Never Sleep With Strangers (31 page)

Jon.

He suddenly leaped down upon her assailant, and the two went flying across the floor, battling intensely.

A knife went flying. Sabrina scurried to retrieve it, but it slid into the straw beneath the wax tableau. Jon and the figure pummeled one another with their fists. Sabrina scrambled through the straw, gave up the search and looked for something else with which she might attack the killer.

Then she heard a sickening crunch.

One of the cloaked figures went down. The other turned to her, drawing back his cowl.

“Jon!”

She cried his name and went racing toward him. He caught her in his arms. “Oh, God, oh, God!” At first, she just kissed him. Then she drew back. “But who…?”

“Joshua,” he said softly.

“Joshua killed Cassie?” she said incredulously.

“No!”

The downed figure struggled up to his elbows. Joshua's handsome face was sporting mean bruises. His eyes were both blackening; his nose was crooked and swollen. Talking was obviously an effort. He was winded, broken.

“No, I didn't kill Cassie,” he said. “But…”

“Camy killed her,” Jon finished. “And you killed Susan to protect her.”

Joshua laughed, then choked. “No, Camy killed Susan, too. And Reggie…but…” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “You've killed Camy, haven't you? That's her, in that pile at your feet, Jon.”

Sabrina thought Joshua had lost his mind. Then she realized that he was talking about a crumpled form at the feet of the wax figure of Jon on display.

“There—that's Camy. Where I immortalized you in wax, right, Jon?” Joshua asked.

“She isn't dead. She's unconscious.”

“But it doesn't matter, does it? She might as well be dead. We'll be locked away forever.”

Staring at him incredulously, Sabrina asked, “Why, Joshua? I don't understand.”

“It's kind of hard for me to swallow, too,” Jon said dully. “I trusted both of you. With everything. With my life.”

“At first…it just happened,” Joshua said. “Because Cassie meant to have Camy fired, and ruin everything between Jon and me. You see, I am good.” He smiled awkwardly. “But you know, art is like writing. Good doesn't necessarily mean fame or fortune. All my renown came from Jon's interest, no matter how good I was.” He grimaced with pain and looked at Jon steadily. “Camy told me she killed Cassie by accident. But since then…there have been other accidents. A girl I was friendly with in the village went over the cliff last year and—” He broke off, shrugging. “Then…you were right about the bullet in the hall, Jon. Camy did it. I told her she was being crazy. She said it was part of the game. Then she shot at the horses when we were riding. I don't know if she meant to kill either of you or Brett, but the rearing horses would have been blamed for any deaths. She wrote the note to you that she lied about, accusing you of being the murderer, to create trouble among all of you. To deflect attention.”

Joshua frowned, his pain evident once again. “How did you know, Jon? How did you know to come back? How did you suspect that Camy and I…” His voice drifted off; he lifted his shoulders. “I thought that we might just get away. Obviously, with all the forensic techniques available now, someone might have discovered who killed Susan. But it wouldn't have mattered. We would have disappeared by then. Gone to Mexico, Guatemala, Africa—somewhere. But then Brett there just had to play boy wonder and get nosy. He came back down. He found Camy and me here. I had to try to silence him. But how did you know what might be happening here, Jon?”

“Angus had seen you two together, Josh. You and Camy.”

“Why didn't you leave?” Joshua asked pathetically as he used the wall to slowly pull himself up off the floor. “Why didn't you leave to get help for Reggie?”

“Angus's son had finally made it up to the castle to help his father, and he rode down to the village for me,” Jon said. “And when Angus told me that he'd seen you two together—often and secretively—I began to fear that something worse would happen if I left.”

“Something worse is still going to happen!” a voice suddenly said heatedly. Sabrina and Jon spun around. Camy, whose ostensibly unconscious form had lain at the feet of Jon's wax image, was up. She fumbled in her cloak pocket and produced a gun. “I know how to use this—I made a point to learn. A woman frequently alone in an old castle in the wilds…I needed to be armed, to protect myself, you know,” she said. “Damn you, Jon, you just couldn't let the bitch die! I really never wanted to hurt you. You knew that Cassie was a monster, and Susan was even worse, and—”

“What about the village girl?” Jon asked her softly.

Camy looked as if she was about to lie. Then she shrugged. “She was in the way. I don't like competition. Joshua thought she was beautiful. Get up, Joshua. I'm sorry, Jon, but you've got to die now, too.”

Jon stared at her, then folded his arms over his chest. “No, I don't think so. Joshua knows now that you're psychotic. He's not going to help you. And I'm not going to let you kill me.”

“You can't kill us all, Camy!” Sabrina protested.

She looked at Sabrina and laughed. “Honestly, I'm sorry you just had to get so involved. You seem fairly decent. And old Reggie, if she just hadn't been such a nosy old puss! Still, it was fun to haunt you. You all think you're so clever. Jon thought he knew all the hidden passages in the castle, but I was the one who knew them all. And used them. Yes, it amuses me to watch people. I even watched you sleep. I thought you were the smart mystery authors, but I was the one with the power, the power of life and death, over you. It was tremendously amusing to use Jon's robe to clean the blood off me after I'd offed Susan. You were so intriguing. So desperately in love—and feeling such a fool that you might be in love with a wife-murderer! Weren't you still suspicious of him, right up to this very minute?”

“No,” Sabrina said. “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest as well and announced, “No. We're getting married.”

“You're getting dead!” Camy said, and started laughing.

“Camy, you are a monster,” Jon said. “Sabrina, we are getting married?”

“As soon as possible. Life is too short to waste any time,” she told him.

Camy, disgruntled that they seemed to be ignoring her, exclaimed, “You don't know how short!”

