I CALLED CONKLIN and filled him in as I raced up the stairs to the main floor of the house. I found my partner sitting with Janet Worley at the round table in the kitchen, empty teacups and a plate of crumbs in front of them. Janet’s face was pale and pinched.
Nigel Worley was missing.
“Nigel took a swing at me. Any other day, I would have clocked him,” Conklin said.
“He’s under arrest?”
“For his own good.”
I said to Janet, “Where’s Nicole?”
“You don’t have the right —”
“I don’t need your permission, Mrs. Worley. Where is she?”
Conklin and I followed Janet up the main stairs of the house, boards creaking under our feet. I was thinking about Nicole Worley, the self-possessed young woman who worked for the good of animals and lectured to tourists about the history of the Ellsworth compound.
When we reached the sixth floor, Janet opened the first door on the left, the door closest to the back of the house.
The room smelled of floral sachet, an old-lady smell. I flipped on the light switches, expecting to see Nicole in the bed or in a chair. But the room was empty, and it looked like it had been empty for years. The bed was crisply made. There were no personal items on the dresser or on the nightstand.
“What’s this room, Janet?”
“Follow me. It’s this way,” she said, throwing a lightning bolt of a stare in my direction.
She turned and headed toward a small closet door in the corner of the bedroom where the ceiling slanted under the eaves. Janet opened the door, pushed aside clothing on a rod, then stooped to enter a hidden Alice-in-Wonderland doorway.
The door led to a tunnel that ran under the eaves. I turned on my flashlight and continued behind Janet Worley’s crouched form until the tunnel opened into another hallway, one with a staircase leading down and three doors off the landing.
I knew where we were.
This was the top floor of 2 Ellsworth Place, another concealed access point between the main house and the servants’ quarters around the corner.
Janet pointed to the door and said, “This is Nicole’s room. I doubt that she’s here.”
I pulled my gun as Janet knocked.
“Nicole. Are you here, darling?”
No sound came from within.
I reached around Janet Worley and tried the knob. The door was locked from the inside. I said, “Rich. Give it a try.”
I pulled Janet Worley aside and said, “Stay here in the hallway.”
Then Conklin kicked in the door.
Chapter 110
NICOLE WAS WEARING black up to her chin.
She had wedged herself between her bed and the window, propped her elbows up on the mattress, and was holding a large kitchen knife in front of her with both hands.
She was pointing that knife at us.
Her heart-shaped face no longer looked angelic. Her features were locked in a crazy stare and her hair was damp with sweat. Her green eyes were blank as stagnant pools.
She looked absolutely feral.