Chapter 9
Mercy walked into the main house, looking for breakfast. She was starving again. That little bit of toast earlier had long been used up. With the amount of work she’d been doing, she was unsure if anything could fill her. In the kitchen, she found the chef prepping breakfast.
He lifted his gaze. “I’ll have a plate for you in a few minutes. Go sit outside.”
She nodded and grabbed a cup of coffee. Muffins were off to the side in a basket. She took one of those and stepped onto the veranda. She hoped the chef would bring her a big plate of food, and she could save the muffin for later. But, when she looked at the muffin, she realized how hungry she was. She finished it off in about five bites. She had no butter to go with it because she’d felt like she’d snatched it instead of being allowed it.
As she finished, the young guy she’d met the day before stepped out, only this time he was minus the smile. Without saying a word, he gave her a plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns.
She smiled in relief. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m always hungry here.”
He shook his head and patted her shoulder. “We’re not supposed to be too friendly but no need to starve. I’ll bring the toast in a minute.”
Realizing from his words and manner he’d likely been chastised by Martha, like Mercy had, she gave him a quiet smile. “Well, the friendliness and extra food are appreciated. Thank you.”
He disappeared, and she dug in. It was a little hot outside, but it wasn’t too bad.
As she ate, she could hear voices approaching. This was a tiny little staff patio. She didn’t think anybody who worked inside the house took advantage of this. It was one of the reasons she liked to sit here. She could hear snippets of the conversation from those working outside.
“We’ve searched the lines all through the kitchen. There are no breaks, no tampering.”
“We have to keep searching. If we can’t get this going, we’ll have to run new lines. It needs to be done by noon today.”
“Got it.”
“Robert,” the first man said, “I’m not joking. Make sure it’s done by noon. Or else. Got that?”
She assumed it was Robert who answered, “We’ll do our best,” his voice a little nervous. Too bad she couldn’t see his face.
“No, that’s not good enough,” the other man said, his voice hardening a bit. “We need it done fast. We have things on tap that can’t go forward until we get the security system up and running.”
“Understood.”
The voices disappeared. She thought she heard one man still working on the side of the house.
Then the same young assistant came back out with a plate of toast. In his other hand he held a small plate with several muffins. He put them both down beside her. “If you don’t eat the muffins right now, you can always save them for when you take a break.”
She glanced up at him. “I haven’t been allowed to take any breaks.”
He nodded. “The place is touchy right now. Hang in there. You’ll be fine.”
At his words, she settled back and enjoyed her breakfast.
There was something very comforting about plain hot buttered toast after eating a meal. She packed the muffins in several napkins before putting them in each of her pockets and then carried her dishes inside, where she placed them on the counter beside the dishwasher. It looked like the chef and his assistant were meeting in a small nook to the side. She quickly left the room, headed out for her day. She’d be starting in the laundry room.
As she walked in, Martha stepped out. “Did you get your car?”
Forcing a bright smile, Mercy nodded. “Yes. Michael dropped me off downtown this morning.”
Martha checked her watch and realized Mercy was a few minutes early. “We have a lot of work to get through today.”
Mercy gave an internal cry of dismay. “The place has been scrubbed from top to bottom,” she said lightly. “I’m not sure what else there is to do.”
Martha gave her an unreadable look, then marched away. Mercy chose to take that as a sign nobody would explain anything to her.
She looked at her modified schedule. She had lots to do. It would be a long time before she had to ask for more work.
*
Michael ran errands, washed the vehicles inside and out and moved to the front yard. Never once did he go inside the garages. When he had tried, a security guard had blocked his entrance. When he explained what he wanted, the man turned to somebody else. Between the two, they brought out what Michael needed.
He walked back to the cars, figuring out how to gain access to the lower floors of the house. But that wouldn’t be so easy either. This place was locked down pretty heavily.
He also didn’t have any guns with him. Not that he needed them. A knife was more secretive, stealthy, more his style. By midafternoon he returned once again to yard work. As he walked to the garden shed to get the rose trimmers, he studied tracks through the fields. The estate covered ten acres, most of it cultivated landscape by the mansion. However, the other acres were hilly, and he’d never been away from the gardens. Other buildings could be here that he didn’t know about.
Considering the lower levels to the mansion, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to have outside access to those levels. But where? Once his mind went in that direction, he realized how many other options there could be. A bunker? More underground buildings? No, he would expect something within the five-thousand-square-foot mansion itself, if they were moving trucks back and forth. He hadn’t seen any mansion access that could accommodate a truck, but, as he contemplated the tracks on the far side of the garden shed, he realized there was more here to see.
He put on the heavy-duty gloves for the trimmers and went back to the roses. They were thick and heavy and so in need of a trim, which could be done after the roots were well-established. He worked steadily, all the while keeping an eye on what was going on around him. He could hear noises off in the distance, past where he’d seen the tracks disappear. A road appeared to pass through the cedar hedge. But he was too far away, so he couldn’t see what was going on over there.
He had seen no sign of Mercy since they had parted ways earlier this morning. He had looked for her at the little dining patio corner, but, the one time he’d walked past it, she wasn’t there. As far as he was concerned, this was a stronghold, with everybody extremely well-trained. This was no place for her.
While he finished off a cluster of roses, he figured out a time frame to follow those tracks. He was pretty sure an alarm was on his room’s door, probably on his windows also. He would have to disconnect those to leave and then reconnect them after he returned. He also considered a connecting door. Two apartments were above the repair garage. As far as he could tell, the other one was empty. He needed to find a way from one to the other. Absent a connecting door, he was hoping for attic access.
He finished another rosebush and tackled the one beside it. This was even bigger and older and in worse need of a trim. He returned to the shed, grabbed the wheelbarrow to collect all the rose trimmings and carried it to a large trailer used for transport to the dump, which had a special spot for compost materials.
On his return visit to clean up the last little bits and pieces, one of the security men waited for him. Michael collected the last of the trimmings, placed them in the wheelbarrow, laid his pruners on the top and said, “What can I do for you?”
“Take the rest of the compost to the dump now.”
He nodded; he knew it made no sense as the trailer was not even close to full yet. They were getting him out of the way. “No problem. I was planning to do that next anyway.”
“Robert is coming with you.”