by Sofia Daniel
“What did she say?” asked Mr. Burgh in a softer voice.
Myra hesitated, and I clenched my teeth. Any pity I might have felt for the girl vanished as my mind filled in the blanks. How could anyone fall so deeply for a creature demented enough to sell drugs to little children? Elizabeth had zero redeeming features. She was cruel, arrogant, and according to Myra’s earlier reaction, she strung people along and withheld physical affection.
I shook my head. The only thing attractive about Elizabeth was her fortune, and my arrival at Templar had put that under threat.
“Miss Highmore, you cannot protect others if you want leniency,” said Mr. Burgh.
Myra gulped back a sob. “Lady Liddell said she would give her blessing to a civil partnership between Elizabeth and me if I saved both our reputations and got Lilah to confess.”
“And you believed her?” I asked.
Her face blanked. “What?”
“She’s married to the Archbishop of Scotland, who leads an institution opposed to gay marriage,” I said. “She has only one daughter who she’s trying to marry off to a prominent family. What makes you think she would follow through and let Elizabeth be with you?”
“It’s true,” said Orlando. “Lady Liddell contacted my grandfather when I was ten. He sent me here to become the next Lord Liddell, and so did the families of several other boys.”
Myra’s eyes darted around the room. I wasn’t sure if she was looking for an escape route or a way to burrow out of her current hole, but she seemed to be thinking through her options. Eventually, her fingers loosened from around the gun, which clanked to the wooden floor, and my shoulders slumped. What a bloody mess.
“Police.” A heavy fist rapped on the door, and marksmen clad in black armor appeared at the open windows.
I held out my palms but couldn’t raise my hands too high because of the cuts.
“It’s alright, officers,” said Mr. Burgh. “Mr. Nevis has apprehended the shooter, and she’s just released the gun.”
Myra nodded from the floor, and Orlando stepped back.
The officer at the door strode across the room and helped Myra to her feet. In a low voice, he placed her under arrest for the possession of a prohibited weapon and fastened handcuffs around Myra’s wrists.
Orlando wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Are you alright?”
I swallowed hard. “They weren’t so gentle when they were arresting me, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong.”
He pressed his lips to my temple. “At least one of them will get what they deserve.”
Mr. Burgh walked up to us and offered his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Nevis. If you hadn’t arrived when you had…”
“It was my pleasure, sir.” Orlando took his hand, and they shook.
Mr. Burgh’s gaze dropped down to me. A mix of emotions flickered across his features—rage on my behalf and relief that I had escaped Myra’s clutches with my life. “I need to accompany Miss Highmore to the station,” he said. “Will you stay with Mr. Nevis and the twins until I return?”
All the tension I’d been holding tight released in a rush, and a lump formed in my throat. “Ye—”
“Help me.” Myra threw herself against the wall and rolled onto the floor. “Lilah Hancock lured me into her room and tried to shoot me in the head. I fought back and snatched the gun from her fingers. Now, her boyfriend and grandfather wrestled me to the ground. They’re saying I was the attacker!”
Chapter Three
My shoulders drooped, and I gave Myra the filthiest stare I could muster. The witch-faced wretch shot me a triumphant smirk before walking out with the policeman, only for his partner to step toward me.
“Miss, you’ll have to accompany me—”
“She’s lying,” said Orlando. “I entered the room to find Myra Highmore holding the gun, not Lilah. ”
“Which is consistent with Miss Highmore’s statement,” said the officer.
My eyes narrowed. Did he think criminals told the truth? Not even the police in Richley were this stupid.
Mr. Burgh stepped back into the room. “My granddaughter is the victim of a gun attack. She’s in need of urgent medical attention, not an interrogation.”
The officer glanced at one of the marksmen standing at the window. I huffed an annoyed breath. Could these dicks not make a decision?
Moments later, a man wearing an Aran jumper stepped into the room. I tried not to roll my eyes, recognizing him as Detective Chief Inspector Cromar, who had interviewed me in Glasgow police station when Elizabeth had framed me for the possession of cocaine.
“Lilah Hancock, we meet again,” he said in a voice that probably sounded like Sean Connery’s James Bond in his head. DCI Cromar swaggered toward me with a hand in his pocket, looking like he had come to wank and not do any police work.
A pair of paramedics appeared over his shoulder, surveying the broken glass and blood over the floor. The female of the pair locked eyes with me.
Ignoring DCI Cromar, I stood on my tiptoes and beckoned them over. “Over here!”
The detective’s face fell. “Lilah—”
“I’m not talking to anyone until I get my wounds fixed,” I snapped.
He stepped back to the wall and rested against it with his arms folded across his chest.
My nostrils flared. “Are you going to stand there and watch a seventeen-year-old girl take off her top and tights?”
DCI Cromar’s face turned pink. “Of course, not.”
Orlando stepped forward, blocking his view of me. “I saw what happened, and no one has taken my statement yet.”
DCI Cromar gestured for Orlando to accompany him outside the room. Orlando offered me a tight smile before leaving, and my insides deflated at the loss of his presence.
The female paramedic pulled up a seat, while her male partner walked to the window and pulled the curtains shut, blocking the police marksmen from getting a show.
