The Witch's Stone

by Dawn Brown

  “I dinnae know what yer talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do. After what happened to Joan and Hillary, if I get a single shred of evidence to prove what you’ve done, I’ll go straight to the police.”

  “Hillary, is it?” James’s mocking voice made Caid grit his teeth. “Have you been intimate with her?”

  “How delicate. What bloody business is it of yers?”

  “None at all.” Cruel glee dripped from his father’s words.

  Leave now. He knew that tone all too well. Caid turned abruptly and started for the hall. Movement flashed to his left, as an eavesdropping Jude slipped out of sight.

  “Are you in love with her?”

  Caid ground his teeth until his jaw ached. Don’t get drawn in. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Is this where you tell me that she’s simply using me for her own gain?”

  His father’s hard grin widened. “No, nothing like that. I’m merely concerned for yer safety.”

  Caid put his hand on the cold metal of the door handle, refusing to listen to another word.

  “I’d be careful, were I you. Hillary Bennett murdered the last man she had an affair with.”

  Caid turned sharply. “You miserable old bastard.”

  His father’s bright eyes bored into him. “Dinnae you believe me?”

  “No’ a bloody word.”

  “She had an affair with one of her students--perhaps she and I have more in common than you’d like to believe.

  “What shite.”

  “Oh, it’s true. When she tried to end the relationship, the boy wouldnae let go easily so she murdered him to keep her reputation.”

  Slick fear coiled in Caid’s stomach. Was this the secret that haunted her? The nightmare that woke her? Struggling to keep his voice steady and unconcerned, he said, “Odd that she’s here, then, walking about free and no’ in a prison somewhere. Do they have such lenient laws in Canada, that they dinnae send their murderers to jail?”

  His father shrugged. “If you dinnae believe me, ask her yerself.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Hillary jumped at the high-pitched, electronic pulse from the phone next to her bed. She snatched up the receiver and pressed it to her ear. Her shoulders sagged in relief at the sound of Caid’s voice. After calling Glendon House well into the night without anyone answering, her imagination had started to get the better of her.

  “Where are you? I’ve been trying to call.” She turned toward the window, the courtyard outside alight with bright morning sun.

  “My brother’s in Edinburgh. I had some things to take care of last night. I’ll explain everything when I see you.” He hesitated a moment. “I need to ask you something. About yer past.”

  Her insides tightened. Oh God, he knew. “What is it?”

  “No’ over the phone. I’ll be back in a few hours. I’ve someone from a security firm coming to install an alarm when I get back. Any chance of the hospital letting you go?”

  She forced her voice to remain light, despite the sick fear swirling inside her. “I’ve already been freed.”

  “Will they let you wait there?”

  “Probably, but I’ll just head back to Glendon House after I see Joan.” And pack.

  “You shouldnae be there alone.”

  At least he still seemed to care what happened to her. That might change once she’d confirmed what he suspected. “Between what happened at the inn and our break-in, there are so many police in the area our intruder would have to be crazy to come back anytime soon. Besides, I’ll only be on my own for a few hours. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You dinnae have your car. How will you get to the house?” He said the last almost triumphantly, as if he’d trumped her.

  “I’ll call a taxi.”

  He started to speak, but she cut him off. “I’d better go now. See you in a couple of hours.”

  She hung up before he could say anything else. How had he found out about Randall? Someone must have told him. Was that why he’d gone Edinburgh? To get the answers she hadn’t given him? And what had he discovered? She could only imagine. Half-truths punched up with out-and-out lies. He shouldn’t have found out that way. She should have told him about what she’d done, herself.

  Sickened, she pulled the strap of his duffel bag over her shoulder. She left her hospital room and made her way down the corridor, past the nurses station and down another hallway to Joan’s room.

  She tapped lightly on the closed door, then opened it slightly and poked her head through the narrow gap. Joan lay in the bed with her eyes closed, a ventilator taped to her mouth. The pale bedding appeared unusually bright against the unnatural red of her skin. She looked like she’d fallen asleep while sun tanning on the equator. Her usually neatly coifed hair lay pressed against one side of her head, while the other side stood up in clumps. An IV bag dripped quietly beside her.

  A lump formed in Hillary’s throat at the sight of the woman who had been so kind to her. Someone had done this to Joan. Someone who had wanted her dead.

  “It’s a terrible thing, that.”

  Hillary jerked at the sound of Sarah’s voice as the younger woman came to stand next to her.

  “I wanted to see how she was. Have you spoken to her doctor?” Hillary asked.

  “I spoke to her nurse just now. Her burns are mostly first and second degree, but she’s suffered extensive damage to her lungs and broncii. It could be several weeks before she can come off the ventilator.”

  Hillary’s throat tightened and she couldn’t speak. Why would someone do this? How did the fire tie into the break-ins at Glendon House? And had she somehow inadvertently brought this on for Joan?

  “I cannae believe something like this could happen,” Sarah said, her voice barely more than soft whisper. Then she turned her attention back to Hillary. “But how are you? I heard about what happened at Glendon House.”

  “I’m okay. It could have been much worse.” The truth of her words sent a chill up her spine.

