Never Sleep With Strangers (20 page)

Jon was instantly up and tying his robe.

“My God!” she breathed. “What—”

The sound came again, a howl of horror and fear.

“The dungeon!” Jon exclaimed.

Even as Sabrina scrambled for her nightgown and robe, he was hurrying swiftly out the door.

“Wait!” she cried, racing after him into the hallway. He'd taken a kerosene lamp from a fixture beneath an arch and was already moving down the stairs. She followed, trying to close the distance between them. The stone floors felt icy under her bare feet, but she knew she hadn't time to go back for shoes.

They were halfway down the stairs when a third bloodcurdling scream shrilled through the night.

And then…

There was the horrible sound of silence.

T
hayer was just ahead of them, running into the crypt as they arrived below.

They followed.

Racing, Sabrina blinked in the dim light. Then she nearly screamed herself.

Cassandra Stuart was not inside her tomb. She was atop it, in all her beauty and glory. She was feminine and elegant and even as a ghost, in death, looked amazingly well, sitting up on the stone sarcophagus that bore her name.

Someone crashed into Sabrina's back and screamed with instinctive, primal fear. Anna Lee, Sabrina noted vaguely, still too stunned to move or begin to comprehend what was happening in the depths of the ancient crypt.

Camy Clark, she now realized, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Sweet Jesus!” Sabrina heard someone gasp, and she saw that Reggie had come in now as well, clasping her heart.

“Dear God!” Joe Johnston had come running in as well, only to stop short at Reggie's side. He was followed by Joshua Valine, still tying the belt of his terry robe.

Joshua's jaw dropped, and a strange sound escaped him.

Joe Johnston spoke again, repeating, “Dear God, dear God!”

Then Cassandra muttered a terse “Shit!” as she saw Jon, furious rather than frightened, striding across the crypt to reach for her, grabbing her forcefully by the arm.

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?” he demanded with an anger that caused his voice to shake.

“Let go, please!” she cried out. “I'm sorry. Don't be angry. I didn't intend—”

“You must have intended for someone to have a heart attack!” Jon declared, lashing out.

Sabrina just stared, certain that the world had gone insane. Jon had just been telling her remorsefully how he had nearly gone mad wondering about his wife's death. And now here she was, flesh and blood, and he was yelling at her.

It nonsensically occurred to Sabrina that she had just committed adultery, which bothered her greatly, even if she was in a castle where it seemed that a group of rabid, insane people played musical beds.

“Look what you've done to Camy!” Jon thundered.

By that time, Thayer was down beside Jon's fallen secretary, checking for a pulse. Joshua hunched down on his knees in concern, as well.

“She's all right,” Thayer said. “Better than I am. I—I saw Cassandra dead, bleeding, three years ago,” he said in agitated confusion.

“Cassandra
is
dead!” Jon said irritably, and as he did so, he reached out to the ghost who had risen from Cassandra's coffin, wrenching at the woman's hair.

The long, flowing tresses came away. It was a wig. And then, even in the darkness, it became evident that the woman on the tomb was neither Cassandra nor Cassandra's ghost. It was Dianne Dorsey. Despite the eerie light and chilling surroundings, something that should have been evident for years but hadn't been became startlingly obvious. Dianne Dorsey bore a stunning resemblance to Cassandra Stuart.

“My God!” Anna Lee breathed.

“This is the cruelest, most vicious trick I've ever seen played,” Jon snarled angrily at the girl.

“I'm sorry, Jon, I'm sorry!” she cried. She looked at the group that had formed around her. Most of the household was there—Joe, Thayer, Joshua, Anna Lee, Reggie, Jon and Sabrina. The housekeeper and the two maids, with rooms in the attic, evidently hadn't heard Camy's screams, and V.J., Tom, Susan and Brett had apparently slept through them.

Camy, coming to, suddenly started screaming again. Sabrina knelt before her and the two men supporting her. “Camy, Camy!” she said, touching the woman's face. “It's all right. It's not a ghost. It's just Dianne, playing a trick.”

“It's not a trick!” Dianne protested. “All right, I suppose it was a trick, but I didn't mean to be vicious or cruel, I was just trying to find out which of you hated my mother enough to kill her!”

“Mother!” Joe grunted, sounding as if he was strangling.

Jon walked across the room to Camy and touched her hair. “You all right?” he asked gently.

Camy nodded. Sabrina stared up at him accusingly before rising and helping Camy to her feet. Jon stared back at her, but offered no apology.

“Mother?” Joe croaked again.

Anna Lee started to laugh. “Oh, this is really rich. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Jon said, striding back toward Dianne. His anger hadn't abated, but it seemed to be in check. “Cassie had Dianne when she was very young. And to Cassie, no matter how young she'd been, having a grown daughter was something she didn't want to admit publicly.”

“You knew—all along?” Joshua said, looking at Jon.

He nodded. “I thought you knew, too. I mean, I thought it would be obvious to you when you were doing their wax figures.” He shrugged. “Cassie and Dianne had both asked me not to say anything, for their own reasons, and I respected their desires. But Dianne, evidently, has changed her mind.”

He stood in front of Dianne, glaring at her.

“But…I thought you hated her!” Joe said to Dianne.

“I did,” Dianne said. Then she started to laugh. But as she laughed, tears began streaming down her face. “I hated her because her looks and youth and image were everything to her, far more important than I was. I wanted you all to think that I hated her because that was the only way you'd talk openly in front of me, say what you were really feeling or thinking. But she was my mother, and when she was with Jon, he made her realize that I was her child, and she took an interest in me, and in my work, and we were like conspirators, both of us preserving her image of youth and beauty. And she could be so horrible and mean, but she had times when she could be loving…and…and…it didn't matter, she was my mother, and one of you killed her!”

Jon slipped an arm around her. His anger gone, he held her tenderly. “You don't know that anyone killed her, Dianne. And dressing up like Cassie wasn't going to help you, honey. It just scared Camy half to death and could have put you into serious danger.”

She clung to him, suddenly looking extremely young, her makeup running, her eyes lustrous, the tough-girl image completely gone.

“If no one killed her, why would I be in danger?” Dianne whispered.

Jon was silent for a split second too long. “Because it's a dark and stormy night in a creaky old castle,” he told her lightly.

“And we have a full moon now, too,” Reggie said.

“Are you implying that we have werewolves about?” Joe murmured teasingly, also trying to lighten the mood.

It was a strange gathering. They'd gone through shock, terror, disbelief and anger. Now they were banding together in sympathy because it was all too painfully obvious that Dianne had been deeply hurt by her mother, and just when she had finally begun to receive the love she had craved, her mother had been snatched away. She looked like a lost child; she
was
a lost child.

“I think vampires like full moons, as well,” Sabrina offered.

“Especially when cats are leaping out of the bag,” Anna Lee murmured.

“I think there are probably a few more cats ready to do some leaping out,” Jon said sternly, staring from one to the other of them. “We'll meet tomorrow in the great hall and try to get to the bottom of all our little secrets, shall we?”

Anna Lee shrugged. “I've admitted mine.”

“You have?” Joe said.

“Never mind, for the moment,” Jon told him. “We'll get to all this in the morning, when everyone is present. We should get some sleep for what's left of the night.”

“I'm sorry, Jon,” Dianne said again, looking up at him. She still rested against his chest. His arm was supportively around her. “I suppose it wasn't a very smart trick. I just thought that someone might panic and shriek out the truth—that I couldn't be there, alive, because they'd killed me. It didn't happen. Maybe the right person isn't here. I'm sorry. I guess it really was dumb. Please don't be angry with me.”

“It was stupid and dangerous, and I am angry. I'm angry with myself, because I shouldn't have had you here this week,” he said.

“Are we all here to confess our secrets and find out the truth about Cassie?” Anna Lee asked.

“We're all here for charity—and to find out the truth about Cassie, if there is a truth to be discovered,” Jon said honestly. “I'm sure you all came for exactly the same reasons I arranged the Mystery Week.”

“Amen to that,” Joe muttered.

“I can't believe that V.J. is missing this!” Reggie said.

“V.J.” Anna Lee snorted. “It's Susan who's missing her big chance—thank God!”

“Well, she'll know the truth about everything soon enough.”

“Yes, the sins we know now and the sins we'll share tomorrow,” Thayer said dryly.

“There's really no help for it, is there?” Jon asked. “There's apparently a lot we need to get out in the open—if we don't want any more startling performances.”

“Susan will still be deadly,” Reggie warned.

Anna Lee smiled. “We'll see, won't we? Maybe we can all tie her up and gag her—or wall her into the castle. What do you say?”

“I say it's better when the truth is out,” Dianne said suddenly, passionately.

“Definitely,” Jon said.

“So why didn't you tell us all the truth about Dianne?” Thayer demanded of Jon.

“I asked him not—” Dianne began.

But Jon, apparently, wasn't about to have anyone fight his battles for him. “I already told you, it wasn't my truth to tell,” he said flatly. “Other than the obvious emotional reasons, Dianne wasn't certain that the truth wouldn't hurt her career now. She's worked very hard at her writing, and one of the reasons she hesitated about letting the truth be known after Cassie died was that she didn't want people thinking, belatedly and erroneously, that Cassie helped her write or helped her get a publisher or special considerations. Dianne has earned every accolade that has come her way. So I respect her decision.”

Dianne smiled up at him. “I know why she loved you so much,” she whispered softly.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Let's let Cassie rest in peace now, shall we?” he murmured. With his arm still around Dianne, he helped her stand and led her from the crypt. The others stared at one another for several seconds, then followed him out.

They mounted the first step of stairs as a group, and they were still together as they reached the second floor. There they said their exhausted good-nights and departed for their own rooms.

Sabrina stood in the hallway briefly, looking after Jon. He was still talking to Dianne, walking her to her room. He glanced back at her.

She turned and entered her own room, closing the door firmly behind her.

She wondered if he would come back to her, and she paced.

After half an hour, restless, she stepped into the hall and tried Brett's door. It opened, and as she looked in on him, she worried that she hadn't a way to lock it from the outside. Nothing really bad had happened; still, she wished she could make sure that he was locked in. He was sleeping, and she checked his breathing and his pulse. With his bedroom eyes closed for the night, he had a strange innocence. He looked absolutely cherubic.

She kissed his cheek and left him.

She walked back into her own room, still unhappy about leaving her ex-husband so defenseless. She closed her door, locked it, hesitated.

As she did so, a hand descended on her shoulder.

She spun around, almost screaming, but it was Jon. Once again, his marbled eyes were dark and dangerous—and very suspicious.

“Going back to the ex?” he inquired softly.

“You! You have your nerve lecturing me when—”

“I'm not lecturing. I'm asking. You were just with him, right?”

She gritted her teeth, hating his cool nonchalance and the piercing feel of his eyes.

Which still left her wanting him. Against her will.

“He's sound asleep. I was just worried about him.”

“Why?”

“I don't know exactly. You said we should all lock ourselves in. I can't lock his door.”

“Oh.” He looked at her for a moment, the released her, opened her door and stepped into the hall. She followed him and watched as he drew a key from his pocket and attended to Brett's door.

She stared at him, then tried the door. It was locked. With narrowed eyes, she stared at him again.

“It's a master key,” he told her.

“Because you're the master?”

“Of course.”

“Your castle, right? How could I forget.”

“I don't know. How could you?”

She turned and stepped back to her room. She entered it and started to close the door. He followed, closing and locking the door behind him.