Angel in My Arms (42 page)

A friend.
It had to be one of Sally's friends who had
murdered her… one of Celeste's friends. Perhaps this friend had even
meant to kill Celeste and taken Sally's life when Celeste went to
Denver instead of home.

"Adam." Celeste touched her son's arm so that he would look up at her.

"Get your coat. We have to-—"

Silver's head popped up and he barked.

The echo of the bark was followed by a knock on the front door.

Celeste hurried to the door, hoping, praying it was Fox, who couldn't get in because he didn't have his key.

"Oh, Fox—" She threw open the door. Her hopes tumbled. "Joash…"

"Celeste." He nodded, his pale hands poised as if in prayer, as
usual. "I heard you came in on the train. I wanted to offer my
condolences. I know you cared a great deal for Sally. Mrs. Tuttle would
have come, too, but she was feeling poorly— tripped on the steps and
banged herself up. May I come in?"

Celeste stepped back to allow him inside the front foyer. This
wasn't the time for visitors; she had to get to the jail house. But
Joash…

Celeste grabbed his black frocked arm. "Joash. Could you do me a
favor?" She spoke quickly. The killer was still on the loose, and she
had to tell the sheriff what she knew. "Could you stay here with my
son?"

"Your son?" His black eyebrows shot up and his protruding Adam's apple bobbed. "You have a son? An illegitimate son!"

She glanced at Adam, who peeked around the doorway. "I'll explain
later, Joash," she said, facing him so Adam wouldn't know what she was
saying. "You can preach to me then. Right now, I just need you to sit
here with him and be sure he's safe."

She didn't give Joash time to reply as she smiled at Adam, turning
her head so that he could easily read her lips. "Adam, this is Reverend
Tuttle, and he's going to stay with you for a short time while I fetch
Fox."

Adam's lower lip quivered.
I don't want to stay here with him,
he signed with his hands.

"I need you to do this. You'll be fine. Joash is my friend."

"Please, Mama," he said aloud. "Please don't make me stay."

"Just trust me, Adam. You need to stay here." It tore at Celeste's
heart to see Adam upset like this, but she knew it was best if the boy
stayed safely inside with Joash. As Adam's mother, it was her
responsibility to see that he did what was best for him, not
necessarily what he wanted.
You'll be fine, Adam,
she signed.

She turned to Joash. "Adam has a little difficulty in hearing,
Reverend, but if you'll simply look at him when you speak, the two of
you will get along just fine." She grabbed for her cloak. "You'll be
fine here with the reverend, Adam."

She threw her cloak over her shoulders and went to kiss Adam. As she
did, Silver thrust his head under her hand and looked up expectantly.

"No, you stay here, Silver, and keep Adam company."

The dog followed her to the door and whined as she drew it open.
"Silver? What's gotten into you? I said, stay." She motioned to him,
but the dog followed her onto the porch. It was almost dark and there
was an unseasonably cold wind blowing out of the mountains.

"You've never been disobedient before," she mused aloud. Her first
impulse was to make the dog go back inside, but she stared at him for a
moment. Was he trying to tell her something with those big, brown dog
eyes of his?

She sighed. "Oh, all right. You can come." She glanced up at Adam in
the doorway with the reverend. "You'll be fine here with Joash." She
smiled. "All right?"

He nodded. She could tell he was trying to be brave.
God, she loved her son.

She waved to him. "Thank you, Joash," she called over her shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Celeste hurried up Plum Street with the dog on her heels. It was so
cold that she drew her hood over her head. She wished she'd worn her
hat with the long woolen black scarf that tied beneath her chin. It was
so cold.

She turned onto Peach, headed into town.

As Celeste walked, she noticed how desolate the street was. Of
course it was a weekend, and most of the miners were on their claims.
Those who lived in the boardinghouses were probably working the mines
or asleep in their beds, depending on which shift they worked. The
bitter cold and the snow flurries must have kept everyone else inside.

Celeste walked faster, spooked by the darkness and the cold and the
empty street. Something didn't feel right, but she didn't know what.
She looked behind her. No one was there. She could hear nothing but the
whistling wind, her footsteps, and the dog's nails scraping on the
wooden sidewalk.

