A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,123
stormed into the Great Hall.
“Gara!” Brodie bellowed, and he was certain the rafters shook. He waited, but she still didn’t appear. “Gara!”
“Ma laird, nay one’s seen her either,” Berta said, wiping her hands on a linen towel as she rushed from the kitchens.
“Search every chamber and the attic,” Brodie commanded.
“We already did, ma laird,” Aggie said.
“Do it again. Lady Campbell is the priority. If you find Gara, bring her to the Great Hall and don’t let her move.” Brodie didn’t look to see where Monty and Donnan went. He suspected out to search the bailey. Graham helped give orders alongside Aggie and Berta. Brodie took the stairs to their chamber two and three at a time. He burst into the room and went to Laurel’s satchel. The same clothes she arrived with were still there. The only things missing were the clothes and boots he’d seen her don that morning. He rushed to his solar, but nothing looked out of place. The map remained on the table with the objects positioned how Laurel left them. He crossed the room and pulled the drawers to his desk open, riffling through papers, but nothing was amiss.
Brodie left his solar and ran through the Great Hall to the main doors. He sprinted across the bailey to the postern gate. Before he could ask, the guard assured him that he hadn’t seen Laurel except for when she was near his section of the wall and met with the shepherds. Brodie called up to the men on the battlements, but none saw anything.
“Laird!”
Brodie spun around and spotted James, a guard he’d planned to assign to Laurel’s personal detail. “Lady Campbell?”
“Nay, but ye need to see something.”
“It waits until I find Lady Campbell.”
“This canna wait, Laird.”
Brodie looked at James’s expression before he nodded. The man was shaken. He’d known James their entire lives. The guard was a year older than Brodie. A reason he wanted James to help protect Laurel was because it was nearly impossible to rattle the man. Brodie grabbed James’s shoulder as the guard spun around.
“Tell me now. Is it my wife?” Brodie whispered.
“Nay, Laird. But it’s vera bad.” James led Brodie toward the back of a storage building. Brodie squinted at a shape on the ground in the shadows. As he drew closer, he noticed blonde hair. His stomach sank, suspecting who he would see. But he was unprepared for what he found. He glanced at James, who shook his head. Brodie squatted beside Gara’s dead body. Whoever killed her had been vicious. Someone had stabbed her twice in the throat and several times in the belly.
“Get Ross and Graham,” Brodie ordered. He rolled Gara’s body onto its side, looking for any wounds to her back. But he found none. He rose when Monty, Graham, and Donnan joined him.
“What the bluidy hell?” Donnan hissed.
“I don’t ken.” Brodie looked at the men and shook his head before he squatted again. “This one on her throat killed her. It hit her jugular. It would have geysered blood, so why continue stabbing her? Or why not stab her there first?”
Donnan squeezed past Monty and Graham to kneel on one knee across from Brodie. He glanced around before he pulled the dead woman’s blouse up to her neck. “Look at how shallow these are. One of two things happened. Whoever killed her wanted to torture her before killing her, or they killed her but were furious enough to keep going even as she lay dying.”
Brodie nodded. He picked up each of Gara’s hands and looked at her fingers, turning them over. “No blood or hair. No more dirt than you’d expect. She didn’t fight back.”
“She knew whoever led her back here. She trusted them,” Monty mused. “Does she have a lover? Why else would she be back here during the day?”
“I don’t ken.” Brodie shrugged. Beyond her being a servant in the keep, he didn’t know the specifics of Gara’s personal life. He knew a couple men showed an interest in her, but he didn’t think she was involved with anyone.
“I’m thinking aboot what Donnan said. Other than the lethal strike, the other stabs are shallow. Would a mon do that? Wouldn’t you expect them to be deeper?” Graham asked. He pulled a dirk from his boot and one from his waist. “And look at the size of the holes. A mon’s blade isn’t that narrow. Even a sgian dubh would create a wider cut. These look like they came from an eating knife.”