall precluding his vision, but he’d seen enough to know Jonah hadn’t been joking about the extent of Kyle’s estate. If that was the house their mother was staying in, she’d won big. He didn’t know how she’d pulled it off or whether he trusted the man she’d bedded, but he had to hand it to her—she’d landed on her feet. Anywhere as grandiose as Brock Hall would have been well out of the Kendal family’s price range.
“We have to get past the gates first.” The cabbie glanced around at him, evidently unsure, but before the driver could turn back, the vast, black, iron-wrought gates began to open before them.
“The gates are opening.” Seth nodded as they creaked open.
The driver’s brows knitted. “How?”
“I guess they work on a sensor?” Seth shrugged. “You’ll be able to get out the same way.”
The driver seemed less convinced, but once the gates were fully open, he drove on. Seth supposed the promise of the wad of cash he was going to get at the end of the journey was enough incentive to keep his foot on the gas.
The car cut through the black, passing the outline of twisted and shadowy-looking trees before it eventually reached the front of the enormous house.
Unfastening his safety belt, Seth slid across the back seat to cast his gaze over the building. ‘House’ barely did the place justice; the colossal front door and elaborate architecture spoke more of a mansion than any regular dwelling.
He glanced back at the driver, who looked equally as stunned. “How much do I owe you?”
Reaching into his pocket, Seth doled out what he owed and slid the little remaining cash away. Collecting the handle of his bag, he nodded in the driver’s direction as he opened the back door.
“Thanks, mate.”
“You’re welcome.” The driver lifted a palm. “Enjoy your stay.”
Seth slammed the door closed and watched as the red lights of the vehicle’s rear grew smaller on the huge driveaway. Turning on the gravel, he assessed the residence that was apparently home to his mother. The place was like something out of a Dickens novel—immense and foreboding—but the entrance matched the impressive description Jonah had offered, and he’d seen the property’s name as they’d driven in. It was definitely the right place.
Taking the stone steps two at a time, he reached the front door and knocked twice, the noise of the impacts the only sound audible as the cool air twirled around him.
Nothing.
No response.
No lights visible anywhere. No sounds from inside.
No one was coming to the door.
It’s late.
He checked his watch, the basic clock face confirming it was gone eleven o’clock. Maybe his mum and Kyle had already gone to bed?
Seth didn’t love the idea of his mother being entwined in some gut-churningly romantic clinch with the rich guy she’d wooed, but he understood. She was still a comparatively young woman, and she’d been way too young when she’d married his dad and got pregnant. She deserved a little of the happiness the rich guy could provide, and he didn’t begrudge her that, but her swelling contentment wouldn’t get him a warm bed for the night. He hadn’t dodged the city crowd to spend his first night of freedom under the stars in the middle of the freezing countryside, so if nobody was going to let him in, he’d have to find his own way.
Glancing left and right, he swung his bag over his shoulder and walked back down the steps. Following the property around to the right, he pulled out his phone.
Maybe his mum was still awake, or perhaps if he messaged her, the noise of the device would stir her. Then she could let him in.
He leaned against the brickwork and typed a quick message to her.
Mum, it's Seth.
He paused, trying to remember how long it had been since he’d last seen her.
I’m out of jail, and I’m here at Brock Hall.
He imagined the surprise in her kind eyes when she read his missive.
Wanna let me in?
x
Hitting send, he flicked on the device’s flashlight and directed it around the side of the property line. The building was bloody huge, but if he kept following it, he’d have to come to a back door at some point, wouldn’t he? Rear entries generally had weaker security, so if his mum didn’t reply, he’d find a route in that way.
He didn’t stop to worry about what Kyle would think or how he’d explain his abrupt arrival to her. Even the prospect of the police being called and him ending up right back in jail didn’t perturb him the way it should. Trailing his palm along the brick, all he could think about was seeing his mum and getting a hot drink. After trailing around on his feet all day, he merited that much.
Staring at the screen, his heart fell.
No answer.