“My name’s Tania,” said the paramedic. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Before I could reply, a female officer slipped inside with a forensic bag. She snapped on a pair of gloves, placed the gun in her transparent bag, and scribbled something on its cover with a sharpie. Instead of leaving to join her colleagues, she hovered close to us and pulled out a notebook.
While I told Tania the entire sorry story, she and her colleague cut me out of my clothes, then cleaned and patched up my wounds with saline, gauze, and bandages. I still couldn’t hear anything in my left ear, and according to them, this was because of a concussion.
Throughout this, the female officer watched from her corner of the room, taking notes. Maybe they would form part of my statement. I had no idea, but at least she wasn’t Lady Liddell in disguise.
The male paramedic shone a light in my eyes for the second time. “We’d like to take you to the nearest Accident and Emergency department for stitches and observation. Do you need us to pack anything for you?”
Blowing out a weary breath, I gestured at the bag that I’d already prepared for my weekend of debauchery. A nightgown and a few changes of clothes lay among the skimpy lingerie, but I hoped I wouldn’t need to stay in the hospital for long.
By the time the paramedics placed me in a pair of school pajamas and guided me out of the door, the tower hallway was deserted, save for DCI Cromar. Bile rose to the back of my throat. Did he still see me as some kind of gateway to Billy Hancock?
“Waiting for me?” I asked with a sneer.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I rode in with Constable Leon.”
I glanced at the female officer, whose lips tightened. The pain in her expression told me she didn’t fancy being stuck in a car with Detective Dickhead.
Tania and her colleague walked at my side, and I gave them a grateful smile. At least I’d be traveling with them instead of the police.
The two officers strode ahead of us and opened the heavy oak doors into the main hallway, letting in the sound of chatter. A wall of ringing bl
ocked my left ear, making me hold onto Tania for balance.
She met my eyes with a concerned frown. “Are you alright?”
With a nod, I stepped through the threshold and held my breath.
A roar of excited chatter filled my ears as I took in a sea of students crowding the main hallway. They jostled and shoved each other, forming an impenetrable crowd.
With Mr. Burgh escorting Myra to the police station and Mrs. Campbell taking care of the cocaine-affected students, nobody listened to the remaining teachers’ feeble attempts to keep everyone under control.
“Stand back,” bellowed DCI Cromar. When nobody moved, he shouted, “Return to your classrooms or I will make arrests!”
I exhaled a long, weary breath, wondering if anyone would inform him that today was Saturday.
The students pressed themselves against the walls, letting us pass. Whispers followed us throughout our procession through the hallway, and I wished I’d just told them to step out through the tower’s fire exit. I glanced from side to side, looking for signs of Gideon, but he must have already boarded Mr. McGarr’s bus to Glasgow.
We turned a corner, descended the half-staircase that led to the academy’s reception area, walked through the wooden, double doors, and out into the cold morning.
Frost covered the ground, and an icy wind blew through the fibers of my pajamas and dressing gown. I clenched my teeth against the chill and continued toward the ambulance, passing a yellow-and-blue-checkered police car and two black vans I assumed transported the police marksmen.
Maxwell and Kendrick emerged from behind the ambulance and hurried toward us with Orlando and Gideon behind them.
DCI Cromar stepped on their path, looking like a white mouse on stilts facing off against two huge tomcats. He raised both hands. “Stay back, boys.”
Maxwell darted around the detective, his brow furrowed. His glistening silver eyes roved my body. “Orlando said you were hurt.”
“It’s not that bad but they’re taking me in for observation.” I murmured.
Kendrick shoved past the detective. “Where?”
“Glasgow Royal Infirmary,” said Tania.
Maxwell cupped my face with both hands and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. “We’ll meet you there.” He took my hand and walked at my side, while Kendrick took the rear next to the male paramedic. “They won’t get away with shooting at you.”
Kendrick placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time to put this feud to an end.”
Their words filled me with the courage I needed to stop reacting to the Liddells and start being proactive. They had uncovered my secrets, slandered me, framed me for a crime I didn’t commit, and now they had sent a love-sick sycophant after me with a gun.
“How are you holding up?” Tania asked from my side.
I glanced down at my arms and winced at the bandages covering me down to my knuckles. Even with the paracetamol the medics gave me, the wounds still pulsed with fresh pain.
“Fine, considering,” I muttered. “Can I bring a friend?”
Her gaze turned to the four boys. “It’s customary to allow only family—”
“I’m Lilah’s next of kin,” said Orlando.
As the paramedics settled me onto the stretcher, Orlando lowered himself into a seat and held my hand. Tania asked a bunch of questions about my health and filled in a form. As I answered them, I stared into his hazel eyes, which mirrored exactly how I felt.
Anger would be too weak a word to describe my emotions. It was more like outrage mingled with a thirst for vengeance. Beneath it was a bone-deep weariness at these bloody bastards. They were vicious, desperate, relentless. I couldn’t run from them, couldn’t hide, couldn’t bloody escape. They would keep coming for me until I did something to end them all.
Orlando’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I can’t believe how close I came to losing you.”
