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Authors: Candace Camp

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BOOK: Winterset
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Chapter Fifteen

“D
id you know Nick found Susan’s body?” Reed asked.

Anna shook her head. “No. I just talked to him the other day. I asked him about it, and he didn’t say a word!”

Her voice had gone up as she spoke, and Reed glanced across the counter toward the clerk who had retrieved the records for them. The man was watching them with unabashed interest. Anna drew a breath.

“Let’s finish this first.”

Reed nodded, and they resumed reading. Nick Perkins had given his testimony, and the coroner had stopped him from time to time to ask a question. Details rolled out about the time and place and position of the body, the manner in which he had found her and what he had done. Anna dutifully read it all, but she could scarcely think about what she was reading. It was a good thing Reed was there, as well, and jotting down notes from time to time. All she could think about was Nick Perkins and the fact that he had told her none of this.

“He never said anything!” Anna exploded when at last they finished reading through the inquest records for both murders and left the building.

“You specifically questioned him about the murders?” Reed asked, frowning.

“Yes. It occurred to me the other day that he had been alive when they happened, and that he was still in full possession of his faculties, so I went over there to talk to him about it. He seemed unusually closemouthed. I had a feeling that maybe he wasn’t telling me everything. But I never dreamed that he was hiding something like this.”

Anna could not understand it. She felt betrayed by someone whom she had regarded as a friend. “Why would he have lied to me—well, as good as lied?”

Reed cast her a sideways glance. “Do you think he knows more about the murders than he told the coroner?”

Anna looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think Perkins was involved in the killings?”

“No!” Anna gasped. Her hand went to her chest as if to cover her heart. “No, he couldn’t have been. Nick is a kind person. He—why, you’ve seen how he tended to that dog. He has been healing animals all his life.”

“Some people like animals much better than humans.”

“Well, he may feel that way. But he wouldn’t—he
couldn’t—
kill a person. Certainly not in such a terrible, cold-blooded way.”

“He discovered the body. That could be because he was the one who murdered her.”

“The twins and I discovered Frank Johnson’s body,” Anna reminded him.

“True. But you wouldn’t have concealed that fact years later—not when someone you liked and trusted asked you. When what you could tell them might help solve another set of murders.”

“Are you saying you think Nick could have killed Estelle? That’s absurd!”

“Why? Look, he is the only person I’ve seen so far who could have killed the first two and been able to kill two more people now. Even if he is almost eighty, he’s still quite sturdy. He could subdue a girl, don’t you think? Or even a young man, if he took him by surprise.”

Anna stared at him. “Surely you don’t believe this.”

Reed shrugged. “It’s possible. And the fact that he was not truthful with you when you asked him about the original murders makes me wonder.”

“He could not have been the man that Estelle was seeing,” Anna said flatly.

“No. I’m sure not. But we don’t know that her lover is the one who killed her. It may have been that the killer simply came across her as she was going to or from a meeting with her lover.”

“Then why hasn’t the lover come forward? Said something?”

“Because he is afraid that everyone will think he is the one who did it,” Reed replied.

“I don’t know why Nick didn’t tell me about finding the body. I—it hurts me that he didn’t. But that doesn’t mean that he killed anyone. Let’s just go to him tomorrow and ask him about it. Confront him with our knowledge and find out why he wouldn’t talk about it.”

Reed nodded. “All right. But we’re going to have to listen to what he says with an open mind.” He paused, then added, “You know, Anna, whoever committed the recent murders is likely to be someone you know.”

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 really 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.”

BOOK: Winterset
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