by Candace Camp
She cast him a glance, then sighed. “I know. Obviously it has to be someone who knows about the earlier murders. I have wondered…”
He glanced at her when she hesitated. “Wondered what?”
Anna cast him a shamefaced look. “I feel a traitor to even think it, let alone say it.”
They had reached the inn. There was a bench outside it, and Anna sat down. Reed followed.
“What are you thinking?”
“I have wondered about…Dr. Felton.” Anna looked at him to see his reaction to the news.
A little to her surprise, he nodded. “I have, too.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “I keep thinking I’m being foolish. The man is a doctor, dedicated to saving lives. How could he kill anyone?”
“Yes, but he would not be the first doctor to take a life,” Reed pointed out. “And he, above anyone else, knows all about the earlier murders.”
Anna nodded. “They have long been an area of fascination for him. That and anything to do with the Beast. That is why his patient gave him all those clippings she had collected—she knew he was interested in the subject.”
“Even before his father died and left him the journals?”
“I think so. His father died about ten years ago. Of course, he could have talked about the murders with Dr. Felton.”
“So he was interested in the killings. He found out everything he could about them.”
“In all fairness, so have we,” Anna pointed out.
“True. Many people are fascinated by unsolved murders. It’s human nature, I suppose. But what if his interest went beyond curiosity? What if it turned into obsession? He could have studied those journals, thought about what instrument was used. What if he decided to try out an instrument to see if it would work? He knew all the details—where the victims were found, the type of wounds….”
“Yes, I know,” Anna agreed. “That is why my mind keeps coming back to him. But still, I cannot bring myself to believe it. I’ve known him all my life. I have never seen any violence in the man. And why would he attack Kit? That doesn’t fit with the other murders. There were only two the first time.”
“Maybe he liked it. Maybe he could not stop.”
“But Kit had just been at his house. How could he have gotten to that spot to waylay Kit before Kit got there?”
“Perhaps he followed him. Didn’t he say that Kit was the last to leave?”
Anna nodded. “But if he followed Kit, Kit would have heard him. He would have turned around and seen him. Why would he risk that?”
“He planned to kill Kit, so Kit would not have been alive to testify against him.”
“Then it would certainly be his good luck—whoever he is—that Kit can’t seem to remember what happened,” Anna mused.
“Yes,” Reed agreed. “And I would say that places Kit in danger still. The attacker cannot be sure that Kit will not remember.”
“The other night, I thought—I thought I saw someone outside our house. In the trees.”
“What!” Reed’s head snapped around and he stared at her in consternation. “The killer was lurking outside your house?”
“I don’t know that it was the killer. It was dark, and he was under the trees. I—I keep thinking perhaps it was only a shadow, and my imagination was overactive.”
“Good God. We must do something. You aren’t safe there. You and Kit should move into Winterset.”
“How would we be any safer there?” Anna protested. “Holcomb Manor is smaller, with fewer doors and windows where an intruder could enter. I alerted the servants, and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. And Thompkins has been sleeping across Kit’s door on a cot.”
“It isn’t Kit I am worried about. It is you!” Reed responded, scowling.
“But no one has tried to kill me,” Anna said.
“That doesn’t mean he won’t. What is to keep him from seizing the opportunity to do away with both of you?”
“But why?”
“Why does he do anything? I don’t know. Whoever we are dealing with has some twisted sort of logic of his own that you and I cannot hope to understand. He might think killing two people at once would be a special sort of thrill. An accomplishment. He might not have any intention of killing you at all, but what if you were to wake up and see him sneaking into or out of the house? He would kill you just to get rid of a witness.”
“There is nothing to say any of that will happen,” Anna pointed out.
“Perhaps not, but I don’t want to take the risk.” Reed took her hand, holding it between both his own. “My God, Anna, if he hurt you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
The honesty, the raw need, in his voice touched Anna on some deep, primitive level. She looked into his eyes, and she saw the heat of anger and fear changing, turning into a different sort of heat. Her own blood warmed in response. She curled her fingers around his. His head lowered, drew closer to hers. She looked into his eyes, turned smoky by the subtle lowering of his thick black lashes, and she felt the curl of desire deep within her abdomen. He wanted her, just as she wanted him, and Anna knew that she need only raise her lips to his to send their desire spiraling out of control. There was an inn behind them; it would be easy to get a room. No one would wonder if they returned to the Manor a little bit late.
It took all her willpower to turn her head aside, breaking the contact of their eyes. “I—it’s getting late. We had better return.”
She felt the stiffening of his body, could almost hear the gritting of his teeth. But he said only, “Yes, of course.”
It was a long ride home, and they did not speak much. If Anna had hoped that during the course of it, Reed had forgotten about his worries over her safety, such hopes were dashed when he insisted on going into the house with her to see Kit.
They found her brother in his study. He was seated at his desk, a pile of papers in front of him, but he was not working, only staring off into space. He looked up, startled, when they came in, then gave a sheepish grin.
“Come in. You’ve caught me woolgathering.”
“You are entitled to, after that crack on the head you received,” Reed commented.
