Vanished by Jordan Gray Page A

was Liam McKenna telling one of his tour groups about gold stolen from gypsies in Romania. Gold that wascursed.” Molly raised her hands and waggled her fingers in a “woo-woo” motion.
    â€œRumors of treasure. Oh, yes.” Michael switched off his computer. “I’ll ask Rohan, but if the rats knew where Willie found the coins—where the lads in the 1840s found the coins, come to that—the spot would already be overrun. As soon as word spreads that Willie has those coins, the tunnels will be flooded.”
    â€œThe coins are Willie’s, I guess, unless the police can prove otherwise. I hope Fotherby locked them up at the police station. I don’t exactly trust him.” Molly strolled over to the window.
    â€œNor do I.” Turning off the desk lamp, Michael joined her.
    Night had at last fallen. Toward the bay they could make out the converted Victorian gas lamps along Dockside Avenue, illuminating the scene for people still eating and dancing. Hopewell’s yacht was lit with tiny fairy lights outlining the masts and yards. The lights of other boats in the marina and out the harbor rose and fell with the waves.
    Beyond the town, over the sea and the land alike, darkness ruled. There wasn’t even any dim glow from the grounds of Ravenhearst Manor beyond the harbor, an islet in the midst of encroaching peat bogs. “No tunnel rats or ghost hunters are running the Ravenhearst gauntlet tonight,” Michael said. “No tourists, either, despite all the ones stopping in town.”
    â€œMost of the stories you hear about ghosts at Ravenhearst are caused by a wall collapsing or an owl hooting…”
    â€œOr by one too many pints at the pub.” Michael always told himself that any dim lights they saw at the charred ruins of the manor were those of torches, not of restlessspirits better suited to Other Syde tours. And he intended to keep right on telling himself that.
    Molly leaned back against him. “Wallachia’s in Romania? So is Transylvania, right?”
    â€œRight.” Michael inhaled her scent, that of fall woods and spring flowers, wafting upward from her warm body. He slipped his cold hands into the front of her robe. Ah, yes.
    â€œDracula’s from Transylvania,” Molly went on, even as she snuggled her arms around his. “The fictional vampire, at least. But the historical figure—Vlad the Impaler—really is from that area. I thought Liam McKenna was just blowing smoke with all that about Dracula’s gold, but…maybe there is an actual connection. Rebecca says the rumors have been going around Blackpool for years. No reason Liam and Holly didn’t pick them up when they got here, especially since they make their living from what Aleister calls gossip and sailor’s tales.”
    â€œThey’re not the only ones.”
    â€œI bet Willie went looking for more coins and Naomi went with him—she wants out of town, after all. But people get lost in those tunnels. People die…” Molly’s voice drifted away into the darkness.
    â€œNaomi’s out there somewhere, love,” Michael stated. He didn’t need to add the corollary: We will help Dylan find her.

CHAPTER FIVE
    M OLLY ADDED AN EXTRA teaspoon of sugar to her cup of tea. Funny, when she lived in the U.S., she almost never drank hot tea, preferring it iced and her hot drinks made with coffee. But now that she lived in the U.K., the cuppa was a given, like driving on the left. “I’ve got nothing,” she said.
    Iris’s reading glasses rode low on her nose. A pencil poised in her hand, she peered at the newspaper lying in the space between tea cozy and toast rack. “When I lived in the States, I’d do the New York Times ’s weekend puzzles, but they’re quite undemanding compared to these British puzzles.”
    â€œSorry, I can’t concentrate. I’m worried about Dylan and