by Rhys Bowen
She covered her face in her hands and lowered her head. A great heaving sob escaped from her. Hughes shut off the tape recorder.
Chapter 21
In the middle of that night, a storm broke over Llanfair. The thunder echoed, alarmingly loud, in the narrow confines of the pass. Lightning illuminated the mountaintops before more clouds rushed in to hide them again. Evan had woken in the still-unfamiliar room at the first rumble of thunder and had lain there, unable to sleep, counting the pauses between each flash and the following crash. Not more than a second or two. The storm was almost overhead and moving closer. Rain started drumming on the roof, almost drowning out the thunder. He was glad he wasn’t out in this one. A real drencher.
He certainly wasn’t going to be able to fall back to sleep until the storm was over, so he lay there, mulling over the events of the previous day. Emmy Court was being held in custody now, not having the funds to post bail. D.C.I. Hughes was satisfied that they’d got the right person, but Evan wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure what to make of her at all. Usually he was a pretty good judge of character but Emmy Court had got him stumped. Scheming. Manipulating. She showed no remorse about using Betsy so shamelessly. Apart from that one outbreak she had shown little emotion. Evan could easily imagine her dragging Randy Wunderlich to the sea cave and leaving him there to die if it suited her purposes. But then he though back to the night when they had found Randv’s body. All the way down to the Sacred Grove, Emmy had seemed keyed up, but excited, like a child setting out on an adventure. She had tried to persuade Betsy that she was going to the wrong cave and then there was the anguished outburst: “He can’t be dead!” Surely there was true shock and despair in that wail. Randy’s death had taken her by surprise. But it was no use expressing his doubts to D.C.I. Hughes at this stage. Hughes would want a better suspect before he’d let Emmy Court go.
The thunder crashed, louder than ever before. It went on and on, growing in intensity. It took a few moments for Evan to register that the noise wasn’t thunder, but someone banging on his door. He grabbed his dressing gown and ran downstairs.
Betsy was standing outside the front door, wearing her anorak and nightdress, exactly as she had that previous night. She stared at him with terrified eyes and then flung herself toward him.
“Betsy, what on earth is it?” Evan asked.
“I’m so scared and my dad’s passed out, as usual, and I’m so frightened that the murderer will come and get me.”
Evan took her inside and shut the door. “It’s all right. Calm down. You’re safe now.” He took the trembling girl into the kitchen and sat her down. “Look at you. You’re soaking wet.”
“I know. I didn’t want to stay in the house any longer,” she said. “I thought I could hear someone coming up the stairs so I just grabbed the first coat and ran.”
“Take that wet coat off. My cardigan is hanging on the hook in the hall,” he instructed. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.” He put the kettle on and Betsy came back, her hair still plastered to her forehead. She looked like a lost orphan in Evan’s oversized cardigan.
She came to stand beside him, holding out her hands to the flame under the kettle. “I’m chilled right through,” she said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“So tell me what happened,” Evan said. “What frightened you?”
“I had another dream,” Betsy said. “Only this one wasn’t clear like the other one. It was just that I knew someone was after me. It was someone in a cloak and hood and I couldn’t see the face but I knew it was the real murderer. Then I woke up and the storm was horrible and I thought I heard noises outside my door. I was so sure it was the murderer come to get me.”
Evan patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You just had a bad dream. Nobody’s after you.”
“But look what happened last time I had a bad dream. It all came true!”
Evan poured the boiling water into the pot. “Betsy, there’s something you should know. It might stop you from worrying like this—” He paused, wondering how to phrase what he was going to say. “Betsy, all that rubbish about psychic ability, that’s all it was—rubbish. The police are holding Emmy Court right now. It seems she planned a hoax with Randy Wunderlich. They worked together at this psychic hot line in America, you know. He was going to disappear and some unknown person was going to find him through a psychic connection. They picked you. They set you up. You didn’t have a psychic dream. You were hypnotized. Emmy Court put those images into your head.”
Betsy was staring at him, a bewildered look on her face. “You mean I’m not psychic at all? I don’t have powers?”
“I’m afraid not,” Evan said.
“You really mean I’m not psychic after all? They only pretended I had powers?”
Evan nodded. “It was a cruel trick to play.” But she did get the cave right, he thought. Was that just coincidence?
“But why did they do it?”
“Publicity, that’s all. They wanted to generate publicity for the Sacred Grove because it wasn’t going very well. They thought this kind of thing would capture the media’s attention.”
“That is so unfair.” Betsy’s voice cracked. “How could she do that? I thought she liked me. And I was so excited about my powers. I really believed I was special at last.”
“Look on the bright side of this,” Evan said. “The murderer has nothing to fear from you. You won’t be seeing his face in another psychic dream. You can’t give him away—or her away,” he added.
“Do they think that Emmy killed Randy?” Betsy asked. She picked up the mug of tea that Evan had poured for her and took a hesitant sip.
“They seem to. But that doesn’t mean that I do, Betsy. I really think you ought not to go to that place again.”
“But I want to. Even if I’m not psychic and they won’t be helping me to develop my powers after all. The people are nice to me, honestly. I really don’t feel I’m in danger there … except that …”
“What?”
