by K S Logan
Grace was ready to pounce, rage boiling just under the surface, ready to explode on her sister. Don’t lose it, Grace, she told herself. “As a matter of fact, I am. I’ve had about all I can take of this house.”
“Oh?” Morvin sneered. “Keaton will be so disappointed that you’re heading back home so soon, as am I.” She was holding a teacup and saucer, stirring while she spoke. “I’ll have Piers contact you there when the papers are ready for you to sign.” She walked toward Grace, her small black heels clicking on the wood floor. “I am glad to see that you’ve come to your senses and realized that you don’t have any right to the inheritance. It was me that cared for Mother all these years, after all.” She was shaking her head at Grace, looking at her like she was stupid and useless, the way she always had, always did. She sipped her tea through her thin, wrinkled lips.
Grace couldn’t take it, enough was enough. “Oh, I’m not leaving Scotland,” Grace smiled. “Not until I see to it that not only do you and your sick bastard of a son get nothing, but I’m going to make sure you pay.” Grace leaned into Morvin’s face, her teeth gritted and neck straining. “Pay for everything you’ve done. I read one of those letters from Mother. You remember, the ones you hid from me? She was afraid for her life. She knew you were trying to kill her. You will not get away with this, Morvin.”
“Oh, my God. Poor gimpy Grace,” Morvin scoffed. “I know you may think you’re onto something, stupid girl, but you know nothing. Mother was very loopy near the end. She was doing some pretty crazy things, putting fake flowers in water, getting simple words wrong. She actually even forgot I had a sister! Can you imagine? It’s all been documented by my doctor.” She turned her back to Grace and began walking away. “Now, run along,” she said with a wave of her hand, “and take that pathetic, hideous, gimpy hand with you. It’s been making me sick to have to see that thing every day.”
That was it. Grace caught up behind Morvin, whirled her around by her arm and slapped her hard, right across the face. The cup and saucer smashed to the floor as Morvin gasped and put her hand to the reddening welt.
“You can’t hurt me anymore,” Grace said calmly, smiling. “Your words don’t hurt me anymore at all. You’re the pathetic one. You’re going to die a lonely, sad old woman after I’m through with proving everything you’ve done to this family. Goodbye, Morvin.”
Grace turned around, grabbed her bags, and slammed the door behind her. “Now whose smirking, you vile old bat? Wow...that felt great!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
It was starting to sprinkle again as Grace put her bags in the car. She got in behind the wheel and then quickly slumped down as a car sped up the driveway. Keaton got out of the passenger side, along with a few beer cans and fast-food wrappers. He yelled something incoherent to the driver and staggered to Morvin’s car. He fell into the driver’s seat and peeled off, following the other vehicle back down the driveway.
“Lovely boy you’ve got there, Morvin,” Grace said to herself.
She decided to walk to Cameron’s, taking the back way through the property, thinking that with Keaton gone, this would be a perfect opportunity to explore his domain. There was bound to be something significant there to prove both Morvin and Keaton’s guilt.
A fine mist coated her face as she made her way through the light fog to the outbuildings area. Keaton’s dwelling appeared faintly in the distance, getting clearer as she got closer. The fog thickened suddenly and was now like gray, cold, damp cotton.
The foliage around the building was overgrown, like the rest of the property. Grace took a quick look behind her as she ascended the creaky wood stairs and tried the door. Locked. She squinted through the large window beside the door, but it was impossible to see clearly through the years of built-up grime and dirt.
Grace walked around the left side of the small building, recalling that this particular one used to be Wilson’s living quarters. Grace remembered playing here, being quite a pest to the friendly groundskeeper, but he never complained or scolded her.
She tried the back door, also locked. Grace thought about trying a window when she noticed a small shed at the back of the little yard. This was padlocked, but it was so brittle she managed, with a bit of effort, to push it open, breaking the old rusted metal hasp. The smell hit her immediately like a punch in the stomach. As she covered her nose with the collar of her sweater, flies swarmed in front of her face. What was that smell? It was earthy, rotting, and sickeningly sweet.
