The Presence

Down in Stirling, Glasgow and, now, Edinburgh, they believed that the girls were seized off the streets of the main cities, then killed in other locations and finally—with the first two, at least—left in the forest of Tillingham because it was so lush and dense that discovery could take years.

Bruce’s question was this: Were there others, sad lives lost and unreported, decaying in the woods, their disappearance unnoted? And now another.

Stirling, Glasgow and Edinburgh. The killer was striking all over, yet in Scotland, the distances were certainly not major. The first three abductions had taken place in large cities. But if he had found it easy enough to seize women off busy streets, would he grow bolder and seek out quieter locations?

He drummed his fingers on the desk. Thus far, the local populace had not felt the first whiff of panic. But thus far, the girls reported as “missing” had not been what the locals would consider “good” girls. Not that the people here were cold or uncaring; it was quite the opposite. But since the victims had been known to work the streets and to have fallen into the world of drugs, the average man and woman here did not worry.

It was sad, indeed, tragic. Hearts bled. But women who fell into the ways of sin and addiction left themselves open to such tragedy.

But MacNiall didn’t feel that way. There was a killer on the loose. And no matter what the state of his victim’s lives, he had to be stopped.

And he had the power to stop him? MacNiall mocked himself.

He had come home—as far as Edinburgh, at least—when Robert called and told him that there had been no leads on the case and he was just about at wits’ end. Then, just two days after arriving in Edinburgh, Robert had told him of a new missing persons report.

The strange thing was, he’d felt an urge to return even before he’d gotten the phone call. Actually, he’d wanted to ignore the haunting sense that he’d needed to be here. But after speaking to Robert, he’d taken the first flight out of New York.

So here he was. Yet, really, why? There were fine men on the case, and he wasn’t an official anymore.

But they needed … something. Hell, they needed to realize what they were up against.

Bruce was afraid that all available manpower would not be put on the case until the killer upped his anger or his psychosis, or until the “wrong” victim was killed.

By then, God alone knew what the body count could be.

He pressed his fingers against his temples, remembering the other reason he was actually anxious to have the group gone—his dream. How could he explain having such a strange dream?

Then again, maybe it wasn’t so strange. After all, he had found the first body. That vision would never leave his mind.

And now maybe it was natural to meet a woman, find her irritating beyond measure and then sexy as all hell…. And then fear for her.

Annoyed with himself, he snapped the drawer shut and rose to join his uninvited guests in the kitchen.

The setting was a wonder to behold. Toni was certain that Bruce MacNiall thought as much, because he paused in the doorway. And for once, he certainly wasn’t angry. He gave that slight arch to his brow and curl to his lip that demonstrated amusement, then he wandered in and took the seat left for him at the head of the table.

Everyone was there, seated and looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I’d kept the rest of you waiting,” he said pleasantly, taking the napkin that had been arranged into an elegant bird shape from his plate.

“Almost hate to use this,” Bruce said, looking around the table.

“Please, they’re nothing to fold,” Kevin said. “I’ve worked in a number of restaurants. That’s the fate of most theater majors. Actually, though, I’m a set designer.”

“So Ryan told me,” Bruce said.

“We each have special and unique talents,” Gina said.

“I’ve heard a few,” Bruce said.

“That’s right, you were out riding with our Ryan,” Thayer said, clapping his hand on Ryan’s back. “He’s our master of horse and arms! There’s not an animal out there our boy can’t ride.”

“Yes, Ryan is quite skilled,” Bruce agreed.

David lifted a hand. “Costumes,” he said.

“Yes, and he juggles,” Kevin said. “He’s really a fantastic actor, as well, but we are the technical whizzes.”

“And they’re both so humble and modest,” Toni said sweetly.

“Sorry, modesty never gets us the job,” Kevin reminded her.

“Touché,” she agreed.

“And you? What were you doing in Glasgow?” Bruce asked Thayer.

“Piano bar,” Thayer said ruefully.

“I’m marketing and promotions, and whatever else is needed,” Gina said. “The jill-of-all-theatrical-trades, but my major was actually on the business side.”

“Ah.” Bruce stared at Toni then, waiting.

“Writer,” Toni said, certain that he thought her one hell of a storyteller all right.

“Now you see,” Kevin said. “Her imagination is legendary.”

“So it seems,” Bruce mused, staring at her.

“Our Toni is far too modest. She wrote a one-woman show on Varina Davis—she was the one and only first lady of the Confederacy—and spent six months performing it for sold-out audiences in Washington, D.C.,

and then Richmond. She writes, acts, directs, sews and is a regular vixen with a paintbrush. Naturally, we do whatever is needed.”

