Crimson Twilight (8 page)

Phoebe turned to look at her when she reached her door.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re worried about all of us.”

“There was a lot of wine flowing down there at the dinner table.”

But Phoebe looked at her with wide eyes.

“You don’t believe that the reverend’s death was an accident, do you?” she asked.

“Actually, we found out that he had a heart condition. That might have caused him to stumble. But we’ll know more when the M.E. makes his report,” Jane said.

But Phoebe still watched her. “That won’t make any difference to you, will it? You think that he was killed.”

Jane said, “The police seem to believe it was an accident.”

“Do you think we’re all in danger?”

“No,” Jane said.

That wasn’t a lie. Whoever the killer was, they were part of the castle crew. And the killer certainly wasn’t in danger.

Phoebe shook her head. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Of course,” Jane said.

She left Phoebe to descend the stairs to the second level.

Careful as she did so.

* * * *

Within another ten minutes, everyone was where they should be or on their way to their own homes. Sloan watched as Jane came down from the attic level, her hand firmly on the handrail of the far less elegant steps that led from the second floor to the attic. She joined him, Logan, and Kelsey on the second floor landing by their rooms.

“One of us will be up through the night. I’m taking first shift and Kelsey will be second. You two deserve to get some sleep or whatever tonight.”

“We’re fine,” Sloan assured him.

“We know that,” Kelsey said, grinning. “We just want you to know that we’re on the awake duty, or guard duty, or whatever you want to call it.”

Sloan started to protest but Jane caught his arm. “Just tell them thank you, Sloan.”

“Thank you,” Sloan said.

Jane dragged him into the room.

“I’m, uh, up for whatever you’re in the mood for,” he said.

But she walked away from him, leaving him in the entry and heading into the bedroom. She stood there for a while and then walked back out.

“She’s not here,” she said.

“No?”

She shook her head with disappointment. “I thought that she would be. I thought that tonight we’d see her.”

Sloan walked to her and took her gently into his arms. “Maybe she knows that we’re here. Maybe she knows why we came. And maybe she’s as good and sweet as history paints her. What she really wants is happiness for others.”

She’d felt warm in his arms. Warm, soft and plaint, trusting, so much a part of him that their heartbeats seemed the same. But then she stiffened and pulled away from him. He realized that she was looking out one of the windows. The drapes hadn’t been pulled closed. She walked to it and he followed closely behind her.

And he saw what she saw.

There was a man standing in the moonlight. He was by the caretaker’s cottage, looking up. He seemed to be in breeches and a blousy poet’s shirt. His hair was long, his thighs encased in boots.

“John McCawley,” Jane whispered.

Sloan had to agree.

The figure in the moonlight faded.

Jane turned into Sloan’s arms. “The past has something to do with this. I know it.”

“We should get some sleep,” he told her.

She nodded and headed into the bedroom. It was supposed to have been their wedding night. But he knew her. She was upset. The minister she’d brought to the castle had died here.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know,” he told her.

“I’ll be in bed,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

He let her go and walked over to the board Kelsey had set up that day, studying what she had written.
Who had something to gain from the death of a minister?

He went over the names.

Mrs. Avery, he thought. The distant relative. The woman who had allowed Jane to book the castle for the wedding.

He walked into the bedroom. Jane hadn’t even disrobed. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed, sound asleep. He laid down beside her and drew her into his arms. He held her as his mind whirled until he managed to sleep himself.

And then—

He woke.

He didn’t know why. It was almost as if someone had shaken him awake.

But there was no one there.

Curious, he rose and walked back out to the foyer, then opened the door to the hall. Logan was opening the door to his room at the same time. Sloan looked down the other way. Someone was approaching Emil Roth’s room in the darkness.

“Hey!” Sloan shouted.

The figure paused and turned to him. He could make out little of the person in the darkness. Whoever it was had bundled up in black pants, a black hoodie, and what even seemed to be a black cape of some kind. In the pale glow of the castle’s night-lights, something gleamed.

A knife?

“Stop,” Sloan demanded.

