Regencyland- The Bristle Park Murders

by Ellie Thornton

  “I’m not sure,” Hamilton said. “You’d have to talk to Mr. Rafferty about that.”

  “As long as there is something we can use for fishing line, I’m sure we can manage it.” Daley mimicked casting a line.

  Hamilton faced Shea. “That was a fine first shot you took there.”

  “Beginner’s luck.”

  “Yes, it was,” Mr. Daley agreed. “To be honest, I’m surprised you missed the following shot. Are you sure you’ve never fired a gun before?”

  She could feel her face heating up, but managed to shake her head.

  Mr. Daley’s smile got bigger, and he placed a fist on his hip as he scrutinized her.

  “Are you questioning the word of the lady?” Mr. Hamilton narrowed his eyes at Daley.

  Well, at least she wasn’t the only person Daley was currently irritating.

  Daley pulled his gaze from her and faced Mr. Hamilton. His smile remained, but it was no longer touching his eyes. “Not at all, simply trying to pay my dear cousin a compliment.”

  “She’s modest and doesn’t want the scrutiny,” Hamilton said. “Look at her; you’re making her uncomfortable.”

  Shea whipped her head up. Daley was making her uncomfortable, the way he looked at her made her feel like he was reading her thoughts, but the last thing she wanted was the two of them arguing about her. What was it with these two?

  “It’s fine,” she hurried to say before Mr. Daley could respond. She turned to Hamilton. “I’d like to see you shoot.”

  Daley got the message and strolled away.

  Mr. Hamilton had given her two more shots, which she’d used to miss the target completely, and then he’d taken over. His grouping was impressive, and his aim good, but not as good as hers. Though he seemed happy to show off. It was the first time she’d seen him show off.

  Miss Cross was the next lady to shoot. Daley had taken a couple of steps back and had allowed Asher and Bayliss to show her how it was done. Or not show her. The kick back not only made her holler in pain, but it nearly knocked her over too. Probably would have if Daley hadn’t caught her.

  It didn’t escape Shea’s notice that Daley was the only man not to shoot. He, like her, stood back and watched. Though, she thought he seemed more amused than was called for. Then again, it was Daley.

  “Ten pounds says I can make three shots within the first two rings,” Bayliss said.

  Hamilton glanced over.

  “I’ll take that bet.” Asher lowered his gun.

  “So will I,” Hamilton said. He hung the rifle over the crook of his arm and left Shea by their lane.

  “Even better.” Asher puffed his chest out. “I’ll bet I can get three within the first ring.”

  “You’re on,” Bayliss said. The men shook hands, and it looked like it hurt, especially when they let go, exposing red hands.

  While the men went over the rules, Shea faced the house. She could go now, while they all had their backs turned, to see if she could find the spot. In the week she’d been here, there hadn’t been any rain or hard wind. If someone had been there, there might still be footprints. The easy breeze from earlier was slowly ratcheting up and in the distance storm clouds swirled on the horizon. They’d probably have rain in the next couple hours.

  Of course, she had Cross to consider, but now that they’d been out here for a half hour, she’d been able to reason that no one would try to shoot her in front of several witnesses. And besides, that pig head had more than likely been to frighten Cross than anything else. It was now or never. The way Shea was watched, she hadn’t even been able to get out the front door without being stopped. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure no one was watching, then ran for it.

  “Miss Shea!” Cross’s gravelly voice called out just as Shea reached the tree line.

  Shea turned. “Miss Smith, what are you—”

  Miss Smith caught up, then bent over to catch her breath. “You run fast, and in these dresses, I’m impressed. Are you chasing the foxes too?”

  Behind Miss Cross, Bayliss was lining up his shot. No one the wiser to the disappearance of either woman. “Uh, yeah. I love foxes.”

  Miss Cross beamed. “Ooo, lets catch it,” she said and rushed past her into the woods and the wrong direction.

  Shea rushed after her. “This way, Miss Cross. It went toward the house.”

  A blanket of lime green grass grew over the forest floor and around the bases of the aspens. A small grassless path wound deeper into the woods and was covered in tracks of several deer.