“I still don’t remember getting hit,” Kit commented. “But I have remembered the time before that, though.”
“You have?” Anna and Reed drew closer, sitting down in the chairs across from her brother’s desk.
“Yes. I remember playing cards at Dr. Felton’s house,” he said. “I had a couple of whiskies, and I lost a little money. Then I remember taking my leave of Martin and starting out for home. But I don’t remember even reaching the lane where you found me. The strangest thing…I felt so sleepy.”
“What?” Reed leaned closer, his eyes sharp. “What was strange about it? It was late.”
“Yes, but I was terribly sleepy. Not like I am normally at bedtime. It was as if I could barely stay awake. I remember having to struggle to keep my eyes open. It was a good thing Nestor knew the way home, or God knows where I might have ended up.”
Reed and Anna glanced at each other, then back at Kit.
“No wonder you don’t remember being hit,” Reed commented. “You were drugged.”
“Drugged!” Kit raised his brows. “No, surely…”
“You just said you had only a couple of whiskies. That is what Dr. Felton said, too. So you weren’t so inebriated you couldn’t stay awake.”
“No.”
“Yet you said that you were unusually sleepy. So sleepy you could barely keep your eyes open. Perhaps you don’t remember the blow because you simply lost consciousness and fell from your horse.”
“Of course!” Anna agreed. “The killer wouldn’t have had to worry about Kit’s recognizing him—or about his fighting back. He would simply have waited until Kit passed out, then moved in. Either Kit hit his head when he fell, or the killer hit him just to make sure he wouldn’t wake up.”
Kit stared at them in astonishment. “You’re serious. You re
ally think the killer is after me?”
“I told you. I saw someone bending over you!” Anna exclaimed. “If Cooper and I had not come up, I don’t know what would have happened to you. Don’t you believe me?”
“Yes, yes, of course I do. It’s just—I can’t quite take it in. I kept thinking that somehow you must have been mistaken. This is—it’s just so bizarre.”
“I know it must seem so,” Reed told him. “But you have to believe it. You have to take precautions—not only for your own sake, but for Anna’s, as well.”
“Anna! My God, do you think he will try to hurt her, too?” Kit looked at his sister, clearly horrified. “Why would anyone be doing this?”
“We don’t know, but we cannot afford to be lax or complacent,” Reed said firmly. “I told Anna that I want the two of you to come to Winterset.”
“Oh, no. We could not do that,” Kit told him.
“She said the same thing—and pointed out that Holcomb Manor is smaller and more easily defensible. So I think you should set up a nightwatch. Have two or three of your best servants take it in turns.”
Kit nodded, and Anna agreed. “We will. It’s the sensible thing to do.”
“I want to send a couple of my servants over here, as well,” Reed went on. “To keep watch on the outside of the house.”
“See here, Moreland,” Kit said, looking offended. “I am able to take care of my sister myself.”
“I am sure you are,” Reed countered. “But it would set my mind at ease to know that you have extra help. And there is no harm in their being here. I would tell them, of course, to answer to you while they were here.”
Unexpectedly, it was Anna who said, “Yes, of course. This is scarcely a time to stand on pride, Kit. You have already been attacked once. I say we should guard the house as fully as possible.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” Kit agreed. “Thank you.” He inclined his head toward Reed.
Reed turned toward Anna. “This makes it seem more likely that the doctor is the killer.”
“What!” Kit exclaimed. “Are you saying that you suspect Martin? But that’s absurd!”
“I know. I find it very hard to believe,” Anna told him. “I am sure that in the end it will turn out that he is not, but we have to consider all the evidence.”
Reed explained their reasoning regarding the doctor’s knowledge of the first killings, then added, “It seemed unlikely, however, that he could have followed you that closely or gotten there ahead of you the other night. But this puts a whole new light on the matter.”
“He is a doctor, so he would have something readily at hand to put in your drink to make you sleepy,” Anna reasoned. “Then, knowing that you would lose consciousness on the ride home, he would not need to hurry. He needed only to follow you a few minutes later and find you lying in the road.”
“No,” Kit said firmly. “I cannot believe that it is Dr. Felton.”
“I think it is safe to assume that if Sir Christopher was indeed given something to render him unconscious, it was most likely done at the card game,” Reed said. “We can all agree on that, can’t we?”
Anna nodded, and Kit, after a moment’s thought, said, “Yes. Although I cannot imagine that it was any of the others, either. Mr. Norton was there, along with the squire and his son. And last night Mr. Barbush joined us.”
“Who?” Reed asked.
“He’s an older gentleman,” Anna told him. “A confirmed bachelor. He has a small competence, and he retired here, oh, six or seven years ago. I believe he was at Lady Kyria’s party.”
“Maroon waistcoat,” Kit described succinctly.
“Ah, yes, I remember. What do we know about him?” Reed frowned. “When you say ‘older,’ do you mean he would have been alive at the time of the first murders?”
Anna shrugged. “Alive, probably, but I would think no more than a child.”