  “Aye, ye’re very lucky.” Sarah gave Hillary the once over, perhaps noticing the heavy duffel bag slung over her shoulder. “Have you been released?”

  “Yes, this morning.”

  “Is Caid coming for you?”

  “No, he stayed with his brother last night, and I didn’t want to wait for him to get back. I’ll just call for a taxi.”

  “Dinnae be foolish. I’d be happy to give you a lift and I’ll wait with you until Caid’s back. You shouldnae be alone in that house after everything that’s happened.”

  Maybe Sarah was right, and the company might prove to be a distraction from dwelling on her future discussion with Caid. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Sarah chatted to her for most of the drive and fortunately seemed to require little from Hillary in response. A good thing, she was too distracted to really pay attention. Instead, she watched the passing scenery through the window.

  The morning sun had vanished behind dull gray clouds, turning the sky as bleak as her mood. As Sarah turned up the drive to Glendon House, the first drops of rain splattered against the glass.

  Inside, the house was dark and quiet, tomblike, and for the first time since she and Caid had arrived, the house felt foreign to her. Between trips to the hospital and Edinburgh, Caid hadn’t had the chance to tidy the mess their intruder had left.

  Sarah gasped as they passed the study, papers and books scattered from one end of the room to the other. “Good lord, what could they have been looking for?”

  “We don’t have clue,” Hillary admitted. “As far as we can tell, nothing was stolen, and besides a huge mess, nothing was damaged, either.”

  “Can I help you tidy up?”

  The enormity of the mess seemed overwhelming and her head ached dully where she’d been hit. “How about a cup of tea first?”

  “Gladly.”

  Hillary led Sarah into the kitchen and filled the kettle. While waiting for the water to boil, they both absently gathered the
silverware and utensils from the floor.

  “You’ll have to wash all these before putting them away,” Sarah said, setting a handful in the sink with a clatter.

  Hillary nodded, but she was hardly listening. The door to the pantry still stood open and something small and silver glinted from the gloom beneath the shelves. Frowning, she went to see what it was. Her anger mounting, she lifted a tiny earring and held it so the skull and cross bones dangled before her.

  Willie! He’d been the one to toss her into the cellar, but why? Had he been after the journals? Had he been so determined to keep her from writing about Anne, he’d knocked her unconscious and locked her in the basement while he searched the house?

  She had to call Bristol.

  Hillary started to leave the pantry, but stopped herself, closing a fist around the earring. She didn’t know what Willie had been looking for, but she wanted to find out. Willie didn’t see her as threat. He knew he intimidated her, so maybe she could get him bragging or threatening. Either way, he might just confess the whole thing to her.

  Then she’d go to Bristol.

  “What do you have there?” Sarah’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  Hillary slipped the earring into her back pocket. “Nothing. Um, I have somewhere I need to go and don’t want to go alone. Would you come with me?”

  “Of course. Where?

  “I dinnae like this,” Sarah muttered in Hillary’s ear as they stepped into Willie’s smoky pub.

  Hillary didn’t like it either, but it was too late to back down now. “Hello Willie,” she called out to the man glaring at her from behind the bar. Her heart thudded hard against her chest, but she managed to sound casual. “I hoped we might be able to talk.”

  He snorted. A family at a booth in the back watched the exchange uneasily, while two men sitting next to the bar grinned.

  “Get out and take yer crazy friend with you.” Willie shook his head, turning his back on her.

  “You want to speak to me.”

  Willie swung around, his dark eyes blazing, any trace of amusement gone. “What makes you think I’ve anything to say to you?”

  Hillary’s mouth went dry under the man’s hard glare. She lifted her arm and dangled the earring from her trembling fingers. “You forgot this at Glendon House. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to return it, but I’ve been in the hospital with a concussion since your visit.”

  Someone from the back booth gasped. Hillary didn’t look to see who. She kept her attention fixed on Willie, watching his every movement and gesture. His eyes widened before turning shrewd. He jerked his head to the left.

  “In the back.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Sarah whispered as they followed Willie down a narrow hall past the restrooms to a small office.

  Hillary nodded with more conviction than she felt. Maybe confronting the man like this was a mistake, but she was tired of being intimidated by him, and she wanted answers.

  Willie sat in a gold vinyl chair behind a cheap desk. Piles of receipts and papers covered the faux wood surface, leaving only a small square of workspace directly in front of him.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’d offer you a seat, but…” He shrugged. His was the only chair in the tiny office.

  “Not to worry. I don’t intend to be long,” Hillary said. “I want to know what you were looking for when you broke into Glendon House.”

  “I never broke into Glendon House.”

  “This,” she held out the earring, “says you did. Don’t deny that it’s yours. I saw you wearing it the last time I was in here.”

  “Aye, I did have an earring like that, and I’d be interested to know how you’ve come to have it when mine went missing a few days ago.”

  “Actually, that’s quite easy to explain. When you knocked me out and dragged me to the cellar, you lost it somewhere along the way.”

  “But I never did those things. I’ve never been inside Glendon House.”

  “Why burn down Joan’s inn?”

  “I dinnae know what ye’re talking about. I’d nothing to do with that. Besides, how could I be burning down Joan’s inn and tossing you in a cellar at the same time?”

