Raquel Byrnes (33 page)

It wasn’t the tea. It wasn’t the seeds. Tobias’s medication was an anticonvulsive and it wasn’t working.

He might as well have been taking peppermints.

Simon and I didn’t have epilepsy. We’d been drugged. And it wasn’t the first time this had happened. All this seemed to mirror the day two years ago when Amanna died. Someone was planning another death. Someone close. Siyah’s warning on the beach echoed through me.

Who had the most to gain from Amanna’s death? And who would need to keep you from finding out why?

40

I shook as I walked to the room, my breath coming in hitches. I had to be wrong. This made no sense. Pushing open the door, I stood in the center of the carpet scanning for something, anything, to prove me wrong. The desk by the window seemed like as good a place as any to start. I pulled open the drawers. Pens and notepads in one, some books in another, none of them what I was looking for. The last one held a bunch of folders. I took them out, leafed through the papers. A bank statement. I pulled it out scanning the expenses for a month ago. Phillip was heavily in debt. Credit cards, loans, all of it pointed to a man desperate for cash.

I searched the shelves at the far end of the room and my hand closed around a familiar object and swallowed hard. Shoved behind a stack of books was a bottle of Tobias’s medication.

Shaking, I sat on the bed, my throat closing, making it hard to breathe. It started to fall into place. Their lifelong rivalry. The intimate knowledge of the house and its secret passageways and of Tuttle’s son. Hadn’t he lived here on and off for years? Wouldn’t he…

“What are you doing?” Phillip’s angry words shook me, and I dropped the bottle of medication. It rattled and bounced between us on the hard wood floor. His gaze followed it, and he looked up at me, eyes wide.

“You, Rosie? You’ve been doing this?”

“Me?” I shook my head and picked up the medication bottle, shaking it at him. “I found this in
your
room, Phillip.”

“Yes, well, from my point of view, I just caught you trying to
plant
that in my room.”

“Someone has been drugging Simon. The same person who did it two years ago to cause his first blackouts.”

“He’s having blackouts?” Phillip’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For how long?”

“Don’t change the subject,” I cut in. “The point was to make him think he had something to do with her death, but I know he couldn’t have done it. Not in that condition. I’ve suffered one of these episodes myself and there’s no way…”

“Rosie, what are you talking about?” Phillip took a step forward, reached for me.

“Stop—stop right there,” I half yelled. “Don’t come any closer.” I shook with the realization that he and I were alone. At almost a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier, I was not much of a match for him.

“Whoa…just calm down.” He put his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I’m just as lost as you are.”

“Did you have an affair with Amanna?” I blurted. “Did you kill her?”

Phillip staggered back as if hit.

“N — No…” He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

I looked behind him, at the empty hall. “Where’s Mrs. Tuttle?”

“I have no idea.” He took a step towards me.

“She was here this morning.” I edged back, eyes flitting for an escape route. “L-Lavender is supposed to leave today. Mrs. Tuttle should be packing her suitcases for her.”

“Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk about this?”

“I want to go, Phillip.” My breath caught when he stepped in my path.

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.” Phillip’s expression was unreadable and sent a chill up my spine.

He moved fast, but I was already jumping onto the bed. I ran across the mattress, his hand just brushing my blouse.

“Rosie, wait!”

He lunged again, barely missing me as I slid through the door and down the hallway. I ran into a pedestal with a vase and grabbed the vessel by the neck. I swung it as he came at me, connecting with his temple with a solid thud. Phillip crumpled on the spot, a surprised gasp escaping his lips.

I stood over him, shaking from head to toe as I tried to understand what just happened. Help. I needed help. Who…Levine. I needed to call the sheriff. Panic began to stir, crowding out thoughts. Simon’s workshop would be safe. I could go there. Lock myself in and wait for the sheriff. With any luck, he’d get here before Phillip came to. A moan escaped his lips making up my mind for me. I had to get out of the house.

I ran downstairs. I reached the kitchen, flew through the side door, running down the path in the pouring rain. I slipped, righted myself, rounded the tree line and stopped, panting. The lights of the cottage were on, the door ajar. Hesitating, I flattened myself against the wall, my thoughts racing. I had to see inside first. I slid as quietly as I could towards the wire mesh window. Taking a breath, I rose slowly until the room came into view.