When his mum didn’t reply after a few more moments, he accepted she was probably asleep. Boy, was she going to have the shock of her life when she woke up the next day to find her eldest son already there to see her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.
His search of the building revealed an elaborate-looking spa at the back, vast glass doors overlooking what he assumed was a picturesque view of the countryside when it wasn’t wrapped in the veil of night. Trying the door handle, he sighed. The residence was thoroughly secured, and clearly, it wasn’t going to be as easy to break into the place as he’d hoped, but if prison life had taught him anything, it was that where there was a will, there was a way.
Brock Hall was where his mother was staying with the generous benefactor who’d helped his brother evade the same sticky custodial fate he’d just crawled away from. He recalled how his mother’s letters had illustrated Jonah’s lucky escape, grateful that she continued to write even when he’d told her not to come to the new facility in person.
That was the kind of woman Amy Kendal was—kind and always thinking of others. He wanted to hug her, but he also wanted to look into the eyes of the patron who’d supported her and know what sort of man he was. Jonah’s appraisal of Kyle had been short and frustratingly nebulous, but the fact his brother hadn’t been entirely sure if the man had been lying earlier was telling. Jonah was usually a decent reader of people, and he should have been able to trust the man who’d bailed him out of jail, but he hadn’t—not entirely.
Seth’s fingers grazed along the exterior door. If Jonah’s gut feeling was accurate and Kyle had been lying, then something might be wrong. Perhaps their mum was ill, and Kyle hadn’t wanted her sons interfering, or maybe there was a more malevolent motivation for his cloak-and-dagger response.
If, however, Kyle was the nice guy their mum had written to Seth about, then he’d understand her eldest son’s concerns. Sure, he’d be angry about Seth’s bullish methodology, but after Seth had apologized and the dust had settled, the guy would understand.
Either way, Seth was going to get inside and find out for himself.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his release documents. The paper exercise was a pointless waste of time, but it had gifted him one useful tool—the paperclip that attached the futile forms together. He grabbed the small piece of metal, stretching it out and creating a small hook at one end. Kneeling by the door, he shone his flashlight toward the door handle and pushed the misshapen metal into the lock before moving it around.
Time protracted as Seth attempted to fool the lock into submission. He’d tried this trick once or twice as a teenager, but his skills weren’t what they’d once been, and Kyle appeared to have the best locks on the market. He didn’t give up, though, pulling the makeshift key out and reshaping it twice before the telltale sounds of the lock disengaging raised his hopes.
“Got ya!” he whispered, conscious that a place as swanky as Brock Hall would probably have closed-circuit television surrounding it. If that was the case, though, it would already have picked him up casing the joint, as well as fashioning his improvised key, so it was better if he just got inside and talked the no-doubt irate homeowner out of prosecuting him.
As though the door had heard his logic, the lock finally yielded, allowing him to push down on the handle and step inside. Closing it behind him and resecuring the lock, Seth scanned the space with his flashlight and let out a small whistle.
The area was indeed a private spa, decked out in fancy tiles and what looked like a large jacuzzi and inbuilt sauna.
“How the other half live, eh?” He hadn’t imagined places like that even existed, let alone that his own dear mum would be living in one. “Maybe if this Kyle becomes my stepdad, it won’t be all bad.”
Steering his flashlight around the immense space, he walked toward the door and slowly pulled it open. Stepping beyond the threshold of the spa, two things immediately captured Seth’s attention.
First was the extent of the place. That much should have been obvious, he supposed, especially given how huge the building had been from the outside, but being in the belly of the beast hammered the point home more thoroughly. The doors were thick and heavy, while the dark, empty hallways seemed immense and important, as though they were the arteries providing oxygen to wherever the heart of the building resided. Compared to the oppressive, confined spaces of his nineteenth-century jail cell, the place was extraordinary.
The other thing that struck him was the clarity of the silence. Rich, unhindered quiet filled his senses, its swathing blanket broken only by the call of the rhythmic tick-tock of what sounded like an old-fashioned grandfather clock. Moving quietly toward the noise, Seth had the sense he’d found the building’s beating heart.
