She needed to talk with John McCawley.
She headed out again, just as she had the night before. There was no moonlight yet, the autumn sun fading, a brooding darkness hanging over the cliffs brought on by an overcast sky. She’d exited by the front to avoid running into anyone at the rear. She walked around the castle, from the manicured front to the wild and atmospheric rear, and hurried to the chapel.
John McCawley was waiting in front of the altar, staring up at it.
“Did you see her?” he asked, turning. “Did you see my Elizabeth?”
“I did,” she told him. “And I told her and, of course, you know that she loves you. She thinks she was murdered. She didn’t kill herself.”
“What?” he asked.
“She believes that there was a maid at the house—Margaret or Molly—who wanted her father’s attention. And that Molly believed that she could start by ridding the world of the two of you. And Molly had a brother—”
“David,” John told her. “He was always coming to the stables, asking for any extra work.”
“She believes that David shot you and that Molly poisoned her.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Probably not after all these years,” Jane said. “But you know. The two of you know. Maybe that’s enough.”
His face darkened and he began to frown. Jane thought that she had said something that disturbed him. But then she realized that he was looking behind her.
She spun around.
And saw a figure dressed in black.
She started to draw her Glock, but before she could something came hurtling at her. Ghosts didn’t have much strength—thus the tales of rattling chains and squeaking floors and chairs that rocked themselves. But they did have something. And Jane was sure that John McCawley had used all of his strength to cast himself before her. She dove behind one of the pews, drew her gun, and fired. The solid thunk she heard confirmed that her bullet had found the wood of a pew.
She rolled and took aim again.
But there was no one there.
The wraith in black was gone, and so was John McCawley.
She rose. Her phone was ringing.
Angela.
She answered, watching the door to the chapel.
“I found out more about your Margaret Clarendon,” Angela told her. “She does have a descendant working at the castle now.”
Chapter 9
Detective Flick was waiting for Sloan and Logan when they entered the castle. He immediately directed them to Detective Forester, who had set up in the Great Hall. They sat and told him what they’d discovered at the M.E.’s office.
“We’re going to need a search warrant,” Forester said. “We need to find whatever object carries Denise Avery’s blood.”
“You don’t need a warrant.”
Emil Roth stood at the arched entry to the Great Hall.
“I own the property. I give you my permission to search every room. I believe there’s a legality about guests in rooms, but I believe my guests will give you permission, too. Am I correct, gentlemen?”
“Of course,” Logan said.
“Then I’ll call in some backup,” Forester said, “and we’ll get to it tonight.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Logan said.
“Where are Kelsey and Jane?” Sloan asked.
“Kitchen, I believe,” Forester told them.
Logan and Sloan headed out of the Great Hall to the kitchen. Kelsey was sitting there with Chef and Harry and Devon.
“Something to eat?” Chef asked.
“No, thanks. We had some horrible food in town,” Logan told him.
Chef grinned. “I do have the reputation for being the best around.”
“I’d not argue it,” Logan assured him.
“Why would you stop in town when you’re staying here?” Chef asked. “And how were you out when the rest of us are prisoners here? Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re Feds.”
Logan slid into a seat at the kitchen table. “We went to hear gossip.”
Sloan remained standing. He still didn’t know where Jane was. “We heard a lot of interesting gossip. Apparently, not many people liked Mrs. Avery. In fact, they seemed to think that she was trying to make everything in the world go wrong for Emil Roth.”
Chef shrugged. “She treated him like he was a kid. When he hired me, not long after his dad died, they had a huge fight. I overheard them. She told him that he didn’t have the know-how to run anything and that he shouldn’t make decisions without her. I’m surprised he didn’t kill her. He was the heir, but she acted like she owned everything.”
“But he didn’t kill her, did he?” Sloan asked.
“Emil?” Harry asked. “He’s a decent guy. He’s like a regular guy, but with money. He’d be normal as hell if people like Mrs. Avery didn’t keep telling him that he had responsibilities as if he were Spiderman or something.”
“Where’s Jane?” Sloan asked them.
Kelsey, who’d been sitting at the table, frowned. “I’ll go see.”
“Wait. I’ll just try her phone,” Sloan said.
He dialed Jane’s number and listened as they continued to talk.
“The people in town even seemed to think that Avery hired only attractive maids to try and get Emil involved with them,” Logan said.
“Was that her plan?” Harry asked.
“I never had it figured as an actual plan,” Devon said. “Go figure. That dried up old prune of a biddy setting Emil up for sex!”
“Did it work?” Logan asked
“At first, maybe. A few girls wound up being fired for various infractions. Oh, never for flirting with or co-habiting or whatever you want to call it,” Chef said. “They’d be fired for failing in their duty, for disturbing a guest, things like that.”
Logan heard an unspoken but. “What?”
“That all ended a few months ago,” Devon said.
