"Luke!" Chloe's voice called plaintively from the hallway. "We're going to be late, darling. My parents are waiting for us!"
"Is she staying here tonight?" Richard asked.
"Aunt Chloe's our guest… Yes, of course," Luke replied as Richard's godmother approached the entrance to the kitchen.
"Do you like her better than Blythe?" Richard demanded.
"Richard!" Luke said with exasperation. "You're being extremely tiresome. No pudding for you, my lad, until you remember your manners, isn't that right, Mrs. Q?"
"Will you be late, sir?" the housekeeper inquired, nodding her apparent willingness to carry out Luke's edict. "Shall I lock up before I go to bed?"
"We shall never get there at this rate," Chloe said in high dudgeon.
"No… just close up the kitchen," Luke directed wearily. "I'll do the rest."
Richard stared down at his plate. If his father and Aunt Chloe didn't care about how Blythe was feeling, h
e
certainly did!
He glanced outside, reassured to see there was at least an hour of daylight remaining. Fortunately the rain had stopped, although large, black clouds still hovered overhead. If he took his father's torch with him, Richard thought, there would still be time to explore the cave below Painter's Cottage. He prayed the tide would be low, as he'd been longing to see how far back it cut into the cliff. Then he'd visit Blythe and surprise her with some of Mrs. Q's lemon cake! If she offered him a piece to eat while he was paying a visit, that wouldn't be naughty, would it? he wondered.
"We'll just be off, then," Luke said, and when his son made no further response, he retreated down the hallway toward the front of the house where Chloe and her Jaguar waited under the
porte cochère.
While Mrs. Q was doing the washing up, Richard located his father's big black torch, which he then hid in the cloakroom.
"Come back straightaway, now, Dicken," the housekeeper warned. "Just feed the ponies those scraps and then I'll fix you some drinkin' chocolate. Don't linger long, m'lad," she cautioned, "for the rain'll be bedeviling us again before long."
"Yes, ma'am," Richard replied, heading for the cloakroom to fetch his coat and the torch.
He darted across the stable yard and set off down the leafy tunnel that led to the narrow beach and the pirates' cave Mr. Q swore had once been connected to Painter's Cottage.
He'd surprise Blythe for sure!
***
Luke and Chloe arrived back at Barton Hall a little before ten-thirty. Luke was relieved they'd made it an early night.
"I'll just close up everything down here," he announced, hoping that his houseguest would take her cue to retire to her room in the guest wing.
During an extremely tedious evening spent with Colonel and Mrs. Acton-Scott at their club outside St. Austell, Chloe had more than her share of the two bottles of Bordeaux the colonel had ordered with uncharacteristic expansiveness. Now his daughter seemed poised to do or say something that might prove highly embarrassing.
"Can I pour you a little nightcap, Luke, darling?" she asked, following him unsteadily into the library.
"I've had quite enough to drink tonight, thank you," he said pointedly. "Of course, if you'd like one…"
"Oh, all right, spoilsport," she pouted. "I'll be a good girl." She took a step closer and began to fiddle with his tie. "That is, I'll be good if you'll be good…"
A beam of light outside the library window caught his attention. Then he noticed there was a second flash.
"What the devil?" he exclaimed.
"What the devil what?" Chloe asked, sounding irritated.
He cracked open the window and felt a rush of chill, moist air.
"Hallo… hallo out there!"
"Oh, Mr. Teague… thank the Lord you've come back! We've been down to the barn just now. We can't find Dicken!"
"Mrs. Q? Quiller? Stay where you are. I'll be right out."
"What's happened?" Chloe asked, raising her hand to her temple as if she were dizzy.
"Are you all right?" Luke asked hurriedly. "Can you make it upstairs on your own? There's some sort of problem. I must go see what it is."
"I'll just go up to my room now," Chloe announced faintly.
"Are you sure I can't help you—?"
"No," Chloe said firmly, and made directly for the grand staircase. Surprised he watched her scurry up the steps and swiftly disappear into the shadows of the guest wing, as if she were on some urgent errand.