A familiar form stood in the center of the workshop, hat in hand. Relief flooded through me.

“Sheriff,” I cried and rushed into the room. “Sheriff. He—he’s up there.”

“What happened to you?” Levine led me to the small table in the kitchen. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…Phillip…I found a—”

“Just slow down now,” Levine said and took the seat opposite me. “What is going on?”

“I think Phillip did something to Simon.”

“Where is he?”

“I, he’s upstairs, knocked out. I hit him with a vase.” I squeezed the bottle in my hand and Levine’s gaze wandered to what I was holding.

“Did he do that something to Simon with that?”

“Yes, its Tobias’s medication. I think he’s been using it to drug Simon.”

Levine took the bottle with a handkerchief and held it up to the light. “So this has been causing all the problems, has it?”

“Yes. And I think he is trying to kill Simon.” I told Levine about the financial papers and the debt. “And he’s always been so jealous of Simon. Always wanted his life. I think…I think he may have killed Amanna.”

Levine stood, hands at his hips, and sighed.

“So you think Phillip used this to drug Simon two years ago? To what end?”

“To frame him for Amanna’s death, I think. I think he was the one having an affair with her.”

“I don’t know, Ms. Ryan. This would be easier to work with had you left this where it was.” Levine nodded to the medicine bottle. “If it doesn’t have his prints, all we have is your word that you found it in his room.”

“Yes, but there has to be some way to prove…” The cold trickle of dread dripped down my spine. I had not told Levine where I found the bottle. “To prove…” Two years ago, Dr. Fliven said that the sheriff helped Tobias through one of his fits caused by lack of medication. Around the time of Amanna’s death and Simon’s first blackout.

“Is something wrong?” Levine’s gaze held mine, his jaw set. “Ms. Ryan?”

“I—I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this.” Levine had brought someone in from Seattle to inspect Amanna’s body instead of having Dr. Fliven do it. What if the reason he brought in an outsider wasn’t to protect the investigation, but to plant evidence? Evidence that Davenport was able to quash? At the station, he’d said that “poisoning was assault.” How would he know about that?

“I think you should sit back down.”

“No, I really need some air.” What if Levine wanted a second chance at Simon and was using the anniversary of Amanna’s death to do it? I reached for the door. But why? I turned, struggled with the doorknob, when the click of his revolver’s hammer stopped me cold.

“How did you figure it out, Rosetta?”

“I just now…” A sob escaped me. I shook where I stood.

“The twins were an accident,” Levine said quietly.

“Please, Sheriff…” I faced him, my lip trembling. “Please don’t do this.”

“I wanted to take her away, to talk to her, but the kids got into the pitcher and…” His voice trailed off, and he let out an anguished moan. “I never meant to hurt either of them.”

“Sheriff—”

“I didn’t kill her!” Levine’s face contorted from anger to sadness and back to anger. “On the cliffs, we fought, but I would never…” He took in a ragged breath. “We were arguing one moment, she swiped at me, and the next she was just gone. Like the night had swallowed her.”

“
You
flooded the evidence room. To get rid of your own skin evidence. The fact that it made Simon look incredibly guilty was just a bonus.” I gasped.

A noise to the right of him caught my attention, and then her little face peered out at me from behind a shelf in the corner of the room. Lavender, her eyes wide as she saw Levine’s gun pointed at me. What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she on her way to Seattle with Tuttle? I shook my head, just barely, but she nodded. She put a finger to her quivering mouth.

Shhh
.

“And the creepy rituals and the book in Lavender’s room?” I snapped, desperate to keep him from noticing her. “You terrorized her. You made her believe her brother was speaking to her from the grave!”

Levine’s gaze shifted back to me, his lips pressed to a white line. “I paid a gypsy to do that. It was easy to convince one. Everyone knows the gypsies hate Simon. He left the notes that were supposedly from Lucien…he even whispered to her in the forest. It was easy. She’s always alone and so impressionable.” He took a step toward me. “No one would have questioned if Simon was driven to throw himself from the cliffs that his wife died at, by their black magic.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I cried and edged nearer to a shelf next to us. The solvent bottles and tools rattled when I bumped it. Lavender crawled nearer the door.

“Where do you think—” A loud crash at the back door gave me a split second, and I threw myself at the shelves, bringing them down on Levine, the glass and metal crashing to the floor around him. He fell to the floor, his gaze brushing Lavender, and he registered shock. “What is she…”

“Get out, Lala!” I yelled.

She pushed through the bottom half of the door, and I followed, barely skirting through in my panic before Levine fired a shot. It splintered the frame next to my hand, but I was already scrambling to my feet.

“No,” he yelled, lunging towards us.

I ran with her in my arms towards the kitchen door, my frantic cries echoing in my ears.

Lavender clung to me, sobbing as I slammed the door shut. I threw the lock. In the window, Levine’s form rounded the corner of the tree line heading for us.

“Go, baby,” I screamed. “Hide!”

I ran to the front doors, my hand closing on the deadbolt, flipping it a millisecond before Levine slammed against it. He banged on the door, shaking it in its frame.

“Rosetta!”

I stumbled back, terrified, crawling on my hands and heels until I hit the table in the foyer. Glancing around, I saw the ruffle of Lavender’s dress snake through the library door.

“Open the door, Rosetta,” he screamed, and the door quaked with his blows. “Now!”

On my feet, I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the phone from the hook. I dialed with shaking hands, eyes glued to the front door. He’d stopped banging. I froze, listening for him as the line started ringing. One. Two. And then nothing; dead.

“No, no, no,” I slammed the receiver down, picked it up again. Still nothing. I peered out of the kitchen window, searching. The storm blew leaves and loose branches across the path.

His face slammed against the window, and I screamed. Breath fogging the glass, he held up ripped wires. His dark gaze sent a shudder through me.

He brought his hand back in a fist, the revolver grasped in his fingers, and then rammed it through the window. The glass shattered.

“Stop,” I yelled, backing up. I stared with horror as he reached in, flailing for the lock. My hand closed on something on the counter. A rolling pin. I grabbed it. Stepping forward like a woodcutter, I rammed it down on his hand. “Leave us alone!”

He screamed, yanked his hand back out. I turned, ran for the library, my gaze flitting to the top of the stairs searching for Phillip. He was gone. Behind me, I heard the sound of crashing and splintering wood as he bashed the kitchen door open. I pulled the library doors shut, locking them. One of Davenport’s canes leaned against the wingchair. I grabbed it and slid it through the looped door handles.

“Rosetta, open this door,” he screamed. “Open it or I’ll shoot my way in!”

Horrified, I whirled, scanning the room.

“Lala,” I whispered. “Lala, where are you?”

She peeked out from under the covered table, and I scooped her up. She was pale, terrified, and she shook in my arms.

A deafening crash shook the door, and I screamed, the wood splintered from the hinges, the cane slipping. Panic squeezed out my thoughts. I clutched her to me, sobbing. Another smash and the door almost gave. I bumped into something, the faun statue.

“Help me, sweetie.” I gasped, and we turned the fawn on its base. The hidden door puffed open, and I pushed it in propelling Lavender ahead of me. I spied the fireplace utensils and grabbed the poker. Levine burst into the library just as I pushed the passageway door back into place. It clicked leaving us in total darkness. “Go, go, go!”

Lavender climbed the stairs, me pushing her to go faster as I looked back down the dark steps. We slipped and slid on the dusty stairs flailing in the blackness. I ran up against her. We’d hit the top.

The door below popped open. Levine climbed, silhouetted by the light in the library. He looked up at me and our eyes locked.

He sneered.

“Trapped,” he shouted.

I rammed my shoulder against the top door. Lavender and I fell through it together. Turning on my back, Levine’s form appeared at the doorway, and I kicked it into his face. He screamed and the door slammed into place. A crash followed by tumbling thuds sounded. I reached up. No lock. There was no handle, no place to shove the fireplace poker. Lavender shook where she stood, her eyes wide.

“That way, Lala,” I said and pushed the work table against the door, heaving and straining to slide it across.