She made her way carefully to the back of the shed, stepping over tools, and old gardening supplies. It was very dark, with not much light coming in on this wet, misty morning; with the dirty windows, not much could anyway.
Grace froze when she suddenly heard a twig snap. Someone was coming. She found a dark corner and backed into it, knocking over an old tin watering can in the process. She cringed as it crashed loudly to the floor and pressed herself into the shadow of the wall. The footsteps were coming closer, no doubt to investigate the noise. Maybe he’ll think it was a squirrel and walk away. Damn, he’s going to notice the lock is broken.
After her confrontation with Keaton in her mother’s room and the way he leered at her the other day, Grace knew this young man was seriously unstable and troubled. Who knows what he’d do if he caught her snooping around his house.
She heard him enter the shed. She could hear herself breathing and was sure he could as well. Grace closed her eyes, praying for invisibility, trying to stay absolutely still. She held her breath. Please go away, please, turn around and go away. His feet shuffled in the dirt of the doorway. Was he coming further in? She had to breathe, had to take a breath. As she opened her mouth to inhale the putrid air, she heard her own spittle make a noise as her lips parted.
More shuffling noises, more steps. The steps sounded to be getting farther away. He was leaving, but Grace dared not move. At least she could breathe and open her eyes, but she was not moving until it felt safe enough to do so. What if he was watching the shed? How would she get out of here?
Movement in front of the outbuilding caught Grace’s eye as a large hooded man appeared outside. He lifted his gaze in her direction. The man took off his hood and peered through the window. Grace had to stifle a gasp when she saw the familiar large scar down the right side of his face. He backed up, replaced his hood, and headed toward the main house.
She finally took a breath and allowed herself to come out of the shadows. As she made her way to the doorway, she stubbed her toe on a 2x4 plank, and it sent her hurtling forward, almost bashing her face on a shelf. As she righted herself, she discovered the source of the smell. She was face to face with the severed head of a dog.
She couldn’t tell if it was Piper or not, but this had obviously been here for a while. She almost tripped over her own feet in her haste to get the hell away from the corpse.
Grace ran for the trail that led to the back of the estate and to Cameron’s. She stopped short, though, when she heard a faint crying noise. She waited. There it was again. A definite whining followed by scratching. It was coming from somewhere to her right, in the trees. She followed the sound.
The sound got louder, and she saw a large cage behind a cluster of spruce trees. Inside the cage was Piper, tied tight by the neck to one side and muzzled. The cage door was padlocked.
“It’s okay, Piper. I’ll get you out,” said Grace. The poor dog looked at her with sad, pleading eyes. He was so excited to see her that he was nearly strangling himself. “Calm down, buddy, it’s okay.”
She searched the ground for a rock, keeping an eye on her surroundings for the hooded psychopath or Keaton. A few feet away, she found a sharp-edged rock and, after a few tries, managed to smash the lock open. Poor Piper was coughing and gagging now from the tight rope around his neck. Grace finally freed him after struggling with the knot, and Piper’s large flailing body, and then removed the muzzle from his face. He knocked Grace over with kisses as soon as his mouth was free.
“Come on, boy,” said Gra
ce. “Let’s get you home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I’m going to tear that little bastard apart!” The veins were bulging out of Cameron’s neck. He’d checked Piper over, and the dog seemed fine, just incredibly thirsty.
“I know, and I don’t blame you. But please, Cameron, I need to get all of this straight in my head first. I want to go about this the right way so that they fry for everything they’ve done.” Grace led him to a kitchen chair and motioned for him to sit.
“Well, you’re not going back into that house. That’s for bloody sure.”
“I agree. I’m seriously scared,” Grace confided. “It all points to Morvin.” Grace began pacing while she talked. “I believe she poisoned my mum because Keaton is in huge financial trouble, and, let’s face it, the house is falling apart. Morvin needed money, and my poor mother was standing in the way of her getting it.” She stopped pacing and looked at him. “And I think she did it with the water hemlock plant. I found a book in my father’s library about it. Apparently, ingesting it can cause cardiac arrest.”