It was only when he’d found the source, an impressive timepiece standing proud in what Seth could only assume was an incredibly large entrance hall, that another sound—a muffled cry from what could have been a woman—reverberated from upstairs.
Mum!
Seth’s head spun to face the direction of the sound, his heart galloping even harder as the minutes ticked by. He wanted to call out, or better, to go to where he thought he’d heard the noise, but he willed himself to be calm.
Maybe I imagined the cry?
The thought ricocheted as tension tightened in his stomach. He’d thought he’d heard a cry, but there had been nothing from upstairs since.
Seth tried to convince himself that the call had only echoed in his head as he gripped the edge of the furniture, but the adrenaline coursing through his system said otherwise. He must have heard some thing for his body to have reacted that way. Months of incarceration had taught him to trust his senses. He’d definitely heard someone.
Flicking into his messages, he typed his mother another quick missive. If she was awake and in trouble, perhaps she’d be able to clarify or reassure.
Mum, is everything okay?
His pulse raced as he concentrated on sending the question, watching as it vanished into the ether.
It would be okay. He had to believe that, but standing there, another, more abrupt concern had captured his focus— another noise from one of the corridors he’d just cleared—and that one appeared to be growing louder. Turning his head, Seth listened harder, able to make out the hum of what sounded like a contented man, who appeared to be getting closer.
For a split second, Seth was frozen with fear and unsure what to do. Switching off his flashlight, he dashed into the middle of the space and ducked down behind some sort of enormous table that seemed to have been placed there.
The inside of Kyle’s house had suddenly taken on a more ominous feel, the air seeming to disappear as the man’s hum grew louder. Trapped between his position as an invader in Brock Hall and concerns about what he’d thought he’d heard, it seemed to be getting harder to breathe. Hiding behind the cold base of the table, Seth waited.
In the lengthy seconds that passed, he crouched, considering his options. Should he rise, switch on a light, and greet the incoming male, who would surely turn out to be his mother’s beau, or was it best that he continued to hide and find a more opportune time to meet the man?
If he chose the former, he knew Kyle would be shocked and probably angry, but Seth could turn on the charm as well as the next guy. He was sure it wouldn’t take long to weave the old Kendal magic on Kyle and persuade him Seth was the loveable rogue with Amy’s best interests at heart. Choosing the latter, though, would buy him some time and allow him to learn more about Kyle and the enormous mansion he called home before he confronted him.
Weighing the choices in his head, Seth wanted to be bold and face the man head-on, but as time stretched out around him, his instinct was to lie low and play the longer game. By the time the man he assumed was Kyle had moved into the huge entrance hall and was only a matter of a few feet from where he hid, Seth had made up his mind.
He’d wait it out, see where the man went, and consider following. Kyle seemed completely oblivious to Seth’s presence so far, and until Seth could discern what he’d heard from one of the rooms upstairs, he preferred it that way.
Some of the anxiety cramping in his stomach seeped away with the decision, and Seth’s focus drilled into the silhouette of the man who seemed to be heading for the foot of the vast staircase.
It had to be Kyle.
Only a man who owned a house moved with such ease and precision around its interior in the near gloom, knowing where to avoid fixtures and precisely when the steps began. That thought cemented as the waft of savory food filled the air. Fried onion and cheese flavors danced past Seth’s nostrils and suggested Kyle had concocted some type of midnight feast.
Curious, but aside from the goading appetite the aroma provoked, there was nothing particularly untoward about eating late. It was only once Kyle had started his ascent, his feet finding the tenth step, that the grasping reassurances filling Seth’s head crashed to the ground like a thousand shards of glass.
A woman’s scream exploded into the darkness, permeating the space and eradicating any hope that he’d imagined the earlier cry. Finally away from prison, it was the type of strangled screech Seth had hoped he’d never hear again, but as it resonated through him, two thoughts crystallized.
The woman screaming was his mother—there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that—and whatever the hell was happening to her up there, she needed his help.