Inheriting Evil

by K S Logan

  There it was again. Grace sat up in the bath as she tried to identify the noise; it sounded like the creaky stairway. Her fear heightened as Piper started barking.

  She rushed out of the bath and wrapped herself in her dressing gown. Piper let out a loud, distressing yelp. She called out for the dog and was just about to turn the glass doorknob when the door burst open in her face! It was him. The man from the night at the library. He was holding the same large knife that he threatened to skin her with, and he looked angry enough to make good on his promise to use it.

  Grace backed away from him, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. There was nothing.

  “Just because the little weasel is dead doesn’t mean his debts are forgotten. You’re going to pay up tonight, or your bathing days are over.” He loomed over Grace. He was absolutely enormous.

  She ducked down beside him, under his arm, and ran to the other side of the room, nearly slipping on the wet tile floor. She stood facing him from the opposite side of the bathtub.

  “Okay. That’s no problem. How much is it? I can get it from the bank and have it for you by tomorrow.” Grace said, tremor in her voice. He was definitely well over six feet tall and at least two-hundred and fifty pounds. He had thinning, black hair that was wet and stuck to his scalp in thin strands; some stray hairs were plastered to his nasty, scarred face.

  He reached across the tub and almost had Grace by her wrap, but she forcefully tore free. There was nowhere to run. He was too big, and his arms had a wide span, he grabbed her as she tried to run past.

  He wrapped a massive arm around her neck and squeezed tightly. Grace bent her head and bit deep into his wrist while at the same time jabbing her heel hard into his foot. Then, remembering her kickboxing classes, she spun around and brought her right foot up, kicking him as hard as she could in the scrotum. He bent over in pain, and Grace took the opportunity to run, but he grabbed her by the ankle, and she slammed, face first, onto the solid, unforgiving tiles.

  Grace was dazed as she felt herself being carried out of the bathroom. He took her to one of the bedrooms and laid her on the large bed. Though she was dazed from her fall, she recognized this was her mother’s room.

  He was breathing heavily, his breath sour, like too many late-afternoon pints.

  “Now, let’s have a look-see at what’s under this robe, you lively little bitch.” His voice was deep and gravelly.

  He straddled her body and held her arms out at her side, his eyes explored her body where her gown had fallen open. She struggled under his strong hold. Once more, she brought up her leg and, with her knee this time, jammed him in the crotch. Without much leverage, she couldn’t get a ton of force behind it, but he must have still been tender from the first blow. He released her left arm just enough that she got it free and grabbed the first thing she could get her hand on. She hit him on the temple with the old, metal music box from the nightstand. He grabbed his head in agony and rolled onto his side.

  Grace made a run for the door. He was coming, but he was moving a little slower. It was now or never. She had to stop him, or he’d soon get his strength back and come after her again. He staggered toward her, still bent over. One hand on his crotch and the other, the knife-wielding hand, on his bleeding face. She brought the music box down again, steel feet first, onto the middle of his skull. He faltered on his feet and began to fall backward. His head hit the corner of the large wooden dressing table with a thick, sickening smack. His large frame thumped to the floor, and he fell on his side.

  Still holding her makeshift weapon, Grace walked to where he lay, ready to hit him again if he moved. There was blood pooling fast under his shoulder, and she saw that the blade of his own knife was stuck in his neck.

  “Oh my God, Piper,” Grace said and left the room at a run. “Piper! Piper!” She heard whining coming from the foyer closet, and she swung open the door. “Are you okay, buddy?”

  She gave him a quick once over, checking for blood and wounds. It was hard to examine him, though, he was wiggling all over and planting big kisses on her face. “Okay, okay, you’re all right.”

  She went to the kitchen and called 911 for the second time in just a few short months.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Grace felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of Cameron coming home. He should be walking in the door any minute now.

  She had called him after what happened with the maniac, whose name, she learned from investigators, was Bruce Michaels. Apparently, he was a ‘leg breaker’ for some shady casino owner in Edinburgh; someone Keaton owed over ten thousand pounds. Police had been trying to find something concrete to pin on the crooked lender for months. Attempted murder was precisely what they needed.

  Cameron wanted to come home immediately after she told the whole story, but Grace assured him she was fine. The madman was dead; the nightmare was over.

  Thank goodness Piper was okay. Michaels had grabbed the dog and thrown him in a closet that night, but Piper suffered no severe injuries. It was his barking that confirmed someone was in the house, and she’d be eternally grateful to him for that. Grace looked down at the dog as he snoozed by her feet under the desk. She scratched his head, and Piper groaned with approval.