  “Maybe you started the fire at Joan’s as a diversion to get Caid out of the house. That would leave only me to deal with and then you could search for whatever it was you wanted.”

  Willie leaned back in his seat. “I’d no’ need a diversion to take out Douglas.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend your macho sensibilities. Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me what it was you were looking for?”

  “It wasnae me.”

  “Fine, I’ll go to Bristol and you can explain to him how your earring came to be in my house."

  His gaze bounced between her and Sarah. “There’s plenty of shops that sell those.”

  “You’ve threatened me twice, and I find this after I was attacked. You’re right, it’s not a smoking gun, but I’m sure it’s enough to arouse Bristol’s suspicions and make him take a closer look at you.”

  Willie glared at her. “This conversation’s over. Get out of my place and dinnae come back. Either of you.”

  Hillary left the pub feeling stronger than she had in a long time.

  “I dinnae think that was a very smart thing you did,” Sarah said once they started back to Glendon House.

  Hillary shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him get away with the things he’s done.”

  “It was wrong what he did, but--”

  “But what? He nearly burns a woman to death in her bed, he cracks me upside the head and stuffs me in a rat-infested cellar. Who knows what else he’s done.”

  Sarah didn’t reply. Fat drops of rain splattered against the windshield, the only sound in the otherwise silent car.

  “I dinnae see how you can tie him to Joan,” Sarah said at last.

  “How do you explain Joan’s inn burning down the very night someone attacks me at Glendon House?”

  “Coincidence.”

  Should she tell Sarah about what she’d read in the journals? No, not yet. Not until she’d discussed it with Caid. All of this--the recent deaths in the village, Joan’s inn, her attack, and the journals--they all fit together somehow. But she was missing something. A final piece of the puzzle that would make all the others fall into place.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” she said instead.

  Sarah turned up the long drive and Hillary’s skin turned cold and clammy. When Sarah pulled in beside Caid’s car, nerves danced low in her belly.

  “Did you want to come in?” Hillary asked, mostly to be polite, but also as a means of stalling the inevitable conversation waiting for her inside.

  “I dinnae think so. I need to see to my gran,” Sarah said.

  Hillary nodded. “Thanks for the ride.”

  She climbed out of the car and started toward the house, but the squeak of Sarah’s window lowering made her turn.

  “Be careful, Hillary,” Sarah said, her expression grave. “It would be a terrible irony to see you spearhead yer own witch hunt.” And with that she pulled away.

  Hillary stood where she was, oblivious to the rain, watching until Sarah’s taillights disappeared in the wet fog. What was that supposed to mean?

  Hillary shook her head. She had more pressing issues at hand. Alone, she turned to Glendon House. The lights burned warmly from within. That comforting sense of home returned, but she did her best not to think about it.

  After she told Caid the truth, who knew what the future would hold?

  At the sound of the front door opening, Caid froze where he knelt next to the desk, a stack of papers in his hand. A strange combination of relief and dread coiled inside him, turning his insides to knots. He set the papers on the desk and stood.

  “Hillary?” he called.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Have you been home long?”

  “Three quarters of an hour.”

  “You’re voi
ce sounds much better.”

  “A good night’s sleep,” he lied. He’d lain awake for hours in his brother’s guest bedroom after leaving his father’s house. James’s parting words had swirled in his head until, at last, physical exhaustion had won out.

  Hillary moved to stand in the doorway and something in his heart leapt. Wet with the rain, her hair tousled from the wind, she reminded him of the day he’d first met her, standing wide-eyed and barely dressed. He wanted to touch her again, taste her, forget every ugly thing his father had said.

  “Where were you?” he asked instead.

  She took a deep breath and a sad smile crossed her face. “I’ll tell you after, first I’ll tell you what you really want to know. I promised I would.”

  “What do I wantae know?” His mouth seemed to work independent of his mind, because his brain didn’t want to know anything.

  “You want to know if did it. If I killed him.”

  He tried to swallow, but couldn’t, his throat too dry. “Did you?”

  She dropped her gaze and drew in a deep breath. When she met his eyes, hers were glassy with unshed tears. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The air sucked from Caid’s lungs in one slow whoosh as his stomach dropped to his feet. Why, just this once, couldn’t his father have been wrong?

  He moved to the other side of the desk and lowered himself onto the chair. When his gaze met Hillary’s, she looked away, wiping at the thin lines of moisture running down her cheeks.

  He couldn’t believe it. Even now, with her admittance still ringing in his ears, he couldn’t believe that she could kill someone. For the love of God, she couldn’t bear the sight of a mangled rabbit. How could she have killed a man?

  “Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse, but this time it had nothing to do with the effects of the fire.

  “His name was Randall Myers, and he was my student.” She drew a deep breath, and met his eyes once more. Her voice was steady now, her tears dry on her cheeks. “It started with him lingering after class to talk to me, usually just to ask questions about the lecture or an assignment. I didn’t mind. Even when he asked me about what I did on the weekend or commented on new clothes, I didn’t really think anything of it. Some friends made a joke about him having a crush on me. I thought it was funny.”