And the darkness that quickly followed.
She scrubbed her face with her hands, attempting to make the remnants of the dream disappear.
But the wisps of memories persisted.
The light like pinpricks filtering back into her eyes. And then the vomiting of water as her stomach pushed it out, her body heaving and retching.
A hand at her back.
Was it her sister? Had Daniella pulled her from the dark depths? “Daniella?” she pushed out through frozen lips.
“Another was with you?” Not Daniella. This voice was deep, masculine.
She turned to look. The features were blurred, only the color of the eyes clear. Deep and blue and sparkling in an errant ray of sunshine.
“Daniella,” she repeated, this time frantic. “Daniella.”
He stood, scanning the landscape, his eyes hard and distant.
Laurel tried to sit up. Where was her sister? Why was this man looking for her?
But then he was gone.
A low moan ripped from her lips as Laurel tossed off the covers, climbing from the bed. The only way to truly clear the dream was to get up and move.
But with each repetition, the details seemed to be etched more sharply. Had the man saved her? She’d been so afraid of him in the dream.
But had her fear been misplaced? She shook her head. So many questions.
And after a year of wondering, she knew the dream would only leave her if she found answers.
Which was why she’d hired two private investigators.
She used the wordhiredloosely. The two women who’d agreed to help her were both excellent sleuths. One who’d solved murders for the police, Lady Charlotte Westmoreland, was a countess by day and a top-notch investigator by night.
And Lady Rebecca Northhampton, a marchioness and former newspaper investigator and writer, had an incredible amount of resources at her fingertips.
The ladies had begun by combing through all the old articles about Daniella’s disappearance, which had been ruled a drowning. In fact, they met each morning to read more.
The clock in the hall chimed and she counted five strikes. The sun would rise soon and Charlotte and Rebecca would arrive promptly at eight. They always did.
There was little point in attempting to return to slumber, so she crossed to the pan of water placed on the dressing table and splashed several handfuls on her face. She might as well ready herself for the day.
A few hours later, Laurel sat with the two women as they worked, not that she understood everything they said. They spoke some common language she didn’t share. Still, she listened attentively, trying to discern where the search was leading them.
“Interesting,” Charlotte said as she pointed at a piece of text. Her dark hair was knotted back simply, her willowy body straight and erect. “What do you think of this?”
“He’s on the list of men to question for certain,” Rebecca answered, a classic beauty whose perfect features were set in serious lines. Rebecca tapped her perfect chin as her lips pursed.
“Who?” Laurel had asked, squinting down at the page. The name of the local commissioner was just above Charlotte’s finger. He’d newly taken the position when Daniella had been washed away and he held it still. “Constable Danby was very sympathetic all through the process of searching for Daniella.”
“Hmmm,” Charlotte had answered.
“His name keeps coming up. He made a great many statements.” Rebecca scribbled something in a notebook she kept in her lap.
“He investigated her disappearance,” Laurel added uselessly. She knew she wasn’t helping.
“We’ll speak with him,” Rebecca had assured her, continuing to read, her green eyes flicking up to Laurel’s as they softened a great deal. “He will be our best resource for certain.”