“Just spit it out, they know everything,” Harry said. “They’re Feds, remember? Emil is crazy about Scully Adair. And Scully is crazy about him. I don’t know how they were managing to hide it from Mrs. Avery. All the rest of us knew.”
“But, he did see people before that?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s young, good-looking, rich. Who wouldn’t have seen him?” Harry asked.
Jane’s phone was ringing and ringing with no answer. Sloan ended the call and looked at Logan and Kelsey.
“Now we go and find Jane,” he said. “She’s not answering, and I’m pretty sure I know who we’re looking for. Kelsey, go get the detectives. Logan, will you search the house? I’m heading out to the chapel.”
“What can we do?” Chef asked.
“Stay put,” Sloan told him.
* * * *
Jane cautiously stepped out of the church. The overcast sky seemed to have fallen closer to the ground, a dense fog rising to meet it. The graveyard, benign by day, now seemed to hold dozens of places to hide. Winged angels cast shadows over crooked stones. Trees grew at a slant and gargoyles loomed over tombs, warding off all evil. Standing in the doorway for the chapel, she was in clear view.
“You know I have a gun and I do know how to use it,” she said, addressing the graveyard. “You might as well come out. I’m sure that you want me to think that Scully Adair is doing all this. After all, you know that Scully is a descendant of Margaret Clarendon. And you must have heard that there were a few references to the fact that Margaret was suspected of having helped Elizabeth along to her death. But, you know what? I don’t think that Scully herself knows that she has any relationship to the castle. Margaret’s child with Emil Roth went up for adoption. We only found out the truth because we have access to all kinds of records. Phoebe, you were good. I mean that scream you let out when you found Reverend MacDonald was really something. And the shock in your eyes? Amazing. So, you had an affair with Emil Roth. You thought you were the one. And I don’t believe that you did kill Cally Thorpe. That was really just a tragic ac
cident. But if people started dying at every wedding, that would give the castle a real reputation. But that wasn’t enough. You figured you’d get rid of Mrs. Avery. Make it really ghostly. You hated her, because she sucked you in. She fed you the story about Scully and her being a descendant of Margaret. You thought you’d replay history, except this time you’d win!”
Jane barely ducked in time as a piece of broken plaster wing off a cherub came flying her way. By the time she was up again, her quarry had moved. Slinking low, she ran from one tomb to the next.
“Phoebe, my Krewe will have figured it out by now, too. Killing me will get you nowhere. Nor is there anywhere for you to go. You’ll be arrested, and you’ll face murder charges. If you give yourself up right now, I can try to help you.”
Jane had moved away from the chapel a fair distance. Phoebe was leading her to the rear, a place where the graves began to ride down the slopes off the cliffs. She raised her head, trying to see in the near darkness. She thought she heard something—coming from behind her.
She was certain that Phoebe was before her!
Something thumped into the gravestone she’d ducked beneath.
An arrow.
She heard laughter from the fog-riddled graveyard before her, eerie in the strange dying light and the cool air.
“No one gets married here! They don’t marry here. They die here!” Phoebe called to her.
Jane thought she heard a snapping sound on the ground, coming closer. She rolled quickly and slunk on the ground, staying low. She was armed and she could aim. But she couldn’t make out a damned thing to shoot at.
“Brides die!” Phoebe cried, laughing.
The sound was both ahead and behind Jane.
In fact, it seemed to come from all around.
* * * *
Sloan was quickly on his feet, racing to the back of the house. At the rear exit from the kitchen, he thought that he felt someone behind him.
He turned.
And she was there. Elizabeth Roth.
She stared at him with a drawn face and worried eyes.
“I’ll find her!” he promised.
“The fog has fallen,” Elizabeth said.
“I’ll find her!” he said. “Come with me?”
“I can’t leave the house.”
“Try.”
She shook her head.
He couldn’t wait.
He bolted out of the castle and was instantly astounded by the pea soup of New England fog he found himself within. He could still see the spire of the chapel, so he headed toward it. He made his way through the gate, down the path, and threw the chapel door open.
Jane wasn’t there.
But he heard something.
Laughter.
Eerie in the strange fog. It seemed to come from the left, and then from the right.
“Jane!” he shouted. “Jane!”
He heard her reply.
And as he did, he realized that shouting had been a mistake. She was might be risking her life to shout out a warning to him.
“It’s Phoebe and someone else, Sloan! Someone else with a bow and arrow, hunting us down,” Jane shouted back to him.
He dropped to the ground just as something whizzed by his head. He tried to calculate the source of the arrow that had come his way. But whoever was shooting with a bow and arrow was now halfway around the church.
The laughter had come from the far rear.
On his hands and knees, he crawled around the graveyard.
* * * *
Jane tried to determine where she was, but with the distance they’d come she thought she might be in the back of the chapel, near the cliffs.
“I’m going to get you!” Phoebe said, her voice startlingly near.
She couldn’t see anything. So how could Phoebe?