“I can’t believe Myra could have been that gullible.”
“This can’t happen again,” he said.
“I know,” I murmured, feeling a weight on my chest. Just when I’d sorted things with Billy Hancock, up came a new enemy.
“What’s this all about? The inheritance?”
My brows drew together. Even if Father Neapolitan was my biological father and he had once been in line to inherit the title of Lord Liddell, it was no reason to murder me. Lady Liddell had to know that Myra would tell someone where she got the gun, and that would make the older woman an accessory.
I blinked myself back into awareness and thought about his question. “There has to be more to this. If they paid off Father Neapolitan, they could have offered me the same.”
“What else could they be hiding?” he asked.
A bitter laugh caught in the back of my throat. If I knew, I would use that information to destroy those fuckers.
Chapter Four
As soon as we arrived at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, the paramedics wheeled my stretcher into a busy accident and emergency department already filled with other stretchers and single-bed booths. Tania mentioned something about getting me registered and walked over two the reception, where four nurses hunched over a computer.
Orlando stood at my side and squeezed my hand. “The last time I needed stitches, they used glue. Either way, they’ll numb the area before putting you back together.”
“Now you make me sound like Humpty Dumpty,” I muttered.
At the far end of the department, the double doors swung open, and DCI Cromar strolled in. He cast me a dismissive glance and walked toward the desk.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Orlando snarled.
“That’s what I want to know,” I replied.
The asshole pushed his way ahead of the other paramedics, flashed his badge, and said something to one of the nurses at the computer. All four of them glanced up in my direction.
Whatever he said galvanized them into action. A male nurse with gray hair wheeled my stretcher out of the accident and emergency department into a small, white room with a view of a loading bay. It was empty, save for a fluorescent green chair by the window. After plugging my bed into the wall, he muttered something about the doctor coming soon and left.
Orlando’s brows drew together as he glanced around the austere interior. “VIP treatment?”
I pulled my pajama sleeve over the exposed bandage and yawned. “Somehow, I think this is the room they dump the contagious people to stop them from infecting everyone else.”
With an amused snort, Orlando pulled out his phone. “I’ll tell the others where to find you. Want some coffee from the machine outside?”
“Could you get me a hot chocolate, please?” I asked.
He saluted and strolled out of the room.
I blew out a breath and stared out of the window. What a bloody mess. I disliked Myra and her witchy ways, but there was no coming back from an action like that. For her sake, I hoped the weapon she had brandished was an air pistol and not a real gun.
Running a hand through my dry strands, I winced at the pull on my cuts. Why was I feeling pity for Myra bloody Highmore who had nearly killed me? Maybe it was because Elizabeth had strung Myra along, just as she had strung along Kendrick and made him think they had a chance to be together.
I bit down on my lip, pulled a strand of platinum hair and held it to the light. Between accusing poor Mr. Burgh of being my biological father, trashing my room, and Elizabeth’s wandering hands, the bloody Liddells had kept me too busy to worry about my split ends.
The door opened, and I glanced up to find a familiar-looking man stepping into my room. He looked like the archbishop, but about ten years younger. And he wore a white shirt with black epaulettes, each brandishing shiny, silver medals.
I glanced down at the cap he held under his arm, which was adorned with even more silver. “You’re Camden Liddell.”
“And you’re in a lot of trouble, young woman.” He strutted across the hospital room, his pale, blue eyes boring into mine.
<
br /> A rush of anger flared across my skin, and I clenched my teeth. “What are you doing here?”
Liddell reached into the pocket of his black uniform pants. “I came to offer you a warning.”
The door slammed open, and Orlando rushed in, holding a cup of something hot. “What’s going on?”
Camden Liddell turned around. He stood a couple of inches shorter than Orlando but with the kind of broad, softening build middle aged men get no matter how much they worked out. He reminded me of Billy Hancock before the prison rations. Orlando, in comparison, looked like he could fell this arrogant asshole in a single punch.
“Wait outside, son,” said the older man. “I need to speak with Miss Hancock alone.”
Orlando folded his arms across his broad chest. “You can’t speak to Lilah without the presence of Mr. Burgh.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Orlando Nevis. And you are?”
The older man straightened. “Camden Liddell, the Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland.”
I glanced at the man’s pocket, which bulged with something about the size of a USB stick. Every instinct in my body demanded that I lunge for it, but robbing a policeman would only add to my troubles.
Orlando squared up to the older man, dwarfing him with his superior height and build. “What would someone so important want with a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl?”
“That is between me and Miss Hancock,” Liddell said through clenched teeth. “Get out, before I have you arrested for the obstruction of a police inquiry.”
“I’m going to record this.” Orlando placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out his smartphone. “If you don’t want to end up on Youtube harassing a half-naked girl in her hospital bed, I suggest you leave.”
My hands closed into fists, and I clenched my jaw, breathing hard. Was the contents of his pocket the reason why DCI Cromar had arranged for this out-of-the-way room? I shook off those thoughts. Even if Lady Liddell was stupid enough to hand Myra a murder weapon, a seasoned police officer wouldn’t kill someone where it could be tracked to him.
