House of Dreams (34 page)

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Authors: Brenda Joyce

BOOK: House of Dreams
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And Eduardo was left alone.
 
 
Cass and Antonio turned the corner of the hall, guided by Antonio's flashlight, when they saw Gregory walking back toward the library. Instantly Cass's radar went up. Why had he left the children alone—even for a minute? “Gregory!” she called.
He paused before entering the library, and as Cass hurried to him, she realized that something was terribly wrong. And the moment she halted beside him, she saw that her worst fears might be on the verge of being realized—both children were gone. Celia was gone. The library was starkly empty.
“You left them!” she cried. “Oh, God, they're gone!”
Antonio came up behind them. “Don't panic. They're undoubtedly in the kitchen, looking for a snack.”
“I only left them for a moment,” Gregory said.
Cass rushed back down the corridor, the two men on her heels. She flung open the door to the kitchen, but it was cast in blackness and no one was there. She thought—
I'll kill him if anything happens to the children.
And she meant it.
Cass ran back out, into the great hall.
The front door was wide open.
Cass stumbled, clutching Antonio for support. “You locked that.”
“I did. They must have opened it.” He walked to the door, swinging his flashlight in a wide-ranging arc. The landscape outside was a mass of shadowy shapes and forms.
“Why would they go outside in the middle of the night?” Cass cried. But she knew. Isabel had something to do with this. Isabel had something to do with every odd occurrence that had transpired since they had all arrived at Casa de Sueños. Because Isabel had an agenda. “Oh, God.” She barreled past the men.
“Eduardo!” Antonio cried through cupped hands.
Cass began calling for Alyssa. Gregory joined them, saying, “They can't have gone far. We should split up.”
Cass gave him a furious look—this was all his fault.
Antonio touched her. “Cassandra,” he said firmly, calmly.
She shook him off. “No! If anything happens, Gregory is to blame.”
“They're fine. Nothing will happen.” But his eyes flickered with unease.
“I am so sorry,” Gregory said, anguish written all over his face. “I
never thought they would leave the library. I was only gone for a few minutes—and Celia was with them.”
“Celia?” Cass was scathing. “The woman is in shock.”
“It's not your fault,” Antonio said flatly to his brother. He gave Cass a cold look. “We should split up. I agree.”
Cass's temples throbbed with excruciating force. Split up. Divide and conquer. She hated the turn of her own thoughts. “I don't like the idea,” she whispered. “We seem to be forgetting something. There's a dead man at the ruins. There's a murderer running around here, maybe even amongst us. And—there's Isabel.”
The two men looked at her. Even in the darkness, Gregory had paled. “There is no ghost of that ancestor of ours about,” he said, but his tone was hardly firm.
“Oh, no? I just saw her.” Cass almost felt triumphant. And a part of herself felt disturbed, and was wondering why she had cast all caution to the winds, why she was so unkind, when unkindness was as foreign to her nature as cruelty or malice. “Whoever murdered him was inside your house, Antonio,” she said, unable to stop herself. Her gaze went right to Gregory.
Gregory's face tightened. “I do not like what you're suggesting. Obviously my brother and I are above reproach—and so is Alfonso.”
Cass straightened. “Oh, so I'm to blame? Or maybe we should blame a sixty-five-year-old woman—Celia?”
“Did I say that?” he shot back.
Cass stared at him, wondering if he was a deranged murderer. Ever since she had met him, he had been behaving oddly, she decided. Secretively. He was hiding something. “I doubt the electrician stabbed himself—in the chest.”
“In the heart,” Antonio muttered.
Cass jerked.
“He was stabbed directly in the heart.”
“The children,” Cass said. “We have to find them.” Her tone pitched wildly upward. And then she saw the look the two men were exchanging—and it was a look of understanding which excluded her. “What is it?” she demanded. “What do the two of you know that you are not saying?”
“We don't know anything,” Antonio said, walking away and shouting for Eduardo again.
Cass thought she heard something, and she gripped his arm from behind. “Shh. Listen!”
The cry, if it was a cry, was faint.
But Antonio took off like a rocket, around the left side of the house. “Eduardo! Where are you!”
Cass and Gregory were racing after him, and they heard the small, feeble, voice. “Papá! Papá!”
Antonio suddenly bent. Eduardo was prone on the ground, his crutches scattered some distance from him, and his father pulled him hard into his arms.
Cass gripped the boy's shoulder from behind. “Is he all right? Where is Alyssa?”
“Are you all right?” Antonio cried, relief in his tone.
“I fell. She was running so fast—” His voice broke.
“Where is Alyssa?“Cass shouted, fear flooding her.
“I don't know. She ran away, that way, I think,” Eduardo said, sounding close to tears.
Cass felt the stabbing of sheer dread. “No.”
Antonio stroked his brow, and Cass realized that both father and son were trembling. “Talk to me, little one. Tell me what happened.”
Eduardo nodded. “We were reading in the library and then we heard noises. And then we looked at the window, and this woman was standing there. Alyssa thought it was her mother.”
Eduardo looked at Cass. “She had pale hair. And Alyssa ran out of the room. Celia ran after her. I tried to follow them, but I could not keep up.” Tears filled his eyes. “When I got to the hall, the front door was open, so I went out, but I could not find either of them.” His voice rose shrilly.
Antonio stroked his hair, then held him close. “You did the best that you could.” Over Eduardo's shoulder, he met Cass's gaze.
Cass was shaking uncontrollably. Had Tracey returned? Had Alyssa found her mother? Or was this some horrible prank? And if it was a prank, who had committed it? The murderer?
Antonio stood, helping Eduardo to his feet. Gregory had retrieved the crutches and he handed them to the boy. Antonio looked at Cass. “Take him into the house. Wait in the library. Gregory and I will search. Do not worry. She can't have gone far. We will find her.”
Cass felt a tear begin to slide down her cheek. “I want to come, too.”
He leaned toward her and kissed her mouth, briefly. “Please stay with my son. He is upset. Just make sure to lock the front door when you go back inside.”
Cass wanted to refuse. She looked at Eduardo's pale face, his eyes
brimming with tears, and suddenly, savagely, she cursed her sister, wishing she were dead.
 