“Something happened to me yesterday. I thought it was just a horrible accident—”
“What was it?”
“I got shut in the steam room by mistake. The steam came on and I couldn’t get out. I nearly passed out before Bethan and Michael came to rescue me. They said the door had stuck before and they didn’t seem at all worried. In fact, I get the feeling they thought I was being silly and hysterical.”
Evan looked at her sharply. “So who knew you were going to be in the steam room?”
“I’d just left Rhiannon, so she knew. But then anyone only had to look at the staff schedule to see that I was supposed to be cleaning the spa at that time. I almost didn’t make it to the spa. Rhiannon kept me doing other things. I had to rush.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t go back there, Betsy. Take that scare as a warning. If somebody does want to get rid of you, there are plenty of easy ways to do it at that place.”
“I’ll let them know about Emmy Court tomorrow and how she tricked me. It won’t be easy to admit that I’m just ordinary after all, but I’ll do it. When they hear that I’m not psychic, I’ll be safe, won’t I?”
“You’ll be safer if you don’t go back at all.”
“No. I’m being silly again. I’m sure that steam room thing was just an unlucky accident. Michael said the door had stuck before, didn’t he? And he was going to get it fixed right away. ‘Can you imagine how one of the guests would freak out if it happened to them?’ he said. He can be funny if he wants to, can’t he? A bit shy, of course, but sweet. And Bethan’s nice too. Those two will take care of me.”
She took another sip of tea. “And you say you don’t think that Emmy killed Randy. Then that’s all the more reason for me to keep on working at the center. I can be your eyes and ears for you, can’t I? I’ve always wanted to help you with your work. Maybe I can track down the killer for you and you’ll get all the credit for once.”
“Betsy, you’re something else.” He ruffled her w
et hair. “I’m going to get a towel to dry you off. You’re dripping like a wet dog.”
When he came back, Betsy was sitting on the chair, hugging her knees to her. She looked about twelve years old.
“Come here.” He flung the towel over her head.
“Ow,” she yelled playfully. “Let me out. You’re suffocating me!” She pushed the towel back from her face and looked up at him. One minute they were both laughing, the next she was somehow in his arms and he was kissing her. Her lips were icy but her mouth was warm and inviting.
“I’m sorry—” He broke away and stepped back from her. “I don’t know how that happened.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, still looking up at him adoringly. “I liked it. I’ve been waiting a long time for you to kiss me, Evan Evans.” She slipped her arms around him, pulling herself close to him again. “Hold me. I’m still so cold.”
He could feel her slender body shivering. He wrapped his arms around her. “You should never have come out in this storm, you dafty.”
“I know. I didn’t stop to think. I was in a real panic again. Don’t make me go home again tonight. I’m scared of going back there alone.”
As if on cue the room was lit with blue light and a great crash of thunder shook the house. Hail bounced off the pavement outside.
“No, I can’t send you home in this.” Evan hesitated. Part of his brain was whispering that this whole thing might have been one of Betsy’s famous schemes. But he could feel her body shivering against him. He glanced up the stairs. “All right. You can sleep in my bed. Come on.”
She allowed herself to be led up the stairs and scrambled into the bed, pulling the covers over her. “I’m still freezing,” she muttered.
“You’ll soon get warm. That Welsh quilt is terrific. Half a dozen sheep have been stuffed into that.” He grinned at her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m not rightly sure. I don’t have an armchair or a sofa yet.”
“Don’t go, Evan. Stay here with me. Come on, there’s room.”
Evan gave an embarrassed laugh. “Look, Betsy, I’m only human.”
“No, it will be all right, honestly.” She patted the bed beside her. “I just want to feel warm and safe.” She sat up, hugging the quilt to her. “I promise I’ll behave myself,” she said. “Honestly, Evan. I mean that.” She looked up at him, her big, blue eyes holding his. “Look, I know I’ve tried everything under the sun to get you to notice me, but now that I’m here and I could have what I wanted—I know you love someone else. It’s okay. I’m quite trustworthy. And if you really want to know and promise not to tell another soul in the whole world—I’m still a virgin. I’m not going to lead you astray.” She gave him a little smile.
Cautiously Evan climbed in beside her. He hoped that he was quite trustworthy too. He wasn’t at all sure of it. He was sure Betsy didn’t realize how many times he had thought about being with her and what it would be like. Now she was here and all he could think of was Bronwen.
“Goodnight, Betsy.” He leaned over and gave her a little kiss on her forehead.
He woke early to find himself alone in bed and wondered if he had dreamed the whole thing. Then the smell of frying came to his nostrils. He went downstairs to find Betsy in the kitchen, the tea already in the pot and eggs and bacon sizzling in the pan.
“Toast just popped up,” she called. “If you hurry up and butter it, the eggs are ready.”
He sat down to his best breakfast in weeks.
“I thought I’d better get going early, before too many people are about,” she said. “I don’t want to ruin your reputation.”
“What about yours?” Evan laughed.
“Me? Oh, they all think I’m a loose woman anyway. And what do I care? Let them think what they like.”
“Too late,” Evan said. There was a tap on his front door. He went to answer it.
