Terror tightened her throat as her heart banged the rhythm of terror. The gloves he wore were thick enough she knew she couldn’t bite through them like she had the night at the petting barn. She wasn’t even sure she could actually scream with her throat closed off in such sheer panic.
She smelled him, a sour scent of sweat and determination. Tears blurred her vision as she attempted to fight against him, to somehow free herself from his viselike grip on her.
But she was afraid that in fighting too hard, she’d somehow hurt the baby, that somehow she’d twist too hard or do something that would force him to tighten his grip around her stomach so hard that he’d harm the little life inside her.
As if in a macabre dance without music, they whirled and turned together, closer and closer to the window, Catherine screaming against the glove, screaming from every pore of her body, but they were screams that nobody could hear.
Gray had been right. There was danger everywhere. There was no safe place when she was alone, and now it was too late. Help me, the words shouted inside her head. Please, somebody help me.
But there was nobody to hear her internal cries. Nobody was in her suite except her and the man tugging her closer and closer to the open window and he was far too strong for her to fight.
A faint knock sounded on the door. “Miss Catherine?”
Allison! Catherine wanted to scream to the young maid to run and get help. If Catherine didn’t answer would Allison assume she was already asleep and go away? If that happened then Catherine had no chance.
Frantic, mere inches from the open window where darkness yawned, Catherine kicked out a leg and managed to connect with her nightstand. The delicate lamp on the top of the table teetered and then crashed to the floor.
“Miss Catherine?” The door opened and Allison gasped. “No! Stop!” she screamed as she rushed the two in an obvious attempt to save Catherine.
The intruder released his hold on Catherine and Allison barreled toward him. The minute Catherine’s mouth was free, she screamed. She knew she screamed out loud, but it was as if she’d gone deaf and time stopped moving as the man clad all in black drew a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Allison’s chest just before he turned and disappeared out the window.
Allison slid to the floor and Catherine rushed to her side, but it was obvious she was already dead. Catherine screamed and screamed and even when she was aware of the sound of running footsteps coming toward the room, she kept screaming until her throat was raw and she could finally scream no more.
* * *
The screams echoed through every corner of the huge house and the horrible sound, coupled with the pounding of footsteps down the hallway jerked Gray off the bed and to his feet, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Something had happened.
Something bad.
He yanked open his door and nearly collided with Dylan in the hallway. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, but somebody said Cath was attacked,” Dylan said as he raced down the stairs. Gray’s heart skipped a thousand beats as he raced down the hallway behind Dylan.
Cath attacked? It appeared the entire household, family and staff were in motion, running toward Catherine’s suite. Gray barreled his way through in an attempt to reach the rooms. Before he could get inside, he heard the wail of one of the housemaids. “Oh, God, she’s dead...she’s dead.”
Gray’s blood chilled to arctic ice in his veins. No. No, it couldn’t be true. His heart stopped beating as he froze in place, momentarily unaware of the rush and cries of the people around him. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him and he reached out for the wall to steady himself.
He’d known she was in danger, but he’d never thought it would find her here, tucked away in her private suite. His heart pounded once again as emotion swelled up inside him. Dead? She couldn’t be dead. His brain refused to accept the possibility.
Once again he pushed and shoved through the people in front of him, needing to see her, desperate to somehow make things right even though his brain screamed that it was too late.
When he reached the door to the suite, he barreled ahead and in an instant his gaze took in the scene before him. Allison Murray lay on the floor beneath the open window, her eyes sightless as they stared up to the ceiling. A knife protruded from her chest, but there was little blood, indicating that the wound had been immediately fatal.
Although filled with horror for Allison, he nearly fell to his knees in relief when he saw Catherine. Mathilda had an arm wrapped around her shoulders as Catherine wept in low, deep sobs.
Outside in the hallway the crowd grew bigger, the chatter louder and yet nobody stepped up to take control. Gabby and Amanda pushed into the room, both of them gasping at the sight of Allison and then running to Catherine’s side.
“Mathilda, call the cops and then get everyone, staff and family included gathered in the great room,” Gray said, deciding somebody had to take control of the situation and it appeared it was going to be him.
“Come on, Cath. Come to my room and I’ll get you a robe,” Gabby said.
It was at that moment Gray noticed that Catherine was clad in a pink nightgown that clung to her full breasts and that she shivered uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide, vacant and indicated that she was probably on the verge of shock.
Mathilda left the room to do what Gray had asked and Amanda and Gabby led Catherine out of the room, as well. Even though there was no doubt in his mind that Allison was dead, Gray leaned over her and placed his fingers against her neck, seeking any kind of pulse that might give evidence of life. There was none.
He didn’t know all the details yet, but it was easy to discern that somebody had come in through the window and had attacked Catherine. Somehow Allison had gotten into the middle of the fight and had given her life to save the woman she served, the woman she’d loved.
As Mathilda herded the people in the hallway toward the great room, Gray remained in the doorway of the suite. He’d make sure that nobody went into the suite until the police arrived. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to contaminate what was now a murder scene.