Cameron got up from the table and poured them each a glass of wine.
“Cameron, I found a plant, which looks a lot like water hemlock, in Morvin’s garden.” Grace took a big swallow.
“But you don’t seriously think your sister is capable of actual murder, do you?” Cameron asked.
“Well, I know she’s a very jealous, miserable old crone who’d do anything for that waste of oxygen she calls a son.” Grace held out her empty glass for a refill. “Let’s not forget that poisonous gas order Charlie called about. I looked into that too and, if inhaled, it can cause stroke-like symptoms. What if Aunt Lena was on her way to talk to me, but Morvin got to her first?” Grace sat back down. “I’m going to the police with all this first thing tomorrow morning, Cameron. Will you come with me? And,” Grace paused and looked at her glass, “is it okay if I stay the night?”
“Absolutely. That’s a good idea,” Cameron said. “But this is all just too incredible. I mean, we’re not living in one of my novels. This stuff only happens in the movies, right?”
Grace put her head in her hands and fought back the tears. He’s going to think my family and I are a bunch of nutcases, she thought.
He went over and rubbed her shoulders. Then he gently turned her to face him. “I’m with you on this, Grace. We’ll see it through together in the morning. For now, I want you to try and relax. You’re safe here.” He took her chin in his big hand and kissed her gently on the lips. He moved her hair off her forehead and smiled at her, looking into her eyes, saying nothing, not having to.
“Thank you, Cameron,” she leaned forward and gave him a kiss this time. She parted his lips with her tongue, and he welcomed it. The kiss deepened, their breath quickened. She felt her insides pleasantly begin to quiver and knew if she didn’t back off now, there would soon be a point of no return. She wasn’t ready for that. She eased off.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Sorry about that. I’m having some trouble controlling myself around you.”
“Don’t hold back on my account,” he said, smiling. “I should take a look at my sauce. I hope you like spaghetti. It’s one of my specialties.”
“It smells amazing, Cameron.”
They continued to talk in detail about Grace’s situation over more wine and a delicious dinner. Grace told him about the unopened letters she found in Morvin’s bedroom. She told him about all the lies and about her disability.
“I hadn’t noticed your arm. You do very well we’ it,” he said.
They moved to the couch in the sitting room, bringing their wine with them.
Cameron lit a small fire and then sat down close beside Grace. He put his arm around her shoulders. She felt worlds away from Craigrook. It felt incredible...he was incredible.
Piper joined them in the sitting room and let out an audible sigh as he laid down in his bed by the hearth.
“That was some truly amazing spaghetti, Cameron. You sure you’re not Italian?” she asked, grinning.
“Maybe somewhere down the bloodlines, eh? I’m glad you liked it. Wait until you try one of my killer steaks.”
“I love a man who knows his way around a kitchen.” She changed position and kneeled beside him, one arm leaning on the back of the settee.
He squinted his eyes and looked at her quizzically. “You can’t cook, can you?”
“Not even toast,” she said and laughed loudly. Cameron laughed too.
“Come here, hen,” he said then, looking serious. “I want to kiss you again.”
Once again, the kiss started out soft and gentle but then quickly gained heat. Grace felt that quivering sensation deep within her and suddenly wanted him urgently, no stopping things this time.
Cameron’s strong hands explored her body through her clothes, but soon, that wasn’t enough, and he began to pull up her blouse. Grace suddenly backed away from him.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered gently. “Am I going too fast?”
She wanted him badly. Being with him felt so right. “No, not at all. I just—” She took a deep breath and pulled her blouse over her head. She turned her back to him. “It’s just these scars. I’m worried you’ll find them ugly and change your mind about being with me.”
He said nothing for a few seconds, and she was about to put her clothes back on when she felt him start to gently kiss her back. Tears welled up in her eyes as he continued to kiss and caress every single scar.
