The Bed You Make
~ So Shines a Good Deed ~
It had taken a little time, but Commissioner Scorpio had finally hung up the telephone and informed him that a visit to Wyndemere had been arranged for him that very same evening. Munson's note concerned him. Alex knew he wouldn't relax until he'd seen for himself that Dara was okay.
He arrived at the docks near the Cassadine launch just before the darkness of night began to fall. It was not quite 7 p.m., a bit late for a visit, Alex silently acknowledged, but he wasn't on his way to a social call. He was on his way to Spoon Island to insure that Dara was all right.
This wasn't the first visit to Spoon Island for members of the PCPD. Each time they'd been called to a disturbance, officers had been forced to wait several minutes while internal security measures were taken. Alex agreed with fellow detective Marcus Taggert that it was more likely that the delays they experienced at Spoon Island were the result of Cassadine employees searching for and removing any damning evidence they might find.
There was no such delay this time.
During the short drive from the PCPD, Alex had steeled himself for resistance from Cassadine employees. At the least, the detective halfway expected to be turned away from the launch. So the two guards cooperation made him distinctly uncomfortable. He was glad there wouldn't be any trouble. Still, it felt … fishy for the Cassadine security staff to simply step aside and allow him access to the launch. The sudden turnabout of attitude was disarming.
The launch slid smoothly across the still waters surrounding Spoon Island. A gentle breeze danced; a scattering of stars twinkled faintly in the clear evening sky. If not for the presence of the twin giants seated opposite him during the ride to Wyndemere, Alex might have taken a moment to appreciate the breathtaking vista before him.
As soon as the boat docked, the guards disembarked, leaving Alex to follow them up the steps to the entrance of Wyndemere. "Good evening, Officer Garcia." The Cassadine butler, Alfred, greeted him at the door. "You are expected. Come in."
Alex stepped inside the imposing stone structure. It wasn't his first visit to Wyndemere, but he was still struck by the urge to gape like a tourist. "I am here to speak to Dara Jensen … Cassadine." The last was pulled from him. "Please let her know that I am here. I don't intend to leave until she has spoken with me."
"I am afraid that is not possible, Officer Garcia." Alfred stared at Alex solemnly. To Alex, the slim, birdlike butler was the epitome of every manservant ever seen in old black and white movies. "The Master and Mistress are not here."
And there it was. Alex knew that the guards had been just a little too cooperative in allowing him access to Spoon Island and Wyndemere. "They're not here." Alex's features hardened. "Where are they?"
Alfred removed a pocket watch from his vest. He thumbed the timepiece open and stared at it a moment. His movements were deliberate and unhurried. "I imagine the Master and Mistress are in bed asleep at this time." The butler gently closed the pocket watch. "Greece is 7 hours ahead of this time zone," Alfred explained.
"Greece? Dara is in Greece?" Alex's mind reeled. "Why would she go to Greece?"
Alfred's brows rose slightly. "It is," the butler sniffed, "where all Cassadine brides go."