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“Staying at the manor house is for the best,” Jackson insisted. He still couldn’t quite fathom his loss of temper a couple of hours before. True, he hadn’t pushed Deidre in the channel, but he’d wanted to. And that disturbed him. More importantly, he was realizing he wasn’t ready to let her go. That kiss in his drunken stupor four years ago was with Deidre not Charity. That kiss was the reason he’d tried to contact Charity two weeks ago. It had been Deidre. He was having trouble wrapping his head around the fact.
“There’s no need for us to remain on the island any longer,” Deidre said. “It’s time for us to return home.”
“Dammit, Deidre, be reasonable. We don’t yet know who killed Charity. Why do I have to keep saying that?” He breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly, and decided on a different tactic. “It’s not just you, you have to consider, you know. There’s Lori and Mrs. Phillips. If I’m right—and, I’m not saying I am—but you would be devastated if something happened to either one of them.”
Deidre’s mouth opened to refute him, but quickly snapped shut again, and he knew he had her.
Jackson steered her car up Montgomery Lane to the large circular drive of the manor house. Mrs. Phillips and Lori had ridden over with Jo. This was the first minute he’d had alone with Deidre since her tumble in the channel. He turned off the car but didn’t move to get out, instead turning to her. “It’s safest this way. Can’t you see I don’t want anything to happen to any of you?”
“Because of Lori?” she whispered.
“Yes. And because of you.” He heaved in a huge breath and let it out slowly. “I find myself unable to tear myself away from you. When I look at you I don’t see Charity.”
Surprise flitted across her face.
He reached for hand. “I see you, Deidre. Only you.”
She turned her gaze out the windshield, blinking rapidly.
Had no one ever told her how incredibly special she was? Jackson searched for the words, fighting down the chaos rioting through him, trying to convey what he was feeling, but he was at a loss. “Please stay, at least until we know you are safe,” he said softly.
After a long moment, her head tipped in a short nod. She pulled her hand away and she quickly exited the car.
He watched her run up the steps to the veranda and disappear into the house. He put the car in gear and drove back down the lane. He needed to talk to Wyn. And there was the little matter of bringing Leif Mille up to date on the state of the church on the isle of Montgomery.
~~~
Esther, the manor’s housekeeper, met Deidre at the door. “I apologize for the intrusion,” she said by way of hello.
“Why, I never heard anything so silly in my life. Get in here so we can get you settled. Your companion, Mrs. Phillips, and the child are already upstairs unpacking. What a delight that little girl is. My goodness, you’re the spitting image of Charity.”
Deidre gave her a wry smile. “Yes, well, identical twins do tend to greatly resemble one another.”
Esther’s laugh boomed through the cavernous entryway. “Right you are, my dear. Come along now. I’ll show to your room.”
Deidre followed her up the grand, curving staircase and down a couple of different hallways to a lovely room decorated in ivory and spring green, with accents in various shades of violet. “How lovely,” she breathed.
“Your Mrs. Phillips and Ruth are also in this wing.”
“What of Lori?” Deidre asked her, still stunned at the luxury she’d been afforded.
“Mrs. Phillips said Lori would probably want to sleep with you. But we left it up in the air.”
Deidre smiled. “Yes, that’s our Lori. At home, she has her own bed in my room.”
“We can arrange for one in here,” Esther said.
“No, it’s not necessary to go to that much trouble.”
“You let me know if you change your mind, hon. It’s no issue.” Esther closed the door with her exit.
Deidre glanced around. A sitting area, complete with a large hearth, included a settee upholstered in a deep purple brocade with gold and white accents. The bed, with an old-fashioned canopy, was hung with rich velvet drapery that would keep in the warmth on a cold night. She went over to a large armoire and peered inside. Her few belongings were already hanging and her one remaining extra pair of shoes had been neatly placed on the floor. She closed the door and meandered over to an antique vanity. Her brush and matching handheld mirror lay on top, and her scant containers of cosmetics occupied one drawer.
She moved to the bed and smoothed a hand over the immaculate ivory-colored spread. It looked too beautiful to sleep on, adorned with green, purple, and yellow pillows. After a minute, she had an inkling to check on Lori and stepped from her beautiful bedroom and tapped on the door next to hers. She didn’t wait for an answer, but opened it and glanced in. Only it wasn’t Mrs. Phillips room, it was Ruth’s. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
Ruth Knox was sitting on a lovely chaise with a book in her lap. The color scheme in this room was a soft yellow with touches of orange that resembled sunset. Ruth straightened from her lounging position and pushed her cat-eyed framed glasses up on her nose. “Oh. Hello.” She wore a dark plain dress and not so much as a touch of lipstick. Her short dark hair was crimped in soft waves close to her head. A style more reminiscent of the twenties. She wasn’t necessarily a pretty woman, yet she wasn’t unattractive. She was slim to the point of appearing frail. All in all, she struck Deidre as sad.
“I thought this was Mrs. Phillips’ room. I was looking for my... Lori.”
“I believe I heard some commotion a door or two over. Are you staying here now?” Ruth closed her book and stood up, running her hands over her dark skirt. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.” Deidre stepped over the threshold. “Did your things arrive?”
“Y-yes. I appreciate everything you did.” A delicate shudder racked her brittle body. “I truly couldn’t return.”
“Yes, well. As it turns out, the new pastor arrived just as we finished loading up everything.”
“He did?” Her shock was palpable.
“Yes, and there’s a good chance the congregation will grow by leaps and bounds.” Deidre proceeded to give Ruth a detailed description of the man’s stocky, muscular form, blondish, chestnut hair and green eyes.