He stepped from his room, listening in the back of his mind for his door to close, for the lock to catch. He wasn’t leaving Jane alone without a locked door. For a few seconds the figure stared at him and he stared back.

“Stop!” Sloan ordered again.

The figure began to run down the stairs at a breakneck speed.

Sloan raced after the person, Logan at his heels.

Chapter 6

Jane awoke to the sound of Sloan’s voice, disturbed, aware she needed to be up. But she felt a soft touch on her cheek. Not the touch of a lover, rather the brush of gentle fingers that a mother, a sister, or a caring friend might give. For a moment she lay still, her Glock on the bedside table. If there was someone there, no matter how lightly they touched her—

She opened her eyes.

And saw Elizabeth Roth.

The ghost looked at her with sorrow and grave concern. And then, when she realized that Jane was awake, she vanished.

“No!” Jane said. “Please, help us. Don’t go!”

But there were more shouts in the hallway and the apparition disappeared in a matter of seconds, fading from Jane’s sight. Jane bolted up, grabbed her gun, and headed into the hall.

It was empty.

She cautiously moved out of the bridal suite. She backed her way to the door to Kelsey and Logan’s suite and ducked her head in. Neither was there. Almost running, she made her way to Emil Roth’s suite. The outer door was open. Taking every precaution, she pushed the door inward and made her way into the room. Like the bridal suite, it had an outer foyer area with a grouping of chairs and a wet bar. Roth family plaques adorned the walls along with prints of medieval paintings. She made her way through to the bedroom, pushed the door open, and quickly flicked on the light, hoping to first blind anyone who might have attacked Emil in the night, or who might be lingering in the room.

To her astonishment, Emil Roth was there.

And he wasn’t alone.

She was awkwardly greeted by the sight of flesh. Way more of Emil Roth’s pale body than she had ever wanted to see and a pair of massive, gleaming breasts. Way too much of a skinny derrière. Emil’s flesh, a woman’s flesh—sweaty, writhing flesh—writhing until she turned the light on and they both stopped moving like deer suddenly blinded by headlights.

The woman screamed.

Emil Roth roared. “What the hell?”

Jane instantly turned the light off. “Sorry—sorry! Your door to the hallway was open. I was afraid that someone was hurting you.”

She heard the tinkle of the woman’s laughter. And then, in the darkness, she realized she knew who the woman was.

Scully Adair.

“I wasn’t hurting anyone, I swear!” Scully said. “But, please, don’t say anything! Please, don’t say anything to Mrs. Avery. I’ll wind up fired—”

Scully started to rise.

Jane lifted a hand to her. “I won’t say a word, I swear it. Please don’t get up on my account. I won’t tell Mrs. Avery a thing.”

“Hey, now, I own the place,” Emil said.

“Whatever!” Jane told them. “I will not say a word. It’s between you all. Forgive me. Sorry, I’m out of here. Pretend I was never here. Just do what you were doing, I mean, um, you just might want to lock your door.”

She flew back out of the room, shaking, slamming the door in her wake. The locks were automatic, she reminded herself. They’d been warned about that—step outside and it would catch behind you. For a moment, she leaned against the closed door. Visions stuck in her head that she prayed she could quickly clear.

She gave herself a mental shake.

If Emil Roth was fine, what was going on? Where the hell was Sloan? Where were Kelsey and Logan? She hurried to the stairway and gripped the banister tightly, looking behind and around her as she started down the stairs to the castle’s foyer. Still, she saw no one. The giant double front doors to the castle were ajar. She walked outside. A moon rode high, the air was still, and a low fog lay gentle on the ground. There was a night-light coming from Mr. Green’s cottage and a slightly lower light emitted from the guardhouse where Mrs. Avery was supposed to be sleeping. She wasn’t sure why, but she walked the distance around the grounds, on alert, ever ready to be surprised by someone lurking in the night or watching and waiting. But no one accosted her. Instead, she felt as if she was being beckoned toward the chapel. She wasn’t afraid of the dead. The dead had helped her many times. She made her way through the gate at the low stone wall that surrounded the chapel. She was afraid of the living. They were dangerous, in her mind.