She took another step forward, still glancing over her shoulder, and struck something hard. "Oh!" she cried and stumbled back.

Startled, Silver gave a yipe and trotted backward.

As she lifted her head, she gave a little laugh at her foolishness.
She'd been so busy looking behind her that she'd run into a rain barrel.

"Scare you too, boy?" She laid a shaky hand on Silver's back and
stroked the yellow dog. "You're quite the fierce mutt to be scared of
rain barrels."

They circumnavigated the barrel and walked on. Half a block ahead,
she could see the jail house lantern light spilling from its tiny
windows.

"Here we go. Almost—"

Someone stepped out of an alley directly in front of her so that she
collided with him. He was covered from head to toe in a heavy, black
hooded cloak.

Celeste's instinct was to run, but the specter took her unaware. She stopped so suddenly that she lost her balance.

Silver snarled.

Celeste opened her mouth to scream, but the cloaked figure was too
fast. He clamped a leather-gloved hand over her mouth. At the same
time, he yanked her into his arms by a handful of her cloak.

She kicked wildly and struggled to escape.

The hand covered her mouth and pinched her nose. She was suffocating…

No! No! No!
Celeste screamed in her head.
I won't let
you do this. After all these years, I've finally found happiness. You
won't take my son from me! You won't take my Fox.

Silver barked and snapped at the cloaked figure. He kicked the dog as he dragged Celeste into the alley.

She drew up her knee and kicked backward hard, hitting him in the shin.

Her attacker grunted, but didn't relinquish his iron grip.

Celeste was dizzy from lack of air. Her heart was pounding, her lungs exploding.

No! No! No!
She told herself.
He won't win! Not this time. Not with me.

So lightheaded that she was on the verge of fainting, Celeste drew
her energy and focused on escape. The attacker had her by her mouth and
her cloak. If she could slip out of the cloak…

She could hear the faceless killer panting as he struggled to subdue her.

Celeste threw her head forward and slammed it backward, taking him by surprise. He cried out with pain as she struck his face.

Celeste lifted her feet off the ground, forcing the attacker to hold
her entire weight. He dropped her and she rolled, pushing away, gasping
for air.

She screamed as she tumbled. From the corner of her eye, in the
shadowy darkness, she saw something fly through the air and hit the
attacker full in the chest.

Silver! It was Silver!

The shimmer of the steel blade the killer drew was unreal in the murky darkness.

"No!" Celeste screamed.

Silver gave a scream that was nearly human as the killer sank the knife into the dog's yellow chest.

Celeste scrambled to her feet. "Help!" she screamed. "Help!" Then
she added what she knew would bring results. "Fire! Fire on Peach!"

Because the killer blocked the alley to Peach, Celeste turned on her
heels to run the other way. She couldn't see or hear Silver. The
bastard had killed her dog.

"Fire! Fire!" Celeste screamed.

"Bitch! Whoring bitch!" the killer shouted after her in an unearthly voice. "She who sins must die! You must all die!"

Celeste could hear the pounding footsteps behind her, but she didn't look back. No time.

Celeste had nearly reached the end of the alley and Cherry Street when she felt an iron hand fall on her shoulder.

"No!" Celeste screamed as she spun around. She was so angry, so damned angry!

She shoved the killer backward, hard against the sideboards of the
building. She had no idea where her incredible strength came from.

The killer lashed at Celeste with his knife. She saw a slash of
light and then felt an agonizing burning in her arm. The killer's limbs
tangled with hers. Celeste kicked and swung her fists in rage.

"You won't do this to me!" she screamed.

She heard male voices approaching from down the alley in the direction of Peach Street.

"Help!" Celeste screamed. "Help. It's the killer! The killer!"

The sound of the running men startled the killer, and he released his hold on Celeste's hand, shoved her forward, and ran.

Someone seized Celeste's shoulder from behind and she screamed. How
could the killer have gotten behind her, even in the darkness?

She screamed again and whipped around to face him.

The hands clamped down on both her forearms.

"Celeste?"

"Fox? Fox?"

"Celeste." He shook her.

