Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
"There were shots fired at the courthouse today."
I gripped the counter. "Mr. Worthington was there. Was he injured?"
"We don't think so."
I dropped my formal, measured tone and tightened my hand on the receiver as I asked, "What do you mean you don't think so? How can you not know for certain?"
Stewart guffawed. "Because Mr. Worthington wasn't the only one they were shooting at. He drove off in his car before I got there."
I pressed a hand to the center of my chest.
Mr. Worthington shot at by the police like a common criminal?
My heart beat rapidly and there was a slight numbness in my arm. I was certain I was having a heart attack.
His father and mother would roll in their graves.
Stewart continued. "So listen, we need to—"
Before he could even finish his request, I squared my shoulders and inhaled deeply before voicing my next statement in an even tone so not a single word was missed. "Stewart, if you think, for one moment, I will allow you or any of those thugs you employ to step one foot on this estate, you are very much mistaken."
I may not have a clue what was going on, but I still knew my duty. It was to protect the Worthingtons at any cost. If that meant keeping law enforcement at bay, then that was precisely what I would do.
Stewart made some ill-mannered sound in the back of his throat. "Relax, El. I'm not storming the gates. I have it all under wraps. I need to talk to Mr. Worthington, but that leads me to the second issue. I found Mr. Worthington's Mercedes crashed into a tree on the main road to the estate when I was on my way out there."
My composure fractured. "Goddammit, Stewart. Why didn't you state that at the beginning instead of wasting my time with your inane chatter? I need to get a search party together to find Mr. Worthington."
"Relax, I've already started a search."
The Worthingtons' care was my responsibility, not the sheriff's. I had well-paid loyal staff at my disposal, not county badge-carriers with more ammunition than sense. "I must hang up the line now."
Stewart yelled into the phone as I pulled it away from my ear. "Tell Mr. Worthington I will be there in thirty minutes."
I immediately summoned Mrs. Bigsby, Stanley our head groundskeeper, and Marcus our head mechanic. I paced in the kitchen until the household was assembled before me.
Puffing out my chest, I tugged on my waistcoat before speaking.
"Staff, we have a situation. Mr. Worthington's Mercedes has been found crashed near Ravenscroft Estate. He may be injured, wandering in the woods, disoriented. There is also a chance he may be suffering from a gunshot wound."
Mrs. Bigsby gasped.
"A gunshot wound," she repeated in a shocked whisper as she pressed her pudgy fingers to her lips.
I sniffed before lifting my lip in a sneer. "Please, Mrs. Bigsby, this is no time for hysterics."
The elderly lady lowered her head. "Sorry, Mr. Tompkins."
She lifted her gaze just enough to meet mine. Mrs. Bigsby had served this house longer than I had. Very little escaped her notice, and even less surprised her.
"If I may, Mr. Thompkins," she said, stepping closer to me, her voice dropping so the others wouldn't overhear. "This business at the courthouse. It wouldn't have anything to do with that girl, would it?"
I held her stare. "That is not our concern at present, Mrs. Bigsby."
"No," she agreed, folding her hands over her apron. "I suppose it isn't." She had her own opinions on the matter, as did I. However, as an equally loyal servant, she would keep them to herself...as would I.
Nodding curtly, I turned to Stanley. "Release the dogs to see if they can pick up a scent. If we are lucky, they will lead us to Mr. Worthington. Marcus, please go collect Mr. Worthington's car. We have no need for anyone from town viewing the accident scene, which could lead to idle speculation and gossip. I want the scene cleared before the first busybody arrives with a camera phone."
"Yes, Mr. Tompkins," they both said in unison.
A clap of thunder drew our attention to the kitchen's massive arched window. Swiveling my head back to the staff, I barked, "You have your instructions. Go, now. Work quickly. We haven't much time."
They dispersed.
All except Mrs. Bigsby, who lingered by the doorway, one hand on the frame.
"Out with it," I said without turning.
"That boy has been nothing but trouble since the day he drew breath. I've said it before and I will say it again, they may have been twins but they were never equal. He may be dead but with all the trouble Jameson is causing from the grave it is clear to me the Lord wasn't the one who took him from this earth but the Devil himself," she murmured as she crossed herself.