 
Cass sat with Eduardo, her arm around him, staring blindly at the fire, praying for Alyssa's safe return. Tears kept coming unbidden to her eyes; she was sick with fear and dread. And she was using all of her willpower to refrain from interrogating Eduardo, who remained terribly upset.
Catherine was dead, Tracey was missing, and now Alyssa was gone, too? Cass felt as if she were on the verge of complete madness.
She closed her eyes to fight tears of real panic and fear. Isabel was behind everything. She had no doubt.
It was hard to think clearly now, but Cass knew she had to try. What if she were Isabel? What if she had been this young woman orphaned at eight, and burned at the stake twelve years later? After being forced into a marriage that had to have been loveless, with a foreigner, while forsaking any chance of true love?
I would not be sad,
Cass thought.
I would be pissed off and angry.
Cass froze. Anger, fury, rage, wrath …
They betrayed me.
Isabel wanted revenge. There was no other conclusion. But why prey upon her family as well as the de la Barcas?
They betrayed me.
“This is all my fault.”
Eduardo's whisper interrupted Cass's whirling thoughts. “Of course it's not,” she said quickly, but she could not smile. “Your father will find Alyssa in no time at all.”
Cass glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes had gone by. She could not do this. She could not sit there like a lump of lard while the most precious thing in the entire world to her was in jeopardy. But in jeopardy how?
Cass had to grapple with the very worst notion, a notion she did not want to face. If Isabel could send a message to her on her laptop, was she capable of other physical acts?
Cass closed her eyes, sick to the very pit of her stomach. Surely she was not capable of sticking a knife into a man's chest.
Antonio's grandfather had also been stabbed …
“Cass,” Eduardo whispered, just as the sound of footsteps reached them.
She jumped up as Antonio and Gregory appeared, entering the room—Alyssa in Antonio's arms, holding on to his neck like a little monkey. “Alyssa!” Relief briefly immobilized her, and the tears began to fall in earnest. “Thank God,” she choked.
Antonio smiled at her as he let Alyssa down to her feet. “She was scared and hiding in the bushes,” he said lightly, as if nothing had happened at all.
Cass met his gaze, saw a warning message there, and understood he did not want to further frighten the children—there was something he wanted to tell her. She embraced her niece, hard. Alyssa clung to Cass's neck. Her little body was warm and real; Cass rocked her.
Then, “Don't you ever run off like that again, do you hear me?” Cass cried. “Or you will be grounded for the rest of your life!”
Alyssa nodded, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “I'm so sorry, Aunt Cass. I don't know what happened. But I thought I saw my mother and I had to go find her.” Tears welled.
Cass hugged her again. “That's okay, sweetie.” Had Alyssa seen Tracey? She did not dare ask now. “I think you and Eduardo should get into those blankets for a good night's rest.” Now she was inspecting Alyssa from head to toe. She had a few scratches on her arms and one on her cheek, from a bush, Cass thought, and her hair was a wild mess, but other than that, she seemed fine. But what had actually happened?
And where was Celia?
Slowly Cass looked up—into Antonio's grim countenance.
“Will you stay here? All night?” Alyssa asked anxiously.
“Promise,” Cass said, stroking her hair. She managed a smile and prayed it was cheerful and reassuring. “C'mon, guys. Into those blankets, let's go. Tomorrow's another day.” She just prayed they would all get through this night without any further incident. But she did not think it likely.
The children were tucked in, and then an eternity passed as Cass waited for them to fall asleep so she could talk seriously with Antonio and his brother. When they both appeared to be out like lights, Cass hurried over to the two men, who were seated at Antonio's desk with scotch whiskeys. “What happened?” she whispered.
Antonio met her gaze. “She implied that there was a woman outside, not her mother, a woman who frightened her terribly and caused her to hide. I convinced her it was her imagination and that there is nothing to fear.”
“Isabel,” Cass breathed.
“That woman is not here,” Gregory cut in tersely. “Jesu! I am tired of hearing about her.”
“Oh, she is here,” Cass said flatly. “Antonio doesn't believe me, either, but I saw her. She is haunting this house, but it's worse than that.” Keeping her voice low, Cass said, “She wants vengeance on this family.”
Gregory stood up, drink in hand, swilling half of it. Cass realized he was as white as a sheet—a very unnatural pallor for a man with a golden complexion and a Costa del Sol tan. “What is it?” she asked uneasily.
He cursed. “I vote that tomorrow we pack up everything and everybody and leave.”
“And what about Celia?” Antonio asked quietly.
Gregory cursed again.
Automatically Cass reached for and found Antonio's hand. He was flesh and blood, strong, a man, and she felt instantly comforted. Their gazes locked. “Please, please, do not tell me that something has happened to Celia.”
“We cannot find her. Not at night, in the dark, anyway.” He was more than grim. “I'm going to wait until the morning to drive into Pedraza and call the police. I don't want to leave you alone here with the children tonight.”

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