“I don’t know much about his life,” Kit mused. “He used to live in London, I believe, for he often talks about the City. ‘When I was living in the City…’” Kit assumed a rather pompous voice. “I think he once said his cousin was a baron. I rarely see him except when he comes to Felton’s card games.” He paused, frowning. “You know, it doesn’t have to have been one of the people playing cards. It could have been one of the servants. Or another person entirely could have slipped in sometime and put something in the whiskey. We meet there every week for our games. Everyone knows about it. And there are always all sorts of patients in and out of Felton’s house.”
“I suppose we cannot rule out an outsider,” Reed agreed. “Certainly a servant could have slipped something into your drink or food. Who was serving you?”
“A maid brought in the food,” Kit said. “I don’t remember what she looked like. I believe the doctor poured the drinks himself.” He paused and looked at Anna and Reed. “That doesn’t mean he put anything in them. And,” he added, “we don’t even know that anything was put into my drink or food at his house. It could have happened earlier. Perhaps the potion took a long time to work. Or perhaps I just got sleepy, so I didn’t notice when someone sneaked up behind me and knocked me on the head.”
“You are right. We don’t know. Doubtless there are others who know about sleeping drafts besides the doctor.” Reed glanced toward Anna, and she knew that his thoughts had turned toward Nick Perkins, who certainly knew a great deal about all sorts of remedies. But she could conceive even less of his committing these crimes than she could Dr. Felton.
“It must be someone else,” she said, half to herself.
“I think it’s worth checking into the others,” Reed agreed. “I’ll have my man in London look into this Mr. Barbush. If he did indeed live there, my man will be able to learn of his past. I think I’ll have a talk with the constable, too, to see what information he may have been able to find out about the murders.”
They talked for a few more minutes before Reed took his leave. Anna and Kit ate their dinner in a subdued silence, having little to say about anything other than their recent conversation and having no desire to talk about that in front of the servants.
Kit made arrangements with the butler for two of the footmen to take watch that night. Kit himself volunteered to take the first one. Anna went up to her room early. She tried mending a few things, then reading, but she could not concentrate on anything, for her thoughts kept straying to the murders, going over and over the same paths. Finally she gave up the effort and got ready for bed.
Before she got into bed, she peered out through the drapes. There was no sign of the ominous visitor she had spotted the other night. Looking closer to the house, she saw a man standing just beyond the side door, smoking a pipe as he looked around him. He was one of Reed’s servants, she supposed.
They were as safe as they could make themselves, she reminded herself, but it did little to calm her jittery nerves. When she lay down, it took a long time to fall asleep, and her dreams were troubled. She awoke twice, once with her heart pounding and a vague memory of being chased by a looming, faceless form, and the other time with her loins warm and heavy and Reed’s name upon her lips.
She rolled over with a groan, wishing the empty ache between her legs would cease. Was this the way the rest of her life would be—always wanting, never having? It had been better before Reed came back, she told herself. She had been resigned to her life—content, really—the heartbreak and yearning years in the past. Now every day brought anew the knowledge of just how much she had given up, a fresh reminder of how much she wanted him.
Yet she could not wish that Reed would leave. No matter how much she ached when she was with him, still she wanted him there.
She rode over to Winterset the following morning after breakfast, with one of the grooms riding with her. She chafed at the restriction, but she was not foolish enough to ride out without escort. As she had told Kit, it was only sensible to take precautions.
The butler led her to the drawing room, and a moment later
Reed entered. They had planned to visit Nick Perkins that morning, but Anna had had another idea.
“I have been thinking about what we were talking about yesterday—about trying to use my ‘gift’ or ‘curse,’ whatever you call it, to discover more about the murders. I want to try it this morning.”
“Now? Here?”
Anna nodded. “I thought I could try sitting down somewhere and opening up my mind to it, encouraging such thoughts. I—I would feel better if you were with me. I’m sorry, but it’s a little frightening.”
“Of course it is. I am not at all sure you should even try it,” Reed said, his brow knitting in concern.
“I think I have to. We must try everything we can.”
“All right. Well, shall we try it here?”
They looked around the elegant room, decorated in heavy mahogany furniture, the blue velvet cushions faded from time. It scarcely seemed the place to try something so odd, but, then, Anna did not suppose anywhere would seem really suitable for such an experiment.
She sat down in a chair, and Reed took a seat on the couch that lay at right angles to her. Anna settled back into the chair, holding her hands loosely in her lap, and closed her eyes. She felt extremely foolish.
She tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. It was difficult to do, knowing that Reed was sitting only a foot away from her. She thought of Estelle, instead, remembering the day when she had seen her sneaking in the back door at the Manor. She remembered the guilty look on Estelle’s face, the fear that Mrs. Michaels would discover her, and the saucy, grateful smile she had tossed at Anna when she did not give her away.
Nothing came to Anna’s mind. No feeling struck her. She tried instead to remember the way she had felt in the woods the day she met the twins, but while she could recall the feelings she had had, she could not feel them flooding her again. She sighed and opened her eyes. Reed was watching her. She shook her head.
“Nothing. I’ll try again.”