  The first shot was fired, then a second and a moment later a third. The report echoed through the woods, bouncing from tree to tree. Mr. Bayliss had taken his shots. In a minute it’d be Asher’s turn, and shortly after he was done, she’d have to turn back.

  Shea scanned the forest for any signs of the house, spotting it between a small opening in the thicket.

  “Did you find him?” Cross panted.

  Shea slowed as she got closer, and started scowering the ground when she was sure she’d found the general location of the light. “No, he’s probably gone into a foxhole.”

  “Oh, baby foxes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” Three more shots were fired, making Cross jump. “Men. With them making bets of target practice, we’ll never find them.”

  But then Shea did find something, a heel print. She lined herself up behind it. It faced the house, and was almost perfectly lined up with the window where she’d been standing. She held her breath and knelt. Someone had been squatting here looking up at the house. She cleared away a few leaves and dried grass finding three indents. A tripod. Her heart hammered against her chest.

  If it’d been a reporter with a camera, Lee would have informed her of a leak of Cross’s whereabouts days ago. Which meant only one thing. This was a sniper’s tripod.

  “Did you find something?” Cross bounced in place.

  Just as Miss Cross approached her, a low whistling sound screeched in their direction. Sniper rifle! She grabbed Cross and slammed her to the ground. A bullet pierced into the bark of a tree directly behind where Cross had been.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What’s… what’s happening?” Cross cried out and covered her head.

  There was another shot, louder—from a rifle and it flew above their heads seconds later. Shea covered Miss Cross with her body; the bullet hit the ground near them.

  “Stay down,” she told Miss Cross, then rolled over and yelled. “Stop shooting! We’re in the woods.”

  Another boom echoed through the woods, but this time it didn’t come anywhere near them, but a happy cheer made her guess it’d hit a target. She risked sitting up, hoping the sniper was gone. Either way, she needed to get the attention of the group. Someone had fired in their direction from one of the rifles too. She grabbed a stick on the ground near where she was, ripped the hem of her pale yellow dress and hung it over the stick.

  Another shot was fired, and she dropped back to the ground. She couldn’t tell where that one had landed. Her adrenaline was slowly working against her. Though she thought it was close. She lifted the stick and waved it. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”

  “Put the guns down,” a frantic male voice called out in the distance.

  “They’re in the woods?” came another voice.

  She sat up, and from here, could just see the group—the men were running in their direction. She turned her attention back to Miss Cross. “Are you okay?”

  “Are they still shooting?” Miss Cross whimpered.

  Shea knelt beside her and helped her to a sitting position, making sure to keep her body between Cross and the direction the sniper’s bullet had come. “No, they’ve seen us.”

  Miss Cross looked light-headed and reached to the back of her head. When she pulled her fingers back, there was a little bit of blood on them. “Ouch.”

  “Let me look,” Shea said gently pulling Cross’s head forward. There was a small cut. “Just a scratch, you won’t need stitches. I’m sorry I knocke
d you to the ground so hard.”

  Cross took Shea’s hand. “No, you saved my life.”

  The rapid succession of footfalls on earth was followed by Hamilton yelling out before he reached them. “Are you all right?”

  Shea swallowed, finding herself unable to talk. She gave him a thumbs up.

  “Are you all right?” he called again, right before he reached them and dropped to one knee.

  “Yes,” Shea peered at him, “but Miss Cross knocked her head when she went down. We need to get her back to the house.”

  The other men were close behind.

  Hamilton turned his gaze to her, and let it slide down her body and to her torn dress. “Your dress?”

  “I ripped it,” she said.

  He clenched his jaw and nodded, then scooped Miss Cross into his arms at the moment the others arrived.

  Mr. Asher was first, then Captain Bayliss, followed by Mr. Daley and Miss Smith.

  Mr. Asher helped Shea to her feet. “Are you all right?”

  Shea nodded and brushed the grass from what was left of her skirt.

  Miss Smith and Mr. Daley went directly to Miss Cross and walked along with Mr. Hamilton as he carried her back toward the carriages.