“Like scrubbing floors,” David said.

“And cleaning latrines,” Thayer added.

“Sewing, wiring, flats, paints … we’ve done it all,” Toni told him.

“And what part of the States are you from?” MacNiall asked them, looking around at the group again.

“I’m from Iowa, originally,” Gina said. “Toni’s from the D.C. area, David’s a native New Yorker, Ryan is from Kentucky and Kevin’s from Philadelphia.”

“We went to college together,” Toni murmured.

“NYU,” David offered.

“Most of us went to college together. Toni, Ryan, David and I went to college together,” Gina corrected softly. “Then, when Ryan got his job with the Magician’s Castle, I moved to Baltimore. Toni moved nearer to D.C., but we stayed close. When she wanted to mount her Queen Varina show, I spent time down there to help her, David did her costume and set. We met Kevin about that time, almost two years ago, and then we finally met Thayer and dragged him in on the scheme the last time we were in Scotland.”

“And that was …?”

“Just about six months ago, right?” Ryan said, looking for agreement from the others. “We were at a castle owned by the Menzies family. Clan members had bought it, done some renovations and then opened it for tours.”

“Ah,” MacNiall murmured, still watching them. Toni wondered what he was thinking. He looked at Thayer. “You were in Glasgow and you just got roped in?”

“I had tried to meet Thayer when we were here just before that. We’ve vacationed in Scotland at least four times since college,” Toni informed him. “But every time I was in the country, Thayer had a job somewhere else. When we finally met …”

“It was as if you’d known one another all your lives?” Bruce MacNiall suggested dryly.

“Actually, yes,” Thayer said.

“I see.”

“I wasn’t roped into anything,” Thayer said, offering Toni a small smile. “Their idea was a good one.”

“Aye, it might have been,” Bruce MacNiall conceded, surprising Toni. “What I saw was wonderfully dramatic.”

“You know, we’ve got a problem tonight,” Ryan said.

Toni realized that he was looking at her. “Yes?”

“I really had trouble going from costume to costume, and then doing the whole horse in the great hall thing last night. Of course, it worked, because—” he stared at Bruce and smiled weakly “—because Bruce showed up, but otherwise you’ll have to stall more.”

“She can’t stall. The timing was great. Suspenseful. We’ll lose them if she has to pad what is a perfect speech!” Gina protested.

“You want Bruce MacNiall to ride into the great hall as he did last night?” Bruce asked. “I can do that for you again. Is that it?”

They were staring at him incredulously.

“You would do that?” Gina said.

“Hey, you’re here, and I already think I’m insane myself. Why the hell not?” he returned.

“There’s a little more to it, as written,” Gina said.

“Oh?” Bruce queried.

David grinned. “You’re supposed to dismount, walk up the stairs and strangle Toni.”

“Ah.” Bruce stared at Toni again, a smile teasing at his lips. “I think I can handle that.”

“You only pretend to strangle her, you know,” Thayer interjected.

“And that might be a lot harder!” Kevin said, winking at Toni.

She wasn’t particularly amused. “I don’t really see how we can ask Laird MacNiall to join in with us. He’s already doing us such a tremendous favor,” she said very sweetly.

“I don’t mind at all,” Bruce MacNiall said, rising. “This was a feast, ladies and gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me, though, I’d like to get into the village before your evening events.”

They watched as he left.

“Well, there you go. The chap isn’t really half bad after all,” Thayer said. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him, though, when he’s up there strangling Toni, eh?”

To Toni, his accent seemed to accentuate a real danger for some reason. But the others were laughing, so it was probably just in her mind.

“Ryan, you’ve just been shoved out of your big moment,” David said.

“Hey, that’s okay. It’s worth it just to watch that horse of his come racing in and stop on a dime,” Ryan said. He grinned, glancing across the table. “I will miss getting to strangle Toni, though.”

“Ha, ha,” she said and rose, stretching. “Well, let’s see … under the artistic direction of Mr. David Fulton and Mr. Kevin Hart, I did the washing, chopping and table adornment. Ryan, you can rue your lost opportunity to strangle me while you wash the dishes with your lovely wife and Thayer.”

“Me? But I got to shovel out major horse shite already today!”

“Hey, horses are your thing, and you’re the expert. As for KP, we’re all in on it. So! Ta-ta, cheerio and all that! I’m off!” And with a smile, she made her exit.