“You are the one and only real monster, Camy, and you've played havoc with my life long enough!” Jon announced. He limped toward her.

“Keep your distance, Jon. I'll shoot you.”

“Then do it! And you'd better aim well!” he said furiously. “Shoot to kill, because if I get my hands on you—”

“Wait, Jon! Camy, we've got to stop. We're done—” Joshua began, but Camy was grimly taking aim.

“No!” Sabrina shrieked.

The gun went off.

“Jesus!” Sabrina swore.

Camy had shot Joshua. With a bullet in his shoulder, he slammed against the wall, sinking down to the floor.

Sabrina started toward Joshua, and Camy turned the gun on her, firing. She missed. Sabrina dove to the ground while Jon rushed for Camy.

Camy fired two haphazard shots, diving behind one of the tableaux as she did so.

“Jon!” Sabrina shrieked, rising.

“Stay down!” Jon commanded.

She couldn't stay down. Jon knew as well as she did that they should make Camy keep firing wildly until she was out of bullets.

And Sabrina had to pray that the gun was a six-shooter.

Sabrina started to streak across the room again. Camy fired again. Missed.

One bullet left.

“Damn you, Sabrina, stay down!” Jon commanded.

At the moment, she did. They were all hiding among the wax tableaux, no one knowing exactly where anyone else was.

Then Camy suddenly rose from right behind Sabrina. She smiled, taking aim. “I kill you, and Jon is just as good as dead,” she said softly.

Her finger started to move on the trigger.

But Jon suddenly rose from behind Lady Ariana Stuart like a wave, a force of nature, a vengeful phoenix rising from ashes. He came hurtling across the room, tackling Camy at the ankles.

Camy shrieked, trying to aim and shoot.

But she teetered. Falling, she tried to take aim at Jon.

Her gun exploded.

So did a second weapon from somewhere else in the room.

Camy went limp, her eyes open, staring. Dead.

Brett, white as a ghost and still festooned in Sabrina's makeshift bandages, stood wobbling at the entry from the hidden passage.

“Jon?” he said quietly. “Jesus, am I too late?”

“Just a flesh wound or two,” Jon said, rising, his hand on his upper arm.

“I know you're a fighter, buddy,” Brett told Jon. “And you might have disarmed her, but I couldn't risk losing my best friend.” Brett smiled, then crumpled to the floor.

Jon walked to Sabrina, reaching to help.

Camy lay dead. Joshua was wounded or dead. Brett was on the floor, passed out cold. She and Jon were alone among the carnage.

“It's over,” he said softly. “Jesus, it's over,” he repeated. “See if Joshua is alive, if he has a chance. I'm going to get Brett upstairs, stop the bleeding again, get him stabilized. Amazing, isn't it? He did just turn out to be my best friend.” He knelt by Brett, carefully lifting the other man.

Then he looked up at Sabrina. “Did you really believe in me?” he asked.

“Always, in my heart.”

“But you were suspicious.”

“Logically, in my mind. But…”

“But what?”

“My heart would never listen,” she told him.

He smiled and, limping, led the way out of the chamber of horrors.

“J
on!”

He heard his name called, and he looked back.

There she stood, on the balcony. Calling to him.

He paused, smiled and waved back.

It had been two years since the night the medics and evacuation team had rushed up to the castle and the police had followed.

Both Reggie and Brett had made it. Jon's own wound had healed easily, leaving only a tiny scar. Joshua had died on the operating table.

The media had hopped on Joshua Valine's death, having a field day with the pathology of the unusual artist. His work garnered great publicity and attention—posthumously. But the gossip made Jon sad. Joshua had been guilty, but more of falling in love and refusing to think with his mind instead of his heart. He had become an accessory to brutal acts, though, and Jon often wondered if the artist could have survived year after year in jail. Camy's bullet and Brett's determination to protect his host and friend had written
finis
to the case before it ever went to a court of law.

Sabrina had left with the medical team that night to be with Brett—as a friend. And as soon as the police had finished with him, two weeks after the event, Jon had taken off from Lochlyre Castle, as well. He had needed to get away. To come to terms with everything that had happened. And he'd needed to do it alone.

Then, at last, he'd managed to go after Sabrina. And it was only with her that he'd broken down. He thought he had forgotten how to cry, and he hadn't realized that he'd blamed himself for Cassie and for Susan and for all the pain suffered in his castle. But that first night back with Sabrina, he'd begun to forgive himself. And to fall in love all over again.

They were married quietly, with her folks, her sister and brother-in-law and baby nephew in attendance. He'd never been happier.

On their first anniversary, they were gifted with the birth of a son. And soon after that, Sabrina had insisted that they leave the States and come back here. To Lochlyre Castle. The castle wasn't evil, she reminded him. Only some people were. She loved the estate, and vowed that it should be a place of happiness. That they could make it so.

And she had.

“Jon!”

“What?”

“You're just staring at me.”

“Well, you called me.”

“I got a card from V.J. and Tom. They're in Spain, and they want to come here for a week to visit.”

“Great! Tell them to come!”

He was surprised at the happiness he felt. He did love his castle. And, thank God, others wanted to come back, as well.

“V.J. says we need to host another Mystery Week sometime soon.”

“We'll think about that one, okay?”

“Okay!”

Sabrina's eyes were dancing in the sunlight. The breeze stirred her hair, making it flow around her face. She looked gorgeous, seductive, on the castle balcony. He'd gotten rid of the Poseidon statue, and the courtyard was planted with a vast variety of flowers.

She smoothed her hair back. “Jon…”

“Was there something else?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“What?”

“The baby is sleeping….”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you might want to come back for a while….”

He grinned, waved and started back to his castle. It was exactly where he wanted to be.