But no one jumped up or slunk around from a gravestone or a tomb.

She reached the chapel door and pushed it inward. Someone was sitting in a pew, looking at the altar.

He rose.

She looked at John McCawley, tragically killed in a hunting accident the eve of his wedding.

He looked at her a long moment. “You see me? You see me clearly?”

“I do,” she told him.

He seemed incredulous, then he smiled, and she saw that he had been a truly handsome young man with a grace about him. “Forgive me. I see people pointing into the woods and saying that they see me when I’m standing next to them. And the ghost hunters! Lord save us all. A twig snaps and they scream, ‘What was that, oh my God!’”

“There are several of us here who see the—” She paused. She wasn’t sure why, but saying “dead” seemed very rude. “Who see those who have gone before us.”

“Really? Amazing and wonderful. I heard one of the maids whispering about it today. You do look like my love, like my Elizabeth. Are you a descendant?”

“I’m really not. I’m sorry,” she told him.

“Ah, well, no matter.” He studied her anxiously. “If you see Elizabeth—I know she’s here. I see her at the window. But you—you with this gift of yours, if you see her, tell her that I love her. I wait for her. I’ll never leave her. I love her in death as I loved her in life.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Jane asked.

He shook his head. “It’s as if I can’t breach the castle. I try to enter. I don’t know why. The family arranged the wedding, but they didn’t want us together. There were a number of us out that day—Emil Roth, father and son, among them. I watched the blood flow from me, but I never knew who’d done the deed. And yet, I prayed that my love would go on—that Elizabeth would rally and find happiness. She loved me, but she wasn’t weak. She should have lived a long life and she should have found happiness. But she did not. I’ll never leave her now. I will watch her at the window for eternity.”

“I’ll tell her,” Jane said. “But there is a way—there is always a way. We’ll figure it out, and you two may tell each other everything you wish to say.”

As she spoke, she heard her name cried out loudly and with anguish.

Sloan!

“Here!” she cried. “I’m in the chapel.”

A moment later, the door burst in and Sloan rushed to her, sweeping her into his arms. He was oblivious to the ghost, oblivious to everything but her.

He shook as he held her.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m fine. Where have you been? Where are Kelsey and Logan?”

“Right behind me. There was someone about to break into Emil Roth’s room. We all chased whoever it was down the stairs and out into the yard, but they disappeared as if into thin air,” Sloan said with disgust. “I went back to the room and then I banged on Roth’s door and—Roth is sleeping with his help.”

“I know,” Jane said.

Logan came striding in, followed by Kelsey. “There you are,” Kelsey said, pushing Sloan aside to give Jane a hug. “We were worried sick.”

Jane told them, “Hey! You guys left me.”

“We were chasing a mysterious figure,” Logan explained.

“The door locked, right, when I left?” Sloan asked, worried.

She nodded. “I just came out looking for you.” She frowned. “Hey—now, we’re all out here and Emil Roth is back in his room.”

They turned as if they were one and went racing back to the castle.

They weren’t careful then as they raced up the stairs.

At the door to Emil Roth’s suite, they suddenly paused. “Whatever he’s doing, we have to interrupt him. We’re trying to keep him alive,” Sloan said.

Logan nodded and banged on the door. Emil Roth, dressed in a silk robe, opened the door. Seeing them, he groaned. “You all again.”

“Mr. Roth, someone was sneaking toward your door in the middle of the night. I believe they meant to cause you some harm,” Sloan told them.

“It was me,” said a squeaky, apologetic voice. Scully Adair, clad in an oversized shirt, her hair still in disarray, walked slowly out of the bedroom. She gave them a little wave. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jane shook her head—trying to dispel unwanted images that rose before her mind’s eye. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re both adults.”

“But, Scully, it wasn’t you,” Sloan said. “It was someone wearing black, evidently sneaking around, who was headed toward Emil’s door. We chased them, and whoever it was disappeared right outside the front door.”

“Why would anyone want to hurt me? To most of the world, I’m worthless,” Emil said dryly.

“You’re not worthless!” Scully said passionately.

“You seem to be a fine enough young man, sincerely,” Jane told him.