Wedding Captives. Cassie Miles

      Chapter Four

      Spence was a medical doctor, certified in search-and-rescue emergency medical procedures, and while he’d interned at Colorado University Medical Center in Denver, he’d spent months in the ER, where he repaired bone-deep gashes, probed for bullets and had once delivered twins. The sight of blood shouldn’t have affected him.

      But when he saw the stain on Jenny’s wedding gown, and yanked the gown from the garment bag, his gut wrenched. The filmy white fabric burned in his hands.

      From the moment he’d first seen the castle, he’d sensed something was wrong, and other things only kept piling on to confirm his instincts. The remote location. The butler’s shoulder holster. The bizarre request to leave behind all cell phones, which were useless anyway without cellular service in the area.

      Then, not only the absence of staff and servants, but Jenny’s failure to appear at all. Spence couldn’t even excuse Rosemont, who might be expected to keep to himself were it not the weekend of his wedding.

      Now this. The bloodstain on Jenny’s bridal gown caused all the vague threads to draw together, like blood fibrin congealing. They were all caught up and in danger—perhaps mortal danger.

      What had happened to Jenny?

      Both Thea and Travis looked toward him as if they expected Spence to have an answer, but there was no rational explanation. It didn’t take the training or standard operating procedures of the search-and-rescue unit to state the obvious. “We should call the police.”

      “Right,” Thea said, her features drawn tight in anxiety for Jenny. She darted across the room and picked up the bedside telephone and stabbed out 911. But when she listened for an answer and apparently got no response, her alarm notched higher. She shook the receiver, tapped the plunger button. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, bouncing off the obscene marble statuary. She met his gaze with her eyes wide. “The phone’s dead.”

      “What the hell is this scene?” Travis yelled. “If that bastard hurt my sister, I’ll kill him. Swear to God, I’ll tear his heart out with my bare—”

      “That’s enough!” Spence commanded. “You won’t help Jenny by falling apart. We have to find your sister.”

      Travis sank onto a plush purple chaise longue. Leaning forward, he ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “It’s my fault. I should’ve taken better care of her.”

      For the first time, his voice held a surprising ring of sincerity. Though Travis was a brash, self-centered jerk, he might actually care about his sister.

      Spence hoped that was the case. If Rosemont turned out to be a bust, and it sure as hell was starting to look that way, Jenny was going to need her brother’s support.

      But where was she? Was she all right? Spence looked down at the gown in his hands and inspected the dried bloodstain, which was the approximate size of a postcard but irregular in shape. There were splatters. The fabric had not been torn.

      “This stain didn’t come from a wound.” He turned the bodice inside out. “You see? There’s no rip. And there’s less blood on the inside than the outside.”

      “What does that mean?” Thea asked.

      “Someone poured this blood onto the dress.”

      “But why?”

      “It might be a threat,” he surmised. “Maybe we were meant to find this dress.”

      She took his idea one step farther. “If someone wanted us to find the dress, it means the threat is directed at us. The wedding party.”

      “Bull.” Travis bolted from the chaise and got right up in her face. “This isn’t about you, babe. It’s all about my sister.”

      “Back off,” Spence warned.

      “You know what, dude?” Travis whirled and confronted him. “Who died and left you boss?” With a stiff index finger, he poked at Spence’s chest. “Why you? Huh?”

      Lightning fast, Spence clamped the younger man’s wrist in a vise-like grip. “Could be because between us, I’m the grown-up.”

      “Yeah, good old Spence. Manly man.” Through clenched teeth, Travis said, “You were at my old man’s funeral. Jenny said you were such a comfort. Said she couldn’t have made it without you. Well you know what? That should have been me.”

      “You’re right.” Spence hadn’t usurped the job of comforting Jenny. She had no one else; her brother was absent, tucked away in a rehab center, hiding from his grief. “You should have been there, Travis.”

      “You don’t know anything about me.” Travis wrenched away from him. Like a petulant, spoiled brat, he cradled his wrist.

      Spence turned toward Thea. Moments ago, he’d held her in his arms. He’d kissed her. That idyllic interlude seemed far gone, erased by the intrusion of real threats. Of danger. “Let’s go downstairs and tell the others. We’ll search the castle and find Jenny and then we’re out of here.”

      Thea was already on her way out the door. “Let’s go.”

      Leaving the gown in the bridal suite, they descended the narrow staircase into the kitchen.

      Lawrence sat on a high stool fiddling with some kind of hand-held electronic game. Dr. Mona had arranged fresh fruit in gleaming silver bowl and sat peeling apples and pears. “Did you find Jenny?” she enthused, then shrank into herself at Thea’s grim expression.

      “No. We didn’t.”

      While Spence outlined their discovery of the bloodstained dress and his plan to search the castle, he noticed the psychologist observing him closely with her bright black eyes. Occasionally, she nodded. Her expert opinion might be useful. “Mona, I’d like to hear what you think about all this.”

      “Blood on the wedding gown,” she said. Her small, wizened face twisted in a frown. “Highly symbolic, isn’t it? Almost archetypal.”

      “Psychobabble,” Travis said with a groan. “Can we get started with the search?”

      Ignoring him, Spence said, “What else, Mona?”

      “It’s a theatrical gesture, well-planned.” She scratched the back of her head, ruffling her short gray hair. “I’m reminded of those murder mystery weekends when several people gather