Ruth dropped back down to sitting. “Oh, my.”
Deidre fanned her face, grinning. “Yes.” She turned serious. “I know you didn’t want much from the house, but—and forgive me for being so forward—did you receive the financial records?”
“I-I did. I was stunned. I mean, I knew my father was frugal”—she looked down at her drab dress— “but I had no idea how much so.” She looked up at Deidre almost shyly. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Deidre went over to the one chair and sat. “I suppose I can relate to your situation. My sister was found dead barely a week ago and our parents died when we were young.” She shrugged.
Ruth seemed to consider her words. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
“Mama!” Lori’s voice sounded from the hallway and Deidre rose.
“I’d better check on her. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, and slipped out.
~~~
It took the entire time for Jackson to drive back to the sheriff’s office for him to realize he was still in Deidre’s 1933 Buick. Disgusted with his lack of wit, he climbed out shaking his head. If anything, him having her car would keep her from sneaking out of town. Her opinion of him wasn’t stellar. She would probably believe he’d deliberately stolen her car even if she pressed him and he gave her the truth. That he was starting to care for her. He’d only known her a week—God, he must be out of his mind.
He strode through the inner office where Dorothea was seated behind her desk, the telephone receiver stuck to her ear, talking in whispers. She quieted the second she caught sight of him and her cheeks turned a decided pink. He swore he heard the name Mille as he let himself into the shared private office through the door behind her.
Wyn was at his desk.
“I guess you heard the new preacher made it to town.” Jackson tossed his hat on his desk and dropped into his own chair. It squeaked with his weight.
“That’s all I’ve heard since I left the cottage. The whole town is abuzz.”
Jackson glanced pointedly at the door, eyebrows raised.
“Yes. Dorothea has been on the phone, chattering in indistinguishable tones. I’m sure she’s let everyone in town know by now.”
Jackson thought of Deidre taking the man’s arm and showing him around in the cottage. When he pictured her showing him the bedrooms, he felt a little murderous himself. “I think we’re going to have to talk to Mille.”
“Who’s Mille?”
“The new preacher. He should be informed of what happened to his predecessor. He might run across something we missed. We still have no idea who was brazen enough to stab a man of the cloth. It seems a little bit like testing the devil directly if you ask me.”
Wyn moved his feet from their favored location on his desk and plunked them on the floor. “I think you have a point. And there’s no time like the present.”
They walked out to the parking lot behind the office. Wyn stopped. “Where’s your car?”
Jackson could feel the heat on his neck. “At the house. Let’s walk.”
Wyn shrugged and they hiked south on Church Road. They found Mille sitting on the front porch of the cottage, drinking coffee. They accepted his offer for a cup and followed him inside. “Did the Council happen to tell you anything about your predecessor?”
Leif Mille’s pleasant features morphed into a mixture of concern, regret, and disgust, which answered Jackson’s internal questions.
“It’s a pretty gruesome scene,” Jackson said.
Leif groaned. “Meaning the mess is still there?”
“Afraid so,” Wyn said.
“Well, hard work doesn’t bother me. Before I got the calling, I was a carpenter.”
A grim smile touched Jackson. “How... handy.”
Leif laughed. A genuine booming sound that rattled the windows. “I halfway think that’s why they selected me to fill the position.”
“There’s plenty of men around to give you a hand,” Wyn said.
Leif refilled his cup. “Do you know who killed him, Sheriff?”
“Not yet.”
“Any inkling?”
“Not yet.”
Jackson drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “That’s why we stopped by. We wanted you to keep an eye out for anything unusual. I went through all the papers in the office here in the house. It’s just a lot of bills. All the personal correspondence has been boxed up and given to his daughter. The church office appears to contain just church business, in the way of files and paperwork.”
“What about the daughter? How is she doing with all this? It can’t be easy for her.” Leif’s concern was real. Jackson would wager the manor house on it. “We found her huddled in one of the choir naves. She’s staying at Montgomery Manor. She refused to come back, even for her own clothes.”
“How old is she?”
Jackson looked at Wyn, shrugging. “Twenty-five?”
“Sounds about right,” Wyn said. “She grew up here on the island. Her father has been here since we were kids.”
“You think it will help if I talk to her?”
“Maybe,” Wyn said. “But I’d give it some time.”
Jackson finished his coffee, doubting Wyn’s speculation that Mille talking to Ruth might help her somehow. Jackson had never witnessed such terror. But anything was possible, he supposed. “Why don’t we take a walk over to the church for one last look around before you start your remodel? We tried to keep people out, and for the most part, we’ve been successful.”
Leif stood, grabbed their cups, and rinsed them out in the sink. Jackson led them out the kitchen door, and up a well-worn path that led to the old gothic structure. He studied the ground around the doors and was glad to note, not much disturbance from the past couple of days. The doors to the sanctuary opened easily and they went inside.
The smell of death still lingered.
Leif walked around Jackson. “Where was he found?”
“On the pulpit,” Jackson said. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the solid planked floors and bounded off the wood pews. Jackson glanced over his shoulder and saw that Wyn had not followed them inside.
Leif stopped, and faced Jackson, his expression one of astonishment. “The Cabinet didn’t say how he died.”
“Stabbed. In the chest.”
“God, have mercy. That’s... quite... horrifying,” he breathed.
“Yes. There is still a mess, though the body has been removed.”
“And you have no idea who...”
Jackson took up Wyn’s standard reply. “Not yet.”