Luke nearly collided with the Quillers at the kitchen door.
"I've looked everywhere!" cried Mrs. Q. "He only just went out back to feed the ponies some carrots left from supper."
"But it's nearly quarter to eleven!" Luke noted sharply. "How long has he been gone?"
"Since sundown, Mr. Teague," Quiller said apologetically. "He promised the wife he'd come right back. We kept waitin' and waitin', thinkin' he'd be back any minute. Then we started to search, thinkin' maybe he be havin' a bit of fun off us."
"We called and called," Mrs. Q said, wringing her chapped hands. "We searched all over the house, in cupboards and closets and the like. It's not like the lad to play such tricks. We tried to think what restaurant you and Miss Chloe might be gone to. We made some calls, but—"
The poor woman seemed close to tears.
"Now, let's everybody stay calm," Luke said, forcing himself to inhale deeply. "You checked the secret passage to the kitchen from the sitting room, of course."
"Oh, yes sir, first thing," Quiller replied.
"Have you checked with Mrs. Stowe down at Painter's Cottage?"
"That was to be our next—"
"I'll take the car down there and have a look."
"Shall we call the constable?" Mrs. Q asked worriedly. "Oh, where could that little scamp have got to?"
"Quiller, do be so kind as to call Mr. Seaton and put him on alert," Luke said firmly. "Inform him that if Richard's not to be found at Painter's Cottage, I'll come directly to the Gorran Haven police station. Mrs. Q—perhaps you should search the rooms and the cupboards a second time, one by one. I'll ring you from the village within the hour."
"Here, sir, you'd better take my torch," Quiller said, handing it over. "I looked for your larger one, but it's gone missing."
"But I always keep it—oh, never mind. Thank you."
***
Painter's Cottage sat perched on the cliff in utter blackness. A crescent moon offered only faint illumination as ominous black clouds scudded across the night sky. Blythe's front door was locked, a fact Luke found keenly distressing. He wondered if she'd thrown the bolt as soon as she'd slammed it shut after their argument earlier.
A sudden crack of lightning, followed by a loud thunderclap, heralded the beginning of a downpour as Luke curled his fist and pounded on the oak planks. Eventually a light went on downstairs and Blythe peered through the window.
"Richard's disappeared!" he shouted.
She quickly padded to the door and opened it. "He's missing?" she asked, her voice full of concern as she pulled on the collar of her bathrobe to ward off the chill air and spitting rain that slanted through the door. The downpour had begun in earnest. "Come in! Come in!"
"I take it, then, you haven't seen him?"
"Not since… after we came back from St. Goran's earlier today."
"Oh, Christ!" Luke exploded, stalking into the cottage. "Now, why would he do something like this, the little bugger!"
"Maybe he wants to get your attention," Blythe said quietly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Another crack of lightning lit up the cottage's dim interior.
"I don't think he wants to go back to that school," Blythe said, staring at the natural fireworks on display outside the tall artist's window.
"It's by far the best place for him," Luke declared. He paused, waiting for the accompanying thunder to subside, and then added, "It'll give the boy a bit of backbone. And from what I witnessed today, he needs it."
"Don't be idiotic," Blythe said wearily, and folded her arms across her chest with a look of frustration.
"And I suppose you understand my son's needs better than I do?"
"I can't imagine how you think you understand anything at all about Dicken," Blythe retorted. "After all, you've hardly spent an entire hour alone with the boy since he returned from Shelby Hall!"
"I've been damned busy this summer, as you well know!" Luke said defensively. "He seemed perfectly happy to me."
"He cried his heart out at his mother's grave today, for God's sake, Luke, and you just stalked off to the car. I wouldn't call that the picture of a happy child! And now you're banishing him to that prison you call a school for another year. No wonder he ran off!"
Luke began to pace in front of the fireplace. "Excuse me, Blythe, but I am well aware that my son has suffered since his mother's death. You do not have to lecture me in that department, thank you!"
