Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [49]
“I don’t know. I never do until I see it.”
When he got the door open they found themselves in an empty basement room. A well-worn trail of footprints cut through the decades of dust and grime that covered the stone floor.
“Someone came this way often over the years,” Virginia said.
He angled the lantern and crouched to view the footprints. “It is impossible to make out individual tracks because there are so many of them, but most appear to have been left by a man.”
“Hollister.”
“No doubt. I see the prints of a woman’s shoes, as well. More than one woman, to be precise. Whoever they were, they came through here recently.”
“Lady Hollister and the servant who helped her carry me down here, perhaps.”
“No doubt.” He straightened and aimed the lantern at the flight of steps at the far end of the room. “Let us see where that leads.”
They climbed the steps. The door at the top opened onto a darkened library. When they emerged into the room Owen saw that the opening they had come through was concealed as a section of bookshelves.
“A house of secrets,” Virginia said. “But obviously Lady Hollister knew at least some of those secrets.”
Owen set the lantern on the desk and began opening and closing drawers. “Others may have known them as well. Lady Hollister’s companion, for example. Or some of the servants.”
“I do not recall seeing any servants other than the housekeeper when I arrived. There must have been a couple of daily maids and a gardener, at the very least. One simply cannot run a household this size without staff. But I can’t believe that they would have remained silent if they had suspected what was going on down in that chamber.”
“By all accounts this was a rather eccentric household.” He closed one drawer and opened another. “If most of the staff came in daily and did not live on the premises, it’s possible that they never knew about their employer’s unpleasant hobby down in the basement.”
Virginia came toward him. Her shoes made no sound on the expensive carpet. “Are you searching for anything in particular?”
“It would be rather useful to find a record of the purchase of one or more of those damned clockwork devices.” He closed the last drawer. “But there is nothing of that sort here. Just some blank paper and a few odds and ends.”
Virginia began plucking books at random off the shelves. After half a dozen volumes, she opened one and paused.
“This is interesting,” she said.
He rounded the desk. “What have you got there?”
“There are a number of photographs concealed in this book. They all appear to be of young women and girls about Becky’s age.” Virginia looked up quickly. “Dear heaven. I fear that this is a record of Hollister’s victims.”
He took the book from her and examined the photographs. Each showed a young woman dressed like a prostitute. Each girl in the pictures was lying on the bed in the mirrored room, clearly dead.
Wearily Owen closed the book. More victims he had failed to save, he thought. More images to haunt his nights. “He indulged his obsession for years, and no one ever knew.”
Virginia touched his hand. The knowing look in her eyes told him that she understood what was going through his mind.
“There is no changing the past,” she said. “There will always be monsters. You cannot hunt them all. You will do what you can, but you must accept that you will not be able to save every victim.”
“Knowing that truth and accepting it are two very different things.”
“One accepts such truths by concentrating on the present and the future, not the past.”
He smiled. “Where did you learn such wisdom?”
“My mother told me that when I was thirteen and just coming into my talent. She said I must never forget that although I would see a great deal of evil in the mirrors, once in a while I would be able to find justice for some of the victims and provide a sense of peace to some of those left behind. She said those rare moments must be enough to sustain me or I would be driven mad by the afterimages I would view in the years ahead.