With a nod, Aila set off to the west. Saving the village was one thing. Ensuring no one else was contaminated meant finding the source of the radiation and eliminating it. Thankfully, a Geiger counter was also readily available in a Prime shopping world. That was only one part of their task, though. Once they dealt with the poison, they needed to find out who had done it.
And, with any luck, find out what the key in the medallion was for along the way.
She also needed to locate her dog.
Any part of it, she would have been able to accomplish as herself. Mistress Marshall out for a walk. If she wasn’t well-known among the villagers after the week she’d been in their time, at least her presence wasn’t bound to cause comment. Contrary to her friends’ opinions on the matter, she’d decided to disguise herself as well, arguing the need for a thorough search of the castle without drawing any undue attention.
When in truth, Aila didn’t want to invite Finn’s. Not yet, not unexpectedly. When she faced him, she wanted it to be in a time and place of her choosing. Prepared for and fully invested in the moment. Her current mission accomplished and unable to distract her.
She wasn’t certain she believed her own bullshit any more than they had.
At any rate, Aila was proud of her disguise. Some of the best makeup work she’d done in years. She blended seamlessly into her surroundings. There was no chance anyone would recognize her while she made her search.
Boyce was the obvious place to start. He’d been the hardest hit and the keeper of the secret she could only assume the killer had been out to find. As she was in the village already, his house came first. It still smelled appallingly rank, as if she’d left only moments ago rather than nearly a week. Which — in this time, at least — she had. A quick sweep with the Geiger counter picked up nothing other than the faintest reading.
Not that she expected it to.
There was only one place that could tie back to each of the people who’d fallen ill. A visit to the mill would merely provide confirmation of what she already suspected.
How it was done was also obvious.
It wasn’t thewhothat troubled her.
In retrospect, it, too, was fairly obvious.
What wasn’t waswhy.
Chapter 27
“I should have kent better than to let a dumb beast lead the way,” Finn muttered under his breath.
He’d followed Rab as if he were a reliable hound on the scent of a fox only to be led astray. First, the dog steered him toward the mill. As he’d quite recently come from there, he wasn’t willing to waste time retracing his steps. The shepherd chased a few sheep and led him in circles before Finn strong-armed the beast to return to the castle when the grey skies began to drizzle. Once they reached the bailey, the dog’s enthusiasm returned until he fairly quivered with eagerness. He raced around the enclosure, methodically pausing at each door before moving to the next. Finn took the time to peek into the chapel, dismissing the rest of the stops as possibilities. It was unlikely he’d find Aila in the larder, buttery, or smithy. Had the day been a hot one of midsummer, he might have considered the icehouse, but it was empty this time of year.
At each portal, Rab stopped to look back at him as if he’d triumphed in his task and was due praise in kind. What reward was there in failure? As he was learning with Niall and Effie, it didn’t do well to reward bad behavior. No matter where the animal guided him, there was no sign of Aila among the servants and craftsman milling about. If her hair hadn’t heralded her presence, her tall, lithe figure and fine clothing would have done so.
Finn felt as though he’d been sent on a wild goose chase. One of his own invention.
Inside, the dog sped through the scullery, the kitchen, and servants’ hall. Again, he lingered at each door, be it a threshold or cabinet. When he disappeared through the open entry leading to the undercrofts and cellars, Finn acknowledged it had been foolhardy to credit the beast with enough intelligence to track his owner.
Waiting for the dog to return so that he might drag him up to the nursery, Finn leaned back against the opposite wall and surveyed the room. The hall bustled with activity today. More than usual, as had the bailey now that he thought about it, and he wondered why. Maids hurried this way and that with armfuls of linens. Burly male servants clad in work clothes trailed Rab to the cellars. Idly he watched them come and go, noting that most were strangers to him. One by one, they reappeared laden with crates of wine or a keg over their shoulders. Only one returned empty handed.
Rab bounded out the door behind him and dashed back to Finn. Tongue lolling, panting through what looked suspiciously like a smile, the dog circled back a few feet and returned once more. As if he wanted Finn to follow.
He’d had enough of that. “Och, I’m done wi’ ye, Rabbie.” Finn shook his head. Admonishing the dog now? He’d taken on one of Aila’s bad habits to be sure.
With a curious trilling gurgle, the dog turned away once more and back. Rab’s expression seemed almost exasperated when he spun about again with a low garbled woof and loped crosswise the hall. He launched himself at the unsuspecting fellow who’d come from the cellars before him. His paws landed on the middle of the man’s back and the man stumbled forward with an oath.
His yelp was surprisingly high, not inconceivably so given the unexpected attack. What was unusual was that the voice was also surprisingly familiar.
The frown was back, stretching the muscles of Finn’s scalp to impossible lengths. He was a portly man, rotund in the middle and narrow at the shoulders. When he glanced over his shoulder to glower at Rab — as well he should — Finn took note of his bulbous nose and heavy jowls. Like many of the others today, he’d never seen the man around here before.
The fellow hurried away. Finn watched him go, taking note of the grizzled hair shorn close, above his collar. Squared shoulders rather than those hunched from years of labor. An effeminate sway to his gait that sent the length of his long woolen coat swishing about his knees.
Swishing.
Odd for a fellow of his years.
Finn rubbed away the persistent pinch between his brows before it made his head ache. The niggling sense that he’d missed something was not was easy to scrub away. Examining the hall and its occupants once more, he considered a search of the cellars himself as more men came and went. Men in rough canvas trousers and thick shirts. Not suits.
