Loch Ness Distress: Blue Moon Investigations Sacramento book 10 by Alex Gates & Steve Higgs

Author:Alex Gates & Steve Higgs [Gates, Alex & Higgs, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

The Reading. Saturday, January 4th. 0937hrs.

Our ride share’s tires crunched along the winding gravel driveway leading to the grand estate perched above the dark waters of Loch Ness. Huxley Castle was not the towering, battlemented fortress of old, but a stone manor with pitched roofs, weathered turrets, and ivy spreading along its walls. Rolling gardens stretched toward a pond.

Freya rested her head on my shoulder as we rolled forward. The light pressure and gentle warmth of her against me were enough to shape me into a diamond.

We hadn’t slept last night after the incident, and she tried to steal a little rest before attending the will reading.

I made no such attempt. Though my eyes were heavy, my head thick with exhaustion, a sharp-edged energy held me upright, kept me focused.

Ten minutes after the man had escaped our room, the cops arrived. We told and retold our story to them a half-dozen times. When I had a moment, I stepped away and called Tempest Michaels—despite the absurd hour. He answered, though, and I updated him on the situation.

After a brief conversation, I convinced him that Freya and I would be okay, though I couldn’t persuade him not to come out to Scotland.

“Though I’m not likely to arrive until late Saturday night, or early Sunday.”

After ending the call, I considered calling Maya and updating her on what had happened—on thanking her for saving our lives. If she hadn’t called me, and if I hadn’t stepped out of the room, Freya and I would’ve both been asleep when the assassin attacked.

But I had pocketed my cell phone to return to Freya. To be with her.

The car came to a stop in the gravel driveway.

Freya, not truly asleep but merely resting her eyes, sat straight and pawed at her face.

We stepped from the car. The outside air was cool—the stint of sunshine found unproven against the Scottish winter. Rain and wind swirled around us, kicking up a thick scent of damp earth.

We strolled forward, braced against the weather, and walked up the front entry steps.

The heavy oak doors groaned as they opened.

In the entry hall, a chandelier of wrought iron hung from the rafters. Stone walls were adorned with faded tapestries and portraits whose eyes seemed to watch us.

A gaunt man with a sharp gaze stood at the door, holding a wiry smile. His beady eyes lingered on me, likely on my bruised face where the assassin’s foot had made a lingering impact. “Welcome to Huxley Castle. I’m Bernard Schaefer. Everyone calls me Bernie, though. Can I take your coats?”

Freya shyly shook her head.

I offered a flat, passionless smile. “Thank you, but I’ll keep mine.”

“As you will,” Bernie said, sliding by to close the door. “Do you have an invitation?”

Freya swallowed. “I... it was stolen. Last night.”

Bernie frowned. “Stolen?”

Her hands touched the bruises around her neck.

Bernie’s sunken face darkened. “I see, and I’m sorry. You must be Ms. Freya Wilkins?”

She remained stiff, her jaw tense. After a moment, she raised her purse, fumbled through the contents, and offered her passport to the man.

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