“Oh, good, you’re up.” Bronwen breezed past him into the hallway. “I felt so much better this morning that I thought I’d come over and surprise you. Look, I’m walking again. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Oh, yes,” he managed to say. “That’s wonderful.”
“Do I smell bacon frying, on a workday?” she demanded. “Evan Evans, what about that healthy diet you were promising. When I’m not around to keep an eye on you, you go—”
She broke off. Through the half-open kitchen door she had just caught a glimpse of Betsy in her nightdress, standing with a frying pan in her hand, looking trapped and guilty.
“My God, you didn’t wait long, did you?” Bronwen demanded. “Did you think I wasn’t going to recover and you were going to hedge your bets?”
“Bronwen, wait. It’s not—”
“Did she spend the night here?”
“Yes, but—” He tried to grab her but she pushed him off and ran out of the house again.
“Bronwen, please—stop. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that at all …”
“Go away,” she shouted. “Go away and leave me alone. I never want to see you again.”
Without warning she teetered and collapsed to the ground.
The next moments passed as if in a nightmare. The ambulance seemed to arrive in no time at all. Evan watched the medics scoop Bronwen up and cart her off on a stretcher as if she were a piece of meat. He tried to go with them and was pushed back.
“Are you next of kin? Well, then ring the hospital later and they’ll let you know when you can see her.”
He stood there in his bare feet, in the street, watching it go, hearing the siren as it disappeared down the pass. He had only felt this bad once before in his life, and that was when he sat beside his father in the Swansea hospital and watched the life ebb out of him. The words of guilt screamed through his head: “You did that to her. It’s your fault.”
Chapter 22
It was still raining when Betsy arrived at the Sacred Grove. For the first time she had had to take public transportation and was out of breath after the long walk from the nearest bus stop. She had run all the way from the gate, not wanting to be late. Her heart was thumping as the electric security gate swung open—and it wasn’t just from running. She had tried to seem brave to Evan, but truly she was scared about coming here now. Yesterday’s incident in the steam room had unnerved her more than she cared to admit. The morning’s incident with Bronwen had unsettled her even more. She knew that she had done nothing wrong, but she couldn’t help blaming herself. She got the feeling that Evan blamed her too. What if something awful happened to Bronwen because of her? The stupid thing was that she had fantasized over and over about something happening to Bronwen and Evan turning to her for love and support instead. But now that something had happened to Bronwen she just felt sick and scared.
She reached the main house and went to hang up her coat in the cloakroom. Evan had made her promise that she’d not be caught anywhere alone again. “Stay in public areas and if you’re sent anywhere, get another girl to come with you,” he had instructed. If Evan was worried for her, then she should definitely be on her guard. She decided she’d go around with Bethan all day, just for safety.
“Where’s Bethan?” she asked as she went into the kitchen. Bethan usually cleared up after breakfast with her and the dining room looked like a disaster area.
“I don’t know,” Michael said. “She was looking for you a little while ago. I think she must have gone on down to the meditation center. Rhiannon wants you down there too, as soon as you can.” He leaned closer to her. “I’ll warn you that she’s in a bad mood. It’s raining on her bonfire and she had absolute confirmation from the universe that it would be fine tonight. But you’d better get on with clearing up in the dining room first. Chef’s in a bad mood this morning, too. Must be the weather. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
Bethan put down her bucket as she pushed open the main door of the health center. Rhiannon had them all in a tizzy today, because the big ceremony was tonight. She’d almost
snapped Bethan’s head off when she had tried to be helpful.
“Get your other tasks done and come back here as quickly as possible. I want you and Betsy together. We need to carry all this stuff across to the ceremony site and attempt to keep it dry. And tell the groundsman that I want him to find me dry wood too. The fire can’t be allowed to smolder. It must flame up instantly.”
Bethan thought it was a lot of fuss about nothing. She’d been to a ceremony before and thought they all looked pretty silly, dancing around the grove in their long robes, calling on the East and West and the spirits of animals. But she was afraid of Rhiannon. There was something about her, the way she looked at you, that made you not want to get on her bad side.
She decided to get her share of the spa cleaning done right away, then she wouldn’t get in trouble with Annabel. She paused and looked up at the main house. It wasn’t like Betsy to be late. And why did it have to be today, when Bethan really wanted to talk to her? She’d had a bad night last night, wondering who to tell—because Rebecca’s disappearance had been playing on her mind. At the time she hadn’t thought much about it. They’d told her Rebecca had gone and she’d accepted it. And when she had found Rebecca’s raincoat still hanging in the staff cloakroom, she hadn’t thought twice about that either. Rebecca was American, after all. They were all supposed to be rich. She probably didn’t care that she’d forgotten her raincoat. She’d just buy another one.
But now that Randy had died, things were different somehow. She remembered that it had been cold and rainy the night Rebecca had left. She began to wonder what had made Rebecca run off, leaving her raincoat behind. She had inquired, innocently, of Mrs. Roberts whether Rebecca ever wrote and asked them to forward her raincoat. Mrs. Roberts said she hadn’t heard a peep out of Rebecca since she left. So Bethan decided to do some snooping of her own.