The beautiful young bride of the town’s wealthiest man has been missing for several months and rumors of her whereabouts are rampant. Some speak of murder at the hands of her husband. Others claim that the young beauty died at the hands of a jealous ex-boyfriend. She could have run away, but why would a woman throw away a life of luxury? When a group of friends begin to search for her, they quickly discover that their lives are in danger by those determined to keep the woman’s whereabouts unknown.
I inserted the key into the key hole and opened the front door. Without a word, Ash and I walked inside. The hall was huge and decorated with expensive looking furniture, and decoration pieces made of crystal lined the shelves. Pictures of Nigel’s forefathers hung on the walls. The people in the pictures had an air of importance around them, similar to Nigel’s.
“You look downstairs,” I told Ash. “I’ll go and check upstairs. Meet you back here in a few minutes.”
“What am I supposed to look for?” Ash asked in a whisper.
“Don’t know,” I answered. I wasn’t even sure what to look for myself.
I began ascending the huge staircase. A huge portrait of Mr. Nigel and Devona greeted me at the landing. They looked happy to me. Nigel looked less serious and arrogant and Devona was beautiful in a pink gown. Giving the picture another look, I walked to my left and opened the door to a bedroom. I opened the drawer next to the bed and found a photo album full of pictures from Nigel’s and Devona’s wedding. The more I looked, the more their marriage appeared as if it had been a private affair. The entire photo album showed only the bride and her groom.
*****
It took me a few minutes to realize that I was bound to a chair. “People know that I’m here,” I yelled at him.
He didn’t seem to listen and gently stroked Devona’s long blonde hair. I looked around the attic. Jars filled with red liquid lined the wall behind Devona. I noticed my cell phone near her chair smashed into pieces.
“Why?” I asked as I tried to loosen my hands.
“Devona is special,” he said, and I watched him pick up a syringe from a table. “My master told me that.”
“Who is you master?” I asked. He has gone totally crazy.
“Shut up!” he yelled at me. “Do not speak of my master with your filthy mouth.”
I tried to move my feet, but they were bound as well. I turned my head. There wasn’t anything sharp in my reach either. I needed to escape from this place.
“It was my master’s doing,” he said, pouring the blood into a jar.
I noticed that the attic door behind me was open. If only I could move the chair a little. I slowly began to push the chair toward the attic stairs.
“Stop!”
I was grabbed by my hair and couldn’t catch my balance.
“You imbecile!” he yelled. “My master will be proud to hear that you are dead,” he said, and I saw him raise the knife.