He leaned against the doorjamb, closing his eyes and reliving the moment that he’d heard the dreadful words, “She’s dead.” Even now, his knees threatened to give out as he thought of poor dead Allison and the danger that had come far too close to Catherine.
Whoever wanted her was bold enough to invade the house. That scared the hell out of him. He turned to stare at the window. The screen was missing, probably thrown to the side on the ground someplace in the dark.
How had this happened? Had Catherine opened the window to get some fresh air? He seriously doubted it. The night air drifting into the room was uncomfortably cold. He couldn’t imagine her opening the window for any reason.
And that meant whoever had come in had opened it. The windows were always locked. Gray’s eyes narrowed as he considered all scenarios. His heart hardened when he kept landing at the same conclusion. Somebody from inside the house had to have unlocked the window to allow easy access for the person who was now not just a foiled kidnapper, but a cold-blooded murderer.
What he wanted to do was find Catherine, yank her into his arms to assure himself she was alive and well. He wanted to feel the strength of her heart beating against his own. But he knew her sisters would calm her and in any case that wasn’t his job.
It took twenty minutes for Chief of Police Harry Peters and a couple of his men to arrive on the scene. His presence was followed quickly by the medical examiner. Gray and Harry stood to the side of the room as the medical examiner did his thing and Harry’s men processed what they could before the removal of the body.
“You know what happened here?” Harry asked as the men all went about their business, photos flashing and notes taken.
“Not specifically. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Catherine, who was here when it all went down, but it’s obvious somebody tried to get in through that w
indow and Allison got in his way.” Gray’s stomach clenched tight. “It had to be an inside job. The windows on the ground level are always locked. Somebody had to have unlocked that window to allow the intruder access inside.”
Harry released the sigh of a tired man. Gray knew the new sheriff had his hands full cleaning up all the mess the former sheriff, Hank Drucker, had left behind. “So, you think the intended victim was Catherine?”
“Definitely.” Gray told Harry about the previous attack by the petting barn. “She’s pregnant, so I can only assume that somebody sees her as a perfect kidnap victim for a king’s ransom. I’ve had the housekeeper get everyone in the house, both staff and family into the great room so they can be questioned by you and your men.”
“That makes my job a little easier,” Harry said, and then added dryly, “but not by much.”
It took a little over an hour before Allison’s body was finally taken out of the room. As Harry’s men continued to work the room, seeking some sort of evidence that could be used to find the guilty, Harry and Gray went to the great room where ranch hands, kitchen help, maids and the family were all gathered.
Gray immediately spied Catherine, seated in a chair, clad in her nightgown and a dark blue robe. She looked shell-shocked, her eyes wandering around the room at a frantic pace.
Like a magnet she drew him to her with the need to ease some of the fear that darkened her lovely eyes, the need to stand next to her, to touch her shoulder, whether to reassure her or assure himself, he didn’t know.
As he placed his hand on her, she looked up, her eyes tear-filled. “You’re safe. You’re going to be all right,” he said softly.
She shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “He killed Allison. She tried to help me and he killed her.”
Gray realized the tears she shed were not of fear for herself, but rather grief for the young woman who had apparently rushed to her aid. He had no doubt that fear for herself would come later, after she’d processed and grieved Allison’s untimely and brutal death.
Harry Peters immediately took control of the room full of people. By simply raising his hands everyone fell silent. “I’d like to speak to Catherine and then my men are going to talk to each and every one of you so I’d appreciate it if you all sit tight.” Although he said the words politely there was enough steel in his voice for everyone to understand that nobody was to leave this room.
Harry walked over to where Catherine sat. “Is there someplace we can go to talk?”
“The employee’s dining room,” Gray replied. He had no intention of leaving Catherine alone with the chief of police or anyone else.
Minutes later the three of them settled at the huge table, Gray seated next to Catherine and Harry across the table from them.
“I noticed several of the ranch hands aren’t in the great room,” Gray said. “Some of them head into Dead at the end of the day for a little drinking. I imagine one by one they’ll be stumbling in sooner or later.”
Harry nodded and turned his attention to Catherine. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” he said.
She gave a curt nod of her head and snaked her fingers into her hair to twirl with anxiety. The action broke a piece of Gray’s heart and he reached over and stopped her, capturing her hand in his.
She held tight, as if needing any strength he could give her to get through whatever lay ahead. Slowly, she told Harry about taking her bath, then leaving the bathroom and immediately being grabbed from behind. Throughout her retelling, Gray’s blood turned cold.
Each and every word that Catherine said recounting what had occurred in her suite shot myriad emotions through him. Fear and anger battled inside him, along with the burning need to make sure that nothing like this ever happened to Catherine again.
When Harry had gotten what he needed from Catherine he left them alone and returned to the great room to begin questioning the whereabouts of every single person in the house at the time of the attack.
At that moment Stewie Runyon came in the back door and Gray rose from his chair. “Where the hell have you been?”