  Finalizing the restoration and renovation plans for Craigrook kept Grace busy. Marc’s firm had been doing outstanding work; she loved the ideas they had for her home. It would still have all the historic bones intact but with modern, updated elegance.

  Landscaping construction was underway, and yesterday Grace had watched with a sense of closure as an excavator took its first bite out of Morvin’s noxious frog pond. Her horrific ordeal was in the past, and she was excited to get on with her new life.

  She’d always wonder, of course, what happened to her father, how he really died, but that truth was buried with Morvin. Grace touched her butterfly pendant. At least she knew he loved her and had wanted to tell her the truth. She was thankful she knew that much.

  The knowledge that Morvin was her mother had rocked Grace to her center. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever make peace with that. It did help, however, to understand Morvin’s cruelty all those years and also helped Grace accept that it was never her fault.

  She still wrestled with her decision to keep the money that she always vowed never to depend on. But Grace took solace in the fact that she was restoring her family’s historic estate with it. She had also donated to a teen pregnancy charity and a portion of it to psychiatric research.

  Grace heard a car pull up outside.

  “Cameron!” She bumped her knee on the desk and splashed coffee on her papers. “Ouch. Easy, Grace.”

  She rushed to the front door and threw it open. She ran toward Cameron’s smiling face, and he picked her up in his arms. He swung her around and kissed her.

  “My God, I’ve missed you, lassie.”

  Piper swirled around the two of them, waiting for his turn to greet his master.

  “I’m so glad you’re home, Cameron.” Her eyes began to water. She had no idea she could love someone this much. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you,” she said.

  “Oh, that sounds promising, but can I at least unpack first?” Cameron winked and then bent down and greeted his faithful dog, letting him soak his face with kisses.

  “Stop it,” she said and gave him a swat in the arm. “Seriously, get your cute little buns in here.”

  He looked behind him as if trying to see his ‘little’ buns, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him into the library.

  “Look. The plans are finalized. I just need your official stamp of approval for the interior.” She looked back and forth from the plans to his face, clasping her hands in front of her.

  “Okay, let’s see. Looks good here,” Cameron said, scanning. “What’s this? Is this the library? Where we’re standing?”

  “Yes.” She tilted her head at him slightly. “Looks quite different, doesn’t it? That’s because it’s going to be your office and personal libr
ary.”

  “It looks spectacular. Thank you,” Cameron said, and kissed the top of Grace’s head.

  He continued perusing the papers, nodding here and there. “The kitchen’s going to be great. I see you went with my idea of adding the butcher block island here.”

  “Yes, the contractor totally loved that.”

  “Bloody great work, darling,” he put the plans back on the desk.

  “You’re not done looking yet, Mister,” Grace teased.

  Cameron looked at the plans again. “Well, I see the master bedroom, the new en suite bathroom...lovely...” he trailed off. His face sobered. “What’s this wee room here going to be used for?”

  “That’s the nursery, Cameron.” She bit her bottom lip, waiting for him to say something.

  His eyes suddenly widened, he put his hand to his mouth. “Are you saying...? I’m going to be a father?”

  “Yes.”

  He scooped her into his arms and held her. “I can’t believe it, Grace. Are you sure?”

  She nodded, and a tear ran down her cheek.

  “Thank you, Grace. Oh my God, a baby.” He let go and looked at her through his own tears. “I guess I was a little late then.”

  “Late for what? What are you talking about?” she asked.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little blue velvet box with a shiny gold ribbon tied around its center.

  Without even opening it, she screamed excitedly, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  “You better open it before you say anything. Maybe it’s just a brooch,” he chided.

  “It better not be.” She unwrapped the ribbon and opened the little box. It practically lit up the room with its sparkle. The diamond was enormous, round in shape and set on a floral crown of, what looked like, a million dazzling diamond accents. It was absolutely exquisite.

  He took the box from her, lifted out the ring, and went down on one knee. He motioned for her hand and then placed the ring gently on her finger.

  Grace felt light-headed as she nodded and said, once again, “Yes.”

  They embraced for an eternity, both of them in tears and beyond bliss. She was so thrilled she almost forgot her other surprise. She held out a small stack of typewritten pages in front of him.

  “What’s this? You didn’t. Already?”

  “Yeah, I did. Well, it’s only the outline, but it’s a good start. I came up with a title for my book, too,” she said, pointing to the top of the first page.

  “Finding Grace,” he read. He smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Exactly.”

  Grace didn’t notice the pretty white butterfly outside the library window. It sailed off in an instant and resumed its long, happy, graceful journey home.