"Well, then, perhaps you should lecture your dear friend Chloe!" Blythe rejoined, stung. "You two have shamelessly left Dicken to grieve alone for two goddamned years! Lord knows if you've permitted yourself to shed a tear. Stiff upper lip at all costs, I suppose!"
"Taking pop-psychology lessons from my dear cousin Valerie?" he replied cuttingly. "Or has she got you gazing into her crystal ball to ferret out all my flaws?"
"Don't be a jackass!" Blythe yelled. "Just tell me what I can do to help find your son!"
CHAPTER 15
L
uke and Blythe made their rain-drenched trip into Gorran Haven in silence, except for the sound of the windshield wipers clicking back and forth like a metronome. As the Land Rover came to a halt in front of the police station, Blythe bolted and slammed the door. However, she waited under the eaves at the entrance to the stone building to allow Luke to enter first.
"Ah… Mr. Teague…" said a wiry man of about fifty sitting behind a desk. "Your housekeeper rang from Barton Hall to say that so far they've had no luck locating the boy."
"Constable Seaton, this is Mrs. Stowe, who's been leasing Painter's Cottage. I went round on my way here to see if perhaps Richard had gone there."
"And he hadn't?" the constable inquired of Blythe.
"No," she said quietly. "As I told his father, I last saw him today about lunchtime outside Barton Hall."
The door opened and several people entered quietly. All of them wore bright-orange anoraks with "West Country Search and Rescue" emblazoned on the back.
"Hello, Henry… Jeremy… Jack. Thanks for coming," the constable greeted the volunteers quickly. "I thought it wise to alert our local team to scour the area adjacent to Barton Hall," he added. "Now, as I understand it from the Quillers, you'd gone out to dinner, Mr. Teague, leaving your son with the housekeeper. Is that correct?" Seaton inquired.
"Yes."
"And can you think of any reason the lad might have gone off? Did he seem upset about anything? Had you had words before you left?"
Luke said, a muscle tightening in his jaw. He clearly was discomforted speaking of his relationship with his son in front of strangers.
"He seemed perfectly normal." Then he paused and added reluctantly, "He'd been a bit cheeky to his godmother, who is staying down from London for a few days… and I told him he couldn't have pudding."
"Anything else?" Seaton asked pleasantly.
"Well, he's due to return to school soon. Perhaps…" Luke declined to finish his sentence.
"The lad is… how old again?"
"Ten."
"Ten," Seaton repeated. "First year at the school?"
"Beginning his third," Luke answered.
"I see. And, therefore, he's been attending there since… let's see… around the age of seven or eight, is that right?"
"Since my wife died. Two years ago."
"Of course. Tragic, really," Constable Seaton reassured him kindly.
The door to the office opened again, and several other volunteers walked in, including Valerie Kent, fitted out in an oversize orange anorak.
"Oh, Luke… you poor dear!" Valerie declared in a rush. Then she saw Blythe. "It's good of you to join the search. I'm sure he won't have come to harm. He's such a keen little lad."
"Well, everyone," the constable addressed the group, "I think perhaps it's best to start in the area between Barton Hall and Painter's Cottage. Henry," he said to his colleague seated behind a desk, "do check to see if the lifeboat brigade has launched yet. They'll be patrolling along the coast and checking the beaches. Be sure they give a thorough survey of Hemmick and the sand below the stone cottage." To the others he said, "Let's start out in our usual teams. Valerie, why don't you ride with Mr. Teague and Mrs. Stowe and follow along with us? Everyone got their mobile phones? If you hit those dead zones, do use the nearest call box and ring here every half hour or so to report your positions. Henry will coordinate from this end. Let's be off."
Wordlessly Blythe and Luke climbed back into the Land Rover, joined by Valerie Kent in the backseat. The older woman leaned forward and rested a hand on Luke's shoulder as the heavy downpour continued to pelt the metal roof over their heads.