In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) by A.W. Hartoin Read Free Book Online Page A

 
    “You, idiot.” Dad hauled me upright and I slid onto the floor. “Get dressed and come downstairs. We’ll go out the side door. Sandy’s waiting.”  
    That woke me up. “Sandy?”  
    “Yes. Get a move on.”  
    “Where are we going?”  
    “The bridesmaid trip,” said Dad with an exasperated sigh.  
    “Now? At four in the morning.”  
    “I’m not going through this again. Get up. Your bags are downstairs.” Dad left and I looked at the clock. It really was four a.m. Why was this my life? I’d been mostly good when people weren’t looking and yet here I was getting dressed to go on a bridal party trip for a wedding I didn’t know I was in until yesterday.  
    I slipped on a pair of flats and stomped down the stairs, trying to formulate a way to get out of it. After a little sleep, the Costilla threat seemed unreal. Would they really go to so much trouble to kill me? I mean, why bother? They had bigger fish to kill, federal witnesses, rival drug lords, innocent bystanders.  
    “Mercy!” Mom yelled up the stairs.  
    “I’m coming.”  
    And I’m going. To jump out of the car at the first opportunity.
    Mom and Dad were at the newel post. Dad had at his feet two full-size suitcases, a garment bag, a carry-on, and my purse.  
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “You said four days.”  
    “It is four days,” said Mom and she was looking me in the eyes. Not lying or at least she was getting a whole lot better at it.  
    “What do I need all that stuff for?”  
    “For whatever you do.”  
    “Which would be…”
    “How should I know?” asked Mom. “It’s your trip.”  
    “It’s not my trip. I don’t even know where I’m going.”  
    “Cairngorms Castle,” said Dad.  
    I backtracked up three stairs. “That better not be in Scotland.”  
    “It’s not in Scotland,” said Mom. “We wouldn’t send you to Scotland for four days.”  
    I wrinkled my nose. “Oh really?”  
    “Well, we wouldn’t this time. Cairngorms is on the edge of Johnson Shut-ins State Park. We took you there when you were thirteen. Don’t you remember?”
    I did remember after some effort. Cairngorms Castle was the creation of a mining baron who decided it was a swell idea to build a Scottish-style castle in the middle of nowhere. The estate put him into bankruptcy and two years after it was finished, he threw himself off the parapet. It was said to be bad luck as well as haunted by a succession of ill-fated owners who never lived more than three years after purchase.  
    “I thought it was abandoned?” I asked.  
    “Not anymore,” said Dad. “It’s a world-class retreat.”  
    “Wouldn’t I be safer here with you than at a retreat? There’ll be all kinds of people there.”  
    “My friends own it now.”  
    “Your friends own Cairngorms Castle?” I asked. “Don’t all the owners die in hideous ways?”  
    Dad pulled me down the stairs. “Not all of them.”  
    “Which one didn’t die?”  
    “Julien Delancy. He sold the castle to John and Leslie,” said Dad.  
    “Why’d he sell it?”  
    Mom pulled me past Dad. “Never mind that.”  
    “No. No. I mind. What happened to Delancy?” I asked.  
    Dad shrugged. “It was just an accident.”  
    “The kind of accident that only happens in Cairngorms Castle?”  
    “He was in the armory. He safed a flintlock pepperbox revolver.”  
    I crossed my arms. “And…”  
    “It wasn’t loaded, but he heard a rattle so he was checking it out and shot off his ear,” said Dad all nonchalant.  
    “Was his finger on the trigger?”  
    “No.”  
    “Did it at least have powder in the pan?” I asked.
    “Not so much,” he said. “Let’s go.”  
    “People actually pay money to stay the death castle?”  
    “Yes and handsomely, too. John and Leslie will take good care of you,” said Mom.  
    I glared at my parents. “What kind of friends are John and Leslie? Work friends?”  
    “You could say that,”