She didn’t reply.
Then Phoebe began to chant. “Good girls die, the bitches lie, the brides go straight to decay. This time round, the good girl dies and the bitch’s lies will let her win the day!”
“How do you see this as winning?” Jane cried out. “Emil is seriously in love with Scully. He’ll marry her and you’ll go to jail.”
“Not true. Scully is right here with me. And if you don’t show yourself now, she’s going over the cliff!” Phoebe cried.
“I don’t believe you. Scully was in the castle.”
“She’s here now. Wanna hear her scream?”
Jane heard a muffled cry.
Scully.
She winced, bracing against a gravestone.
“If you don’t come out, she goes over the cliff right now!”
Sloan was out there, too, she thought. He had to be.
She’d be all right.
Or would she?
* * * *
Sloan kept silent and crept along the earth.
Another arrow flew past. That one, he was sure, had been sent blindly. He crept for what seemed like a lifetime but, looking at his watch, he saw that two minutes had passed. Another arrow flew by. This time he saw the arch and pattern.
He crept in the right direction.
Slow and silent.
At last he found himself behind the archer.
He waited and watched, forcing himself to be patient.
When the archer went to string another arrow, he pounced.
And together, they started rolling downhill.
* * * *
Jane realized there was nothing to do but stand. Her Glock was tucked into the back of her jeans.
“I’m here,” she cried.
“Come out where I can see you!” Phoebe demanded.
“Where is that?”
“Come closer to my voice.”
She did as told and tripped once over a broken stone, but then she saw images appear before her. Phoebe had somehow taken Scully hostage. She stood with Scully, close to the edge of the cliff, and held a knife to her throat.
“Drop the gun,” Phoebe said.
“Let Scully go first,” she said.
“Drop the gun, or she goes over.”
“You’re going to die or go to prison,” Jane said.
Phoebe shook her head. “You’ll be dead. And the whole thing will look like the crazy Krewe of Hunters unit—the ghost unit—went off the deep end and killed everybody. Then Emil will come back to me. He’s young and sweet and pliable. He’ll love me again.”
“You were never anything but an affair to him, Phoebe. He loved Scully from the start.”
“Put the gun down. She’s already bleeding,” Phoebe warned.
Should she pretend to do as instructed, then shoot? She could aim for Phoebe’s head, but if either woman moved—
Someone lightly touched her.
And she heard a whisper that seemed part of the fog.
“Your love is behind you. Duck down. I’ll do what I can.”
Jane reached for her gun, dropped to the ground, and told Phoebe, “She’s coming for you.”
“Who?”
“The ghost of Elizabeth Roth. She’s disgusted with what you’re doing, trying to use the past to make a mockery of the present. She’s there. At your side. Can’t you feel her? She’s touching you now.”
“You’re full of—” Phoebe began and broke off.
Elizabeth Roth was there, standing next to Phoebe, touching her hair.
Jane flew to her feet, sprinted forward, and caught Phoebe and Scully together, bringing them all down.
They landed hard, but Scully was free.
“Get up and run!” Jane ordered.
Thankfully, Scully had the sense to obey.
Phoebe still held her knife. She jumped to her feet in a fury, knife raised, ready to leap to where Jane had fallen.
But a shot rang out.
Phoebe paused midair. Then her body was propelled backward, disappearing into the fog. Jane heard her scream until a distant thud, flesh impacting rock, silenced everything.
An unearthly quiet returned.
Then shouts everywhere
.
Logan and Kelsey. Forester and Flick. Chef and Harry and Devon and Lila and Sonia. All coming from the castle. Someone walked out of the fog toward her, gun in hand. Impossibly tall and broad and wonderful and always there for her. Her partner, in life, in work, and in breathing. Sloan didn’t speak as he drew her to her feet and into his arms.
He just held her.
And their hearts beat together.
* * * *
“But, Mr. Green?”
It was Emil who seemed the most shocked. He’d trusted the man, thought he’d had a champion in him.
It was nearly morning again.
And, as the survivors gathered in the Great Hall while Forester’s crew worked to find the bodies down the cliff, Sloan knew they were all grateful to know that there wouldn’t be another one at the foot of the stairs that morning.
“Why Mr. Green?” Emil repeated.
“I think he just became involved with Phoebe. When you stopped seeing her, she started planning her revenge. I think she was trying to find a way to make her past part of yours. Instead, she discovered that Scully is a distant relative,” Jane said.
“And,” Sloan explained, “once she’d come up with her plan, she knew she needed help. And poor Mr. Green, alone and lonely. He was no match for Phoebe. He did what she told him. I believe she had him convinced that she had to do what was right for you and if so, she’d be with him forever and ever.”
“But she wanted me,” Emil said, confused.
“She didn’t tell Green that part. She took care of the killing herself. But she needed him to help when it came to getting rid of you and Scully.”
Crimson Twilight Page 9