  “I’m so sorry,” Miss Smith whimpered. “I could’ve killed you. I had no idea you were here.” She hiccupped.

  “Are you all right?” Captain Bayliss asked her.

  She nodded and rushed after Hamilton. “Yes, but Miss Cross will need to get cleaned up some. She hit her head.”

  “Miss Cross, did I shoot you?” Miss Smith was almost as ashen-faced as Miss Cross and had to scramble to keep up with Hamilton.

  “I just hit my head. I’m fine,” Cross said, then reached out for Daley’s hand. “I didn’t catch the fox.”

  Shea stumbled and held back as the other’s continued to walk, her hand instinctively going to her crucifix.

  Daley patted Cross’s hand. “Next time, Miss Cross. Only, next time, try to avoid getting shot, yes?”

  When she came out of the woods, the carriage was already heading down the road with Cross, Smith, Asher, and Bayliss. She rubbed the smooth piece of fabric from her dress that she’d gone back for as an excuse to look for that first bullet. If she’d had any doubt it’d been a sniper, it was gone when she knocked the bullet out of the tree and found it was likely homemade. Any hope of tracking the owner through the infrequently purchased rounds of a sniper rifle was gone.

  Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Daley waited for her, and both their faces alighted with relief when they saw her coming. She eyed Mr. Daley. Hadn’t he told her that Miss Cross was in good hands? He had sent Cross into the woods after foxes Shea had never seen moments before Cross had nearly been shot. She was now a hundred percent certain that there were people here, more than one, working together against Cross. Most certainly after whatever it was on the flash drive Peltier had left her. Daley smiled at her as she approached, but it lacked all the cockiness it normally had.

  “Miss Cross.” Mr. Hamilton’s tone, laced with concern, pulled her attention from Daley. “Where did you go? We were looking for you? Are you all right?”

  She lifted the piece of fabric and showed it to the men. “I don’t think they’ll be able to fix my dress, but I figured Mrs. Rafferty would probably prefer to have it as to not.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? That was a pretty harrowing experience you had.” Hamilton stared down at her, his steel blue eyes creased at the corners. He seemed truly concerned for her. It’d been a long time since anyone had been worried for her, and she decided that she kind of liked it.

  “Quite. Actually, I am a little hungry,” she said.

  Mr. Hamilton turned to Daley. “Can you ride the horse back to the house? I’ll take Miss Shea in the phaeton.”

  Until that moment Shea hadn’t noticed that Mr. Daley was still staring at her, not even when Hamilton addressed him. Though a cocky smile had found its way back onto his lips.

  “My pleasure.” Daley still didn’t look at Hamilton. He turned to the horse.

  He also jumped to the top of Shea’s suspect list

  “Miss Shea!” Mrs. Rafferty ran down the steps to Shea as Mr. Hamilton helped her out of the phaeton and grabbed her hands. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She wasn’t this used to be asked if she were all right. Being nearly shot on the force had never gotten her sympathy.

  Mrs. Rafferty looked her up and down. “Your dress,” she said.

  Mr. Rafferty came down the steps.

  Shea flushed. It wasn’t until the ride back in the phaeton that she realized just how much of her dress she had torn. She hadn’t been able to cover her knee in the phaeton and while that was as high up as the tear had gone, and even though she’d worn far more revealing clothing than that, she felt embarrassed. It was this place.

  She and Mr. Hamilton had barely spoken on the ride back, but she had caught him staring at her a few times. His brow had been furrowed while he’d examined her and she couldn’t for the life of her imagine what that was about. It wasn’t until the last time she’d caught him staring that he’d smirked. That’d been when she’d started tugging at her skirt.

  “I ruined it, sorry, but I brought back the piece I ripped off.” Shea held it up to Mrs. Rafferty.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Mrs. Rafferty scolded her, but mildly.

  Mr. Rafferty stopped by his wife’s side and placed his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and took his hand. There was no mistaking her distress.

  “That was quick thinking, Miss Shea,” Mr. Rafferty said. “Miss Cross told us what you did.”