Bruce entered Jonathan Tavish’s office after a brief tap against the doorframe. Jonathan looked up and arched a brow. “Bruce, I thought you’d be guarding the family jewels, what with that houseful in the old estate.”

“Hardly an estate, and totally a crumbling castle,” Bruce said, taking a seat. “Actually, the more I walk around the place, the more amazed I am. They’ve taken care of a ton of minor things that I’ve put off for years.”

“It’s tough when you’re keeping up with too much,” Jonathan agreed. He grinned. “Now, if you were just among the local peasant law-keepers, you’d be here year-round, pluggin’ up holes at any given time. So … it seems you’re not quite as angry as you were when you first learned about your guests?”

Bruce angled his head slightly as he surveyed his friend. They were close in age, had known each other since childhood. They shared a passion for this little neck of the world, though they didn’t always agree about how it should be run. Bruce was the local gentry, as it were, and Jonathan was the local law. But because Jonathan was local, and had always been local, he seemed to maintain a chip on his shoulder where Bruce was concerned.

One day, maybe, Jonathan would run for the position of provost. As such, he could implement more of his own ideas. Thus far, though, he seemed to like being constable.

“I’ve cooled down some, yes,” Bruce said. “Since no one threw them out in my absence, I thought another few days couldn’t hurt too much.”

“Ah,” Jonathan teased. “It was the blonde, eh? What a beauty—and what absolute hell on wheels!”

“She does have a way about her,” Bruce agreed. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve heard about this happening.”

“Your castle being taken over?” Jonathan said, puzzled.

Bruce shook his head. “This sort of thing in general. People going through what they think are private enterprises or legitimate rental agencies and winding up in a similar circumstance. I really want to find out what happened in this situation.”

“Like you said, it happens too often.”

“Yes, but this time it happened to be my castle that was taken over.”

“Come Monday, you can let those folks see all your records. They can bring their documents down, and we’ll get someone on it right away. Unfortunately, sometimes—especially in this age of the Internet—people can clean up their trails.” He lifted his hands. “I might have gotten started on it already, but they didn’t want to hand over the documents.”

“It’s all they’ve got to prove anything.”

“Great. They don’t trust the law.”

“Well,” Bruce said, offering a certain sympathy. “They don’t trust me, either.”

“Ah, there we are! In the same boat, as they say.”

“Right. But actually, that’s not why I’m here,” Bruce said.

“Oh?”

Bruce tossed the newspaper on Jonathan’s desk. “Oh, that.” “Aye, oh, that!”

Jonathan shook his head. “Bruce, they’re not local girls disappearing.”

“But in the last year, two bodies have been found in the forest.”

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s a big forest,” Jonathan re minded him.

“Have you had men out searching?” Bruce demanded.

“This girl just disappeared,” Jonathan reminded him. “But yes, I’ve had men out searching.”

“Right. The last two girls who disappeared wound up in our forest. We should be looking for this latest lass. I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that’s where she’s going to be.”

“Careful with that kind of prophecy, Bruce,” Jonathan warned, sitting back. “People will begin to think you know more about these disappearances and murders than you should. They do keep occurring when you’re actually in residence.” He raised a hand instantly. “And that doesn’t mean a damned thing. I’m your friend and I know you. I’m just telling you what someone else might think.”

“Bloody hell!” Bruce cursed, his tone hard. Jonathan’s

suggestion was an outrage, and he was both startled and angry.

“Sorry, Bruce, I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that you’re getting obsessive. I understand, of course. But you’re not what you were, Bruce. Time has gone on. Just because you struck it lucky once in Edinburgh doesn’t make you an expert.”

Bruce prayed for patience. “I’m not claiming to be an expert. But murdered women being discovered in Tillingham Forest does bother, seriously. And it should bother the hell out of you.”

“I know my business, Bruce.”

“I’m not suggesting that you don’t.”

“How can I stop a madman from kidnapping women in other cities? If you haven’t noticed, we’ve miles of dark roads around here, not to mention that whole companies of fightin’ men used to use that forest as a refuge! And again, this girl has just been reported as missing. She’s an Irish lass, might have just taken the ferry home.”

Bruce rose. “If she isn’t found in a few days’ time, I’ll arrange for a party myself to search the forest.”

“Bruce, mind that MacNiall temper of yours, please, for the love of God!” Jonathan said. “I told you, we’ve taken a look in the forest. We’ll go back and search with greater effort if she isn’t found in the next few days.”