She turned to him then, and in unison, he laid on top of her as she lay on her back. He undid her jeans, and she wriggled out of them. He sat up straight, and she saw his taut, chest muscles as he stretched out of his t-shirt and threw it on the floor behind him. My god, he is the sexiest man alive.
He kissed down her neck, her stomach, slowly, taking his time, exploring her. She arched her back as he tasted every inch of her. He stood then and took off his jeans. He had a gorgeous body, naturally muscular, with light hair in all the right places.
He laid his body lightly on her again and looked deeply, knowingly, into her eyes. Then gently but powerfully, took her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him every inch of her, the pleasure made her moan loudly and arch her neck in ecstasy.
He leaned down and grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her face to his, and kissed her. “You are so bloody beautiful,” he whispered.
She exploded then, in an intense rush of heated, glorious passion, and he followed.
They laid there together, in each other’s arms, in silence for a time, as their breathing slowed to normal. Cameron brushed her temples lightly with his fingertips.
“It’s okay if you want to ask,” she said softly.
“If you want to tell me, I’m listening,” he responded.
“Morvin was very cruel to me when I was growing up. These scars are from just one of the times she physically hurt me.”
“Look, Grace. There’s a fawn down there,” Morvin said, excitement in her voice.
“No, there isn’t. I don’t believe you,” said Grace. Grace would love to see a fawn, though, and was tempted to look out over the hill.
“I’m not lying. You’re going to miss it. It’s so cute,” lured Morvin, knowing her sister’s pathetic love of all animals.
She couldn’t help herself. Maybe Morvin was telling the truth; she could be kind sometimes. Just enough so that she could suck Grace in when she wanted to.
Grace went over to the edge of the cliff and looked down below. She could see thick prickly brambles, all dried out from the summer months. The slope was steep and full of sticks and broken branches from the trees above. She couldn’t see any deer down there.
“It’s right there. Are you blind as well as useless? Look, there’s its mother,” Morvin said.
“Where, where?” Grace asked, eager to see the mother deer.
Morvin pushed Grace’s back, and she started to fall forward. Morvin grabbed Grace’s left arm by the wrist. Grace lost
her foothold and screamed.
“Oops,” said Morvin. “What are you going to do now, stupid?”
“Help me, Morvin, I’m going to fall. Please help me!” Grace was crying, squealing with fear.
“Come on, Grace. All you have to do to save yourself is reach out with your right hand, and I’ll grab it.”
Grace tried to move her right arm up to Morvin’s outstretched hand, but her arm didn’t work like that. The destroyed nerves, caused by physical trauma as an infant, drastically reduced most movement.
“I can’t.”
“Aww, what’s that? You can’t? Poor gimpy Grace, such a sad waste of space,” she chided. “Oh well, goodbye.” And with that final word, she let go of Grace’s wrist, sending her rolling down the steep, gnarly hill. She watched with perverse delight as her sister screamed, rolling, rolling, branches and sharp twigs snapping under her little body, or were those bones breaking? Morvin giggled to herself.
Grace felt hard sticks poking into her skin, through her clothes, all over her body. As she was falling, it was like her mind blocked out the pain until she finally came to a stop at the bottom. All around her were prickly brambles. Then the pain came all at once, and it was excruciating. She screamed in agony as she struggled to gain some footing and get out of the tangles. Her panic only entangled her further and the needles and prickles wedged deeper into her skin.
“What’s happened?” Grace heard her daddy’s voice from above.
“Help!” Grace squealed. “Daddy!”
“She fell. Help her, Father. She fell down the hill. I didn’t know what to do!” Morvin pleaded.
The big man held on to a long, overhanging tree branch and made his way slowly down the steep hill. At the bottom, he managed to stand on a large rock, then he bent over and scooped Grace out of the prickly brush.
Grace was covered in blood. He quickly got her back up the hill and raced across the field to his car with Morvin right on his heels. Grace cried in agony as he drove her to the nearby doctor.