  The nervous feeling she had earlier was back. “Is she all right?”

  “Yes, didn’t even need a band-aid.” He winked. “Nothing to worry about. Head wounds are melodramatic.”

  Shea chuckled. “Can I see her?”

  They led her inside to the sitting room where Miss Cross sat on the couch with a bag of ice on her head. When Miss Cross saw her, she reached out. Shea immediately crossed the room and took her hand.

  “Miss Shea, are you all right?” Cross asked.

  Man, she was answering this question a lot. Shea pulled her chin back, surprised at the concern in the petite woman’s voice. “Yes, I didn’t even get a scratch.”

  “I thought you were following right behind us, but when we got here, you were nowhere to be found.”

  “Yes, we were all worried,” Miss Smith said from her spot on the couch opposite.

  Shea lifted the torn off piece of her dress. “I went back for my…”

  Shea suddenly felt the gazes of everyone in the room on her. Mr. Asher stood at the foot of the couch where Cross was sitting. Captain Bayliss and Miss Smith on the couch across from them and Mr. Hamilton and the Rafferty’s had spread about the room as they’d come in. Mr. Daley was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?

  Glancing down at her dress, she flushed. “I think I should go… change.” She needed to call Lee. Now.

  Mrs. Rafferty jumped and turned to her husband. “What time is it?”

  Looking at his pocket watch, he said, “Half-past one.” Mrs. Rafferty visibly relaxed. It made Shea feel uncomfortable. What was that about?

  “It’s time for lunch,” Mrs. Rafferty explained, and she supposed she didn’t know the woman well enough to say for sure, but she didn’t think that she’d gotten so excited over lunch. “You go ahead and change as quickly as you can—I’ll send Jessica up to help you.”

  “Okay,” she said, then made eye contact with Mr. Rafferty, signaling him to follow her out of the room.

  In the hall, she faced the older man and was careful to keep her tone light. “Her security is still coming, right?”

  “Yes, right after lunch.”

  “Perfect. I’ll just…” she signaled to her dress.

  He bowed and went back into the sitting room.

  Just as she was about to turn up the stairs, a door slammed just up the hal
l. She pulled back to see who it was.

  “Ah, Cousin Elizabeth,” Daley said upon seeing her.

  She narrowed her eyes. What was he up to? “Mr. Daley. You weren’t with Miss Cross.” She wasn’t sure why that had sounded like an accusation.

  He came to a stop a couple of feet from her and rolled back on his heels, his hand clasped behind his back. “She had enough people looking after her. I didn’t want to overwhelm her, so I went searching for the fishing line.”

  “Fishing line?” He couldn’t be serious.

  “Yes,” he laughed, “and I found it too.” He nodded over his shoulder to the closet, then yawned.

  “Oh, well good. I’m glad for you.” She tried to pull what was left of her dress over the gaping hole. “I need to change.”

  “I quite like this look on you—it’s very, very—”

  She clenched her jaw. “Humiliating?”

  “I was going to say heroic,” he said before she’d even finished speaking. He lifted his brow at her remark.

  Oh, that was… nice. “Thanks for saying so.” She curtsied and made her way up the stairs. Then she thought of the fishing line, and an idea struck her. She could make a trip wire with the fishing line. Tie it to the table across from her room, string it under her door and connect it to something heavy, but movable. If it slid in the night, she’d know someone was going to Cross’s room.

  She went straight to her phone and dialed Lee. He didn’t answer, so she called Brown, but he didn’t answer either.

  The snapping crack of thunder sounded.

  She left a message. “I need back-up. Now.”

  She hung up. Then she had a thought and lifted her phone, hoping for thirty seconds of internet connection. Come on, phone! “Siri, when was trip wire invented?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “There you are, Elizabeth.” Mr. Rafferty said as he exited the sitting room and met her coming down the stairs. “Do you mind if I steal a few minutes of your time? Mrs. Rafferty is deciding on tonight’s menu and thought you might like to give your input.” He nodded down the hall toward the office.