“Good.” Bruce rose and started for the door.

“Hey!” Jonathan called after him.

“Aye?” Bruce said, pausing.

“Did you close down your haunted castle tour for this evening?” Jonathan asked.

“Actually, no. I’m joining it,” Bruce said.

“You’re joining it?” Jonathan said, astonished. “You’ve never acted in your life!”

“Well, that’s not really true, is it? We all act every day of our lives, don’t we?” Bruce asked him lightly.

“Ach! Go figure!” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “It’s the blonde.”

“It’s the fact that they are in a rather sorry predicament,” Bruce said. “And they did do a damn good job repairing a few of the walls. See you on Monday.”

He exited the office, leaving the newspaper on Jonathan’s desk. He knew what the front page carried—a picture.

She was young, with wide eyes and long, soft brown hair. She had originally hailed from Belfast, Northern Ireland. Apparently, she’d intended to head for London. But she’d never made it that far, discovering drugs and prostitution somewhere along the way instead. She’d gotten as far as Edinburgh, and been officially reported as missing when a haphazard group of “friends” realized that they hadn’t seen her in several days.

News could die quickly, unless it was really sensational. The missing persons report on the first girl had run in the local papers and then been forgotten. Until Bruce had discovered her body in the forest while out riding, facedown, decomposed to a macabre degree.

He’d missed the notice about the second disappearance. But there had been no missing the fact of where the body had been found—Tillingham Forest. Eban had found the second victim there, months later.

Prostitutes. Drug addicts. The lost and the lonely. They’d needed help, not strangulation.

He sat in his car for a minute, staring out the windshield.

He was parked right in the center of town, where a fountain sat in the middle of a roundabout. Atop the fountain was the proud statue of a Cavalier. There was no plaque stating his name, or the dates of his birth or death, or extolling his deeds. But the locals all knew who the statue portrayed—the original Bruce MacNiall. And tonight, he’d play his ancestor.

A sudden irritation seared through him. “You’d think they’d give you the benefit of the doubt, old boy. But let time go by and now you’re a hero—suspected of killing the love of his life!”

There really was no proof that Bruce MacNiall had killed Annalise, but it made for a good story. And just as some historians saw the Stuart champion as a great hero, others saw him as a fool willing to risk the lives of far too many in his own pursuit for glory.

The idea of Bruce MacNiall having killed his wife didn’t sit well with him. And still, he had said that he’d play the part. Life sure had it ironies.

“Well, old fellow!” he muttered, “I’ve never heard it proved that you did any such thing, but it’s entertainment these days, eh?”

He threw the car into gear and started toward the castle on its tor.

Entertainment! Was someone killing prostitutes for fun?

He drove by the forest and slowed the car to a crawl. He knew that to find anything within it, they’d have to delve deep into the woods and the streams.

His heart ached for the girl. He knew she was already there, decaying in the woods. And he had known it as a certainty last night, when he had dreamed about seeing a body floating facedown.

Except … in his dream, it had been the body of Toni Fraser.

5

“Hey! What are you doing out here?”

Toni turned to see that David had come out to the stables. She was a little surprised. David liked horses well enough, but usually when they came to him or happened to be where he was. Ryan was the expert rider in their crew.

She had been stroking the gorgeous black nose of Bruce MacNiall’s huge Shaunessy. The animal was mammoth and, she was certain, an amazing power when ridden. He was also well mannered and seemed to enjoy affection. Amazingly, he seemed to have nothing against Ryan’s gelding—at least, not so far as sharing the same living quarters.

“I was just out exploring,” Toni told David, “and thought I’d come down here. I love that fellow Ryan bought—he’s a great horse for the money. But this guy—” she indicated Bruce MacNiall’s huge black “—he’s really something. Of course, I still love our horse best, but … he is gorgeous.”

“Yes. And imposing, just like his master.”

“The great Bruce MacNiall, who happened to ride in after we put our blood, sweat and tears into his place!” Toni commented.

David grinned. “That’s Laird MacNiall to you, so I understand,” he teased.

She waved a hand in the air.

“Well, the situation is pretty sad,” he murmured. He strode across the stables then, coming to her side. He searched her eyes. “You okay, kid?”

“Well, as okay as any of us,” she told him.

David gave Shaunessy a stroke on his velvet forehead. “Don’t feel that you are to blame, no matter what happens. We all rushed into this. And if it seems that we’re giving you a hard time, it’s mainly teasing—or the fact that it’s human nature to want to blame someone else!”

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