Page 133 of Disturbing the Dead
Silence.
Emmett’s voice rises. “You were supposed to take her back to your home for a conversation. This is not your home, and this is not a conversation.”
“On the contrary. You and I seem to be having a conversation. Clearing up an obvious misunderstanding.”
As they talk, we move forward. We finally reach what looks like a door, one that’s strangely new for this old underground place. It’s solid metal, and there’s a hasp for a padlock, but no lock is there, and the door is slightly ajar, with a wavering light shining through.
“What misunderstanding?” Emmett is saying as I eye the opening, trying to determine whether I can peek through without being spotted.
“I said I would deal with it,” Muir says. “Not that I would speak to her. That I would deal with her. That is what I am doing. She figured out what you have done—”
“She realized I cheated on the examination. That is all.”
Despite the echo, I can tell the voices come from the far side of the room, and I decide a peek is safe. I crouch and put my eye near the opening. Inside is a storage room, solid construction, filled with crates and boxes.
This wasn’t just a convenient spot to take Florence after Muir accosted her. Muir knew about this place, might even own it. He’d waited until she was close before he bumped into her on her walk.
When I shift, I can see Florence. She’s bound and gagged and left sitting under a lantern, while the two men talk nearby, out of my sight. Her gaze is on them, her eyes wide.
“Well, that is a misunderstanding, indeed,” Muir says in his smooth voice. “I thought you said she knew everything.”
“No, I was very clear on that. I said she figured out that I had cheated on my exams, and that I wanted your help making sure she didn’t learn anything more.”
“That is what I am doing. Making sure she doesn’t learn anything more.”
“By taking her hostage?” Emmett says, voice rising. “She is my wife.”
“Whom you married only for how she could help your studies. She is a dedicated scholar, from a group of dedicated scholars, all of whom would happily help you if you pretended to support their cause. Your wife would coach you and even write your papers, while you chased far more enjoyable pursuits, like ale and pretty girls. And then, when you finished your schooling, her father would take you on as an apprentice doctor. He can hardly refuse his son-in-law, can he? No matter how terrible a student the lad was.”
Muir pauses. “Oh, I am sorry, Mrs. King. Is all that news to you? Did you think Emmett married you for love? No, you had begun to fear otherwise, which is why you stopped writing his papers and coaching him for exams. Your betrayal forced him to cheat. I hope you take responsibility for that. It is your job, as a wife, to assist your husband, and you did not. Look where it led him. He cheated on his exams and was caught, and then he—”
“No!” Emmett says.
“—murdered Sir Alastair. Oh, did you not know that either, Mrs. King? Dear me. That happens when you grow old, my dear. You just blather on.”
“You sent me to murder him,” Emmett grinds out. “You knew Sir Alastair had caught me cheating, and you offered me a way out, