Never Sleep With Strangers (30 page)

“Reggie!” V.J. shrieked, dropping down beside her.

By then, the others had come hurrying in.

“Oh, God, she's dead,” Joe said.

“Was she cut? Shot? What?” Thayer queried.

“No…I think it was her heart,” Jon said. He still knelt by her. “Reggie, Reggie…” The emotion he had borne the writer was evident in his voice as he leaned over her again.

“She's dead, oh, God,” Dianne breathed.

V.J. looked at Jon. “CPR,” she said.

He shrugged. Reggie was dead. But…V.J. bent over Reggie's face, counting, giving her oxygen, while Jon worked her heart. Suddenly, there was a strange look in his eyes. “Wait…I think…oh, God, there's a pulse. Faint as hell, but she may be breathing. V.J.! Damn! She may just be breathing!”

“We've got to be talking serious brain damage here,” Dianne said. “Maybe we should just—” She broke off, because V.J. was glaring at her. “Just let her go,” Dianne finished very softly.

“She may pull out of this,” V.J. insisted.

“What?” Tom exclaimed.

“She may only be in a coma. She may be in shock.” V.J. said impatiently. “If we can just keep her warm…”

“Let's get her upstairs,” Jon said.

He lifted Reggie as if she were a small child. He carried her up both flights of stairs to her room and laid her gently on the bed. V.J. adjusted pillows, took off her slippers, began chafing her hands. Jon covered her in blankets. He hovered over her.

By then, Camy and Anna Lee had both come from their rooms to see what had happened.

“What's going on?” Camy asked.

“Reggie…” Joe began.

“Reggie's dead!” Anna Lee announced.

“No…just mostly dead,” Brett said with a sigh.

“I'm going to have to go down to the village, get help up here now,” Jon murmured. “It's her only chance. V.J.—you'll stay with Reggie?”

“Of course.”

“But not alone. Three people with her at all times,” Jon said.

“I'll take first shift,” Dianne offered.

“Just keep three people with her at all times. And the rest of you, lock yourselves in or hang together.”

“Jon, I can come with you,” Joshua told him.

“No, I'll go faster alone,” he insisted.

He turned, leaving the room. His eyes fell on Sabrina as she stood just outside the doorway, watching. He mouthed the words “Lock yourself in!” and swept on by her.

She heard his footsteps as his long strides took him swiftly down the hall.

She hesitated, then followed him.

When she reached the main floor, he was nowhere to be seen, but he hadn't yet taken his coat from the hall tree. She frowned, puzzled, then realized that he had gone back down below.

 

Jon hurried back down to where he had found Reggie. In his concern to grasp at any hope of keeping her alive, he had ignored something right before his eyes.

Something that hadn't registered until she had been laid out on her bed.

A kerosene lamp remained where he had left it when he had knelt down next to Reggie. It spilled its light across the floor.

Reggie's hand had lain in a little pile of dust and straw that had spilled from the tableau.

And he searched for what had nagged at him, he found it. Yes. She had tried writing in the dust. It was difficult to read—it might have just been hand spasms. But no. There were definitely letters there, formed in the dust.
R…I…P…P…C
—no,
E. RIPPE…R.
Ripper.

He sat back on his haunches, frowning, then looked toward the tableau of Jack the Ripper.

He stood, realizing what his previous sensation down here had been. It smelled like…

When an animal got caught inside and died. It was cold down here, very cold, but still…

Shit.

He started walking to the tableau. There was Jack the Ripper in his stereotypical cape and black hat. And down below him was his victim. Mary Kelly.

Not Mary Kelly.

Susan!

Dead and decaying, dressed in the clothing that had adorned the wax figure. It was real blood, not paint, that now caked the slashed throat of the victim.

Her eyes were open and staring.

There was no mistaking her condition. No hope, no chance.

Susan was dead.

“God!” he breathed aloud, and the stench and the horror of it all suddenly gripped him. He doubled over so as not to be sick. And as he did so, he realized that he was hosting a killer far more dangerous and psychotic than he had ever imagined.

There was no question now that Cassie had been killed. And that Susan had known something…

That had cost her her life.

“Fool!” Jon charged her corpse, gritting his teeth. “Susan, why didn't you just tell us the truth? Why did you play games?” He was angry with her. He was horrified. She had played with cravings to be powerful, and she had paid with her life.

“Jon?”

He heard his name called. Sabrina. Oh, God.

“Sabrina, no!” he called.

But she was there, hurrying to him.

And staring.

At Susan's open eyes. The dried blood around her throat. The horror…

And then she looked at him. And there was terror in her eyes.

“O
h, Jesus, oh, God!” Sabrina exclaimed. She backed away, suddenly aware of the stench of blood, of death.

She opened her mouth to scream. “No, no!” Jon commanded, his hand clamping hard over her lips. Hard, smothering.

No, no.

She'd been a fool. He
was
a murderer.

“Damn it!” he whispered to her furiously. “Don't be ridiculous. I didn't do this. I only found her now because Reggie must have had a heart attack stumbling upon the truth down here herself. She left us a clue.
R-I-P-P-E-R,
written in the dust. I've got to get her to a hospital, get help up here and get the rest of us out. She knows who the killer is. Reggie knows, do you understand?”

As he spoke, Sabrina could still see Susan. See her throat. However had they missed this? That the vicious slash, and the blood, were real? How had they not seen it before?

Because the wax figures were so good, so real. You had to be right on top of this, you had to be
smelling
this to realize. Nothing had been different here, nothing at all…except that wax had become flesh, and paint had become blood.

Jon hadn't done it. So he said. But if he had done it, he could strangle her here and now….

His hand was easing from her mouth. “I've got to get moving.”

“What are we going to do? Tell the others?”

“We have to. If we don't let everyone know that we're aware Susan is dead, Reggie alive becomes even more dangerous to the killer.”

He took her by the hand, and they rushed up the steps. Jon burst into the library. V.J., Tom and Dianne were absent, upstairs in Reggie's room. The others were all present.

Jon looked around at them. “We've found Susan,” he said simply.

“Is she—?”

“Dead,” Jon announced.

Anna Lee stood uncertainly. “Not another heart attack?”

“No. She was murdered. Her throat was slashed.”

“Where?” Thayer demanded. “Why didn't we find her body before?”

“Because she's in the Jack the Ripper tableau,” Jon said.

“Lord!” Joshua exclaimed. He had been drinking tea by the fire. He set down his cup, stood and raced for the stairs.

“Wait!” Jon called, following him. “Wait, Josh, don't touch her! I'm going to get the police in here!”

But Joshua was on his way down the stairs, Jon and Thayer right after him. Joshua reached the tableau and touched Susan before they could stop him. They pulled him back, and he let out a horrible, keening sound. “Oh, my God, oh, my God…”

Sabrina had followed but remained in the doorway. Anna Lee, at her side, started to cry. “Oh, God, oh, hell, oh, God, oh…I'm going to be sick.”

She turned around, hand clamped over her mouth, heading for the ladies' room.

“Don't! Don't touch her! No one touch her!” Jon said forcefully. “Joe, Thayer, help me get Josh out of here. Camy, get Dianne. Everyone, out of here!”

He ushered them all out and closed the doors. Sabrina was still feeling sick herself. She met his eyes, and he reached out a hand to her. She hesitated just briefly, then took it.

Camy had an arm around Anne Lee. Together, they headed up the steps. They moved into the library like automatons.

Jon poured Anna Lee a drink, handed it to her. He looked at Camy. “You all right?”

She nodded. “I need a brandy, but I'll get it. We'll all get drinks.”

“Get your drinks, and lock yourselves into your rooms. Now. Before I go,” Jon told them.

“What about V.J., Tom and Dianne?” Joe queried.

“They're together. V.J. can't be guilty. I would never have noticed Reggie's faint pulse if it weren't for her,” Jon said.

“But what about Dianne?” Joe asked.

“Whoever killed Susan killed Cassie. You can make up whatever scenarios you want, but Dianne drove me crazy to do this Mystery Week again. She isn't a killer. She certainly didn't kill her own mother. So the rest of you get to your own rooms and lock yourselves in.”

“Can I lock in with Joe?” Anna Lee asked softly. “If you'll have me,” she said to Joe.

Joe smiled. “Sure, you know I will.”

“Everyone up,” Jon said.

They started up the stairs, paired off. Jon asked Joshua to explain the situation to Tom, V.J. and Dianne, and directed Camy to go up and tell Jennie and the girls to keep themselves locked in as well.

Joe and Anna Lee walked, hand in hand, to Joe's room.

“Guess you don't want me guarding Sabrina?” Brett said hopefully.

“Guess you'd better both just lock your doors,” Jon said.

Brett stopped Sabrina. “You know I'm not a killer. A womanizer, yes. But not a killer. If you do need help while hero-man is away…” He left it at that and went into his own room.

Jon came into Sabrina's room with her. He wedged a heavy chair in front of the panel leading to the secret passageway, then hit a brick in the fireplace that caused another brick—with a drawer behind it—to pop out. A small pistol lay inside.

“Know how to use a gun?” he asked her. She shook her head. He picked up the revolver and demonstrated. “The safety is off. Grab, aim, pull the trigger. Aim, pull the trigger. It's a six-shooter.”

She nodded, moistening her lips. He set the gun back in the drawer and shoved the stone back into place.

“Open it for me,” he told her.

She did.

He nodded, then drew her into his arms and kissed her hard. “I'm sorry, so damn sorry!” he said after a moment. “I should have ended this whole week long ago.”

“And let a killer get away? To kill and kill again? This killer is psychotic. Maybe he can be caught now.”

“And Susan is dead, and Reggie may die.”

“God forgive me, no one deserves a brutal death, but Susan obviously knew something, and she should have told us all what it was. And Reggie—”

“Reggie is one of the finest people I know,” he said.

“And she may live.”

“As may we.” His eyes studied hers. “This isn't a great time, but you do have a way of disappearing on me, and so let me at least get the question in. Will you marry me?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he set a finger on her lips. “Don't answer yet. Wait until I get back.”

“Oh, God, it's so late. It's freezing out there. You'll—”

“It's all right. I could see all the road clearing that's been done below. Damn I just knew Susan hadn't gotten that far. She hadn't gotten far at all,” he said bitterly. He kissed her once again. “I love you, you know. I have since I met you.”

She smiled. “I love you. And maybe Brett did have a right to seduce Cassie. You did ruin all other men for me.”

“You know I'm not a killer, right?” he said, brushing her cheek.

She nodded.

“But you know that someone here is.”

She nodded again. “I'll keep the door locked against everyone. And I know where the gun is.” She shuddered a little.

He gazed at her, kissed her, drew away. “I've got to go.”

He didn't look back. He left the room, ordering her gruffly to lock the door.

She did so.

His footsteps faded, and the castle became silent.

For a while, she paced. Then she sat. Tried to read. Time seemed endless. She looked at her watch, certain that hours had gone by.

Thirty minutes.

It would take forever for Jon to get back.

She started pacing again, then hesitated, certain she had heard a sound. She had. A scraping sound. Very soft. Almost indiscernible. She walked to her door, laid her ear against it, closed her eyes, listened.

A squeak. A scrape. Like a door sliding open.

She realized that the sound wasn't coming from outside the room, but inside.

She spun around. And she knew why she had felt she was being watched before. She knew why Jon had felt the sensation.

There was a second false panel, on the other side of the room, flanking the right side of the balcony. It was open, and Brett stood there now.

His face was chalk white. Drawn. She watched in horror as he started walking toward her.

“Brett…Brett…what…?”

So it was Brett! He was the killer! Oh, God! She had to scream, get to her door, get help….

 

Jon had his horse saddled in the stables when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He spun around, mentally bracing himself, aware that the murderer could have followed him to stop him.

But it was old Angus. “Sir?”

“I've got a dying woman in there, Angus, and something worse. A murderer.”

“Yer wife's killer, sir?”

He looked at Angus and nodded slowly.

“We'll get him, sir. We will.”

“I have to ride out, Angus.”

“Sir, there's something you should know first,” Angus told him gravely, a very slight smile playing at his lips.

 

Sabrina never got the chance to scream.

Brett pitched forward into her arms, crying her name. “Sabrina!”

His eyes closed. And she realized that he was covered in blood from a wound in his back.

“Brett!” Stumbling beneath his weight, she got him to her bed. Frantically, she tried to staunch the wound. He was unconscious. She was so involved with her frenzied efforts that she didn't see or hear anything at first as she wadded a pillowcase, her nightgown and then bedcovers to bind his wound.

Then she heard the sound.

And she realized that someone had come in after Brett.

Someone in a cloak and a top hat, wielding a huge knife that dripped blood.

Standing at the foot of her bed.

She couldn't see a face, just a scarf tied over the nose and mouth, the hat brim pulled low. The figure blocked her exit. And it was moving toward her.

She could scream, but she'd never get help in time.

There was only one way out. The secret passage.

And she had no idea where it led.

No choice.

She screamed as loudly as she could for good measure, then sprinted toward the open panel and the passageway.

 

Jon reentered the castle by way of the basement storm doors that led through a short passage to the furnace, the water system and then into the chapel.

Among the old vestments there he found a large black hooded cape. Wrapped in it, he made his way back into the chamber of horrors. He surveyed each tableau, deciding where he should wait.

He turned.

And from the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

A wax figure was moving. The torturer from the Lady Ariana Stuart display. The figure suddenly jumped out at him.

Wielding a knife.

He caught the figure's arm. They grappled to the floor, exchanging blows. The knife rose and fell. Jon moved quickly, yet felt a slash against his thigh. He gritted his teeth at the pain, praying he wasn't losing too much blood. The killer was aiming at him again. He shielded himself with a blow to the creature's arm and got in a good shot to the jaw. The knife flew across the floor. The killer rose, ran after the knife, turned.

Footsteps. Someone was coming. From somewhere within the walls of the castle.

The accomplice?

If he was attacked by two of them…

He heard gasping, crying, screaming. Someone running from someone in pursuit.

Jesus!

He swung his fist again.

 

Despite the dark and her staggering, desperate terror, Sabrina knew where they were headed.

The dungeon.

It was still dark where the winding stairs ended, with nothing but hard wall in front of her. In a panic, she began beating at it.

Miraculously, a panel gave. She burst out from the passageway…

And into the chamber of horrors.

Jack the Ripper was gone. Susan still lay dead.

She heard movement behind her. The killer. Jack the Ripper, come to life!

“No!” she screamed, and she turned to run. He caught her by the hair, spinning her back around. She struggled desperately, fighting, scratching. She heard a grunt, a groan.

He forced her against a tableau. She saw her own face as she was pressed downward. Saw more rope as the killer struggled to reach it, bind her so that he could kill her at his leisure….

She screamed and screamed…

And realized that the torturer above her was alive as well.