Stewie frowned. “Out for a walk before bed. Why? What’s the problem?”
“The problem is Catherine was attacked and Allison is dead,” Gray replied. “You’d better get to the great room. I’m sure the police are going to have plenty of questions to ask you.”
Stewie’s features gave away no expression as he left the employee kitchen. Gray stared after him, suspicion aroused but unconfirmed. He had a feeling Harry had his work cut out for him in firming up alibis for everyone who lived and worked for the Coltons.
Stewie probably wasn’t the only ranch hand who would provide a shaky, unsubstantiated alibi for the time of the attack. Lots of the ranch workers had final chores to do after dinner and before bedtime and those chores weren’t team efforts. They were mostly done alone after dark.
Then there were the men who drove into Dead for a few drinks and some interaction with people away from the ranch.
It would be the same with the household staff, there were nooks and crannies in this big mansion where maids went to take a breather, or where the kitchen staff escaped briefly from Agnes’s iron fist.
“Maybe we should go back into the great room,” Gray suggested as he sank back into the chair next to Catherine.
“Can’t we just stay here?” Her eyes were dark pools of agony. “The sheriff will come back in to get us if he needs us. I don’t want to go in there with everyone else. It’s possible that somebody in there killed Allison or was at least partly responsible for her death.”
Her full lips pressed tightly together in an expression that looked more like anger and less like pain. “Somebody unlocked my window. Somebody made it possible for that man to get inside my bedroom and try to kidnap me. You were right. There’s nobody I can trust here, nobody except my sisters.”
“And me,” Gray said firmly. Once again he grabbed her cold, trembling hand, but before he could say anything else to her, Amanda and Gabby came in, fluttering over Catherine with concern.
Gray released his hold on Catherine’s hand and stood, his chair immediately filled by Amanda. “Cath, you’ll stay in my suite with me,” she said. “You are not going to be left alone again.”
As the sisters offered their love and support, Gray drifted out of the room and into the great room, where a controlled chaos reigned.
It would take most of the night for the sheriff and his men to do their jobs, to finish processing the scene and interviewing everyone in the room. They’d have to do a check of the house to see who was missing and track down any employees who weren’t present.
Gray imagined it would be close to dawn before everyone finally settled down and the cops left, and there was no way he was going to bed until everything that could be done had been done.
Catherine would be safe for the night in Amanda’s room, but it was only a temporary solution to a long-term problem. Somehow before morning came, he needed to figure out the best way to keep her safe for as long as necessary.
Chapter 8
Catherine awoke to find herself alone in the bed. Amanda had left the suite near the crack of dawn, having received a call of a sick horse that needed tending.
A glance at the window let her know she’d certainly missed breakfast. The light drifting through the glass was pre-lunch. At least she didn’t have to worry about anyone coming through the window of this second-floor suite.
As she thought of the horror of the night before she fought against rising emotions...fear, disbelief and grief. If she hadn’t knocked over the lamp on her nightstand would Amanda have simply gone away? Would she be alive now? Why, when she had come into the room did she attack the man instead of screaming for help? Instead of running toward him she should have run away.
Catherine shoved these thoughts away. She couldn’t dwell on the crushing guilt she felt about Amanda. It was too late to change things now.
Somehow she had to put o
ne step in front of the other and move forward. She just wasn’t sure how she was going to do that. She got out of bed, definitely knowing she couldn’t move forward by sleeping the day away.
Noticing that Amanda had apparently gone to Catherine’s room and brought some of Catherine’s clothing in, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy long-sleeved blouse and then went into the bathroom for a shower.
As she stood beneath the water, the events of the night before played and replayed in her head. She wished she’d been able to tell Chief Peters something about the attacker, anything that might have pointed a finger to somebody in particular. But, like the night at the petting barn, she’d only gotten a vague impression of a strong, medium-built male clad in black.
She wondered if this was the same person who had tried to kidnap Cheyenne. Was her value as a pregnant Colton far greater than that of a six-month-old heir? She’d certainly rather have the target on her own back than on precious little Cheyenne’s, but more than anything she wished Harry Peters could find out who was behind these attempts and stop the danger to everyone.
She couldn’t think about what had happened the night before without thinking about Gray. He’d stood beside her, silently offering her his support throughout the entire ordeal. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers had calmed her, the familiar scent of him so near had eased some of the terror that had continued to rise and fall inside her until she’d finally fallen asleep with her sister by her side.
She got out of the shower, dried and dressed and then left Amanda’s suite to head for the dining room where, if her nose served her right, lunch would soon be served.
Lunch was always informal, served to whoever happened to be in the house at the time. Amanda was rarely in, nor was Gabby. Darla, Tawny and Trip never missed a meal and often Levi was in and out at the noon meal.
Thankfully, the dining room was empty when Catherine entered, but obviously Mathilda had been waiting for her presence. The housekeeper immediately appeared at Catherine’s side, her features tortured in dismay.
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