For a moment her eyes were unseeing. She still thought the killer had come for her in his faceless cloak.

"Celeste, it's me. It's Fox, sweetheart."

"He… he…" She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She pointed in the direction the killer had escaped.

Sheriff Tate and two deputies ran past them.

"That way!" Fox hollered. "Black cloak. Don't let him get away, boys."

"You all right?" Fox gripped her shoulders and forced her to focus on his face. "Celeste, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

She lifted her arm lamely. "A scratch, I think." Finally realizing
that she was alive and unhurt, she threw her arms around Fox. "Oh, God.
Fox. Fox."

He held her tightly. "It's all right," he crooned. "They're going to catch the bastard."

Gunshots cracked in the air, sounding almost unreal. One, two, three shots.

"We got him! We got him!" one of the deputies called.

Arm in arm, Fox and Celeste hurried out of the alley and on to the Cherry Street side.

In the center of the snowy street lay a black-cloaked figure, facedown and motionless.

"You stay here," Fox said. "I want to make sure he doesn't jump and run."

"No." Celeste grabbed his arm. "Don't leave me here. I want to see. I have to."

Sheriff Tate and the deputies surrounded the body and, weapons drawn, cautiously walked closer. Still the killer didn't move.

Tate gave the body a nudge with the toe of his boot. "I think he's dead, boys."

A butcher knife gleamed in the moonlight, still locked in the killer's hand.

Celeste stepped closer. "Who is it?" she whispered. She knew it was someone she knew well, but who? Ace? Titus?

Tate kept his pistol ready as he rolled the body over with his foot.
Obviously the sheriff wasn't taking any chances. He stared at the
killer. "Yeah, he's dead all right."

Tate reached down and drew back the hood of the black cloak. "I'll be damned," he murmured in obvious shock.

"Who?" The word was barely out of Celeste's mouth.

"The preacher's wife," Fox murmured.

"Mrs. Tuttle?" Celeste stared at the round German face and the tight
curls that framed it. Her eyes were mercifully closed. Her cloak had
fallen open to reveal a round red splotch of blood in the center of her
chest.

Celeste couldn't believe it, and yet she had no choice. There was
Mrs. Tuttle with the knife in her hand, Celeste's and Silver's blood on
the knife. To add to the evidence was what the preacher's wife had
shouted at her in the alley about sin. It had to be her. It was her all
along…

"Silver!" Celeste looked suddenly at Fox. "She stabbed Silver. I think he's dead, but I'm not sure."

Fox grabbed her arm. "Show me."

Hours later, Celeste lay stretched out on her white iron bed and
stared at the moon that shone through her window. Adam was asleep. The
doc had taken Silver home with him to stitch him up, saying there was a
good chance to save him. Joash was home in his musty parlor, where he
wanted to be alone with his wife's body. Poor Joash; he was devastated.

Fox walked into the dark bedroom. "Adam's fine. Sound asleep."

She rolled onto her back and sat up as Fox sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I can't believe Mrs. Tuttle was capable of such a thing."

He lifted one shoulder as he reached around her and caressed her hip
with his hand. "She was a big woman, so Tate thinks that's how she was
able to physically subdue the women." He smiled grimly."Apparently
Sally put up a hell of fight, because Mrs. Tuttle was bruised and
battered."

Celeste shook her head. "She told Joash she'd fallen and that was how she'd gotten the bruises."

"As for Mrs. Tuttle being mentally capable of such atrocities," Fox
continued, "someone as sick in the mind as she was can find
justification in anything."

Celeste arranged the folds of the flannel dressing robe she wore.
"I'm tired." She rested her head on Fox's shoulder, and he wrapped his
arm around her waist.

"How's your arm?"

She rubbed the place where Doc Smite had bandaged it. "Aches a little, but it's all right."

"Well, you best get some sleep, then." He drew aside one edge of her
dressing gown and kissed the swell of her bare breast. "Because you've
a wedding to go to tomorrow, and you want to look your freshest."

"A wedding?" She was so exhausted by emotion that she couldn't think clearly. "Who's getting married?"

He gazed into her eyes. "You." Then he kissed her gently on the mouth, a kiss that would seal their love for all of eternity.