The Runaway by Lisa Childs

Author:Lisa Childs [Childs, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2020-07-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“I hear them at night. . . .”

“Who?” Rosemary asked as she glanced around the sunshine-filled conservatory. “Who do you hear?” Was this the lead she’d been looking for? The clue to where Genevieve could be, to what had really happened to her?

The day before, when she’d eavesdropped on the conversation between the hall director and the fitness expert, she’d been left with more questions than answers. They were brothers?

Clearly, they didn’t like or trust each other. Why not?

What were they both hiding?

Genevieve?

“The girls . . .” Morgana Drake leaned across the small table between her and Rosemary and pitched her voice to a soft whisper as if she didn’t want them to hear her now. Morgana hadn’t been a girl for quite a while. She was probably older than the Pierce sisters though it was hard to tell with her hair dyed a bright red and all the makeup she wore. She appeared quite the eccentric. “I hear the girls crying. . . .”

“What girls?” Rosemary asked. Had there been more than one? More than Genevieve upset with having to stay here? After touring the facilities and spending some time there, Rosemary couldn’t help but wonder why. The hall was luxurious with a warm indoor pool, sauna and hot tubs along with a well-equipped gym, movie rooms, and dining room. Rosemary loved this room, the English-style conservatory that seemed to fill with sunshine despite the clouds that hung over the island.

“The girls, you know,” Morgana continued in her whisper that vibrated with excitement. “The crazy girls that were imprisoned here at the manor.”

“Committed,” Rosemary corrected her. “And they weren’t crazy.” She hated that word, hated how freely it was tossed around as a derogatory label. “But that all happened in the past. Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s why I came to this place, to talk to the restless spirits.”

“Oh . . .” The word slipped through Rosemary’s lips but hopefully her disappointment hadn’t slipped out with it. But maybe she should have been relieved that the woman hadn’t heard Genevieve crying.

“I’m a medium,” Morgana explained. “I talk to the dead.”

“Why did you ask to speak to me then?” Until Rosemary had been hired, Morgana hadn’t asked for any counseling services since her arrival—months ago—at the hall. Neither of the psychiatrists had a file on her, and on her application to stay, she had stated her reason as relaxation.

“I thought maybe you could help them,” Morgana said, her dark eyes bright with excitement.

“Me?” Rosemary asked. “Why didn’t you ask Dr. Chase or Dr. Cooke?”

The woman shivered despite the warmth of the sun shining through all the conservatory glass. “Oh, no, neither of them could help. They’re not to be trusted.” She leaned closer and placed her hand, with its bulging veins and dark spots, over Rosemary’s. “At all . . .”

“Why not?” Rosemary asked, and she pitched her voice to a whisper, too. Maybe the woman actually knew something—something that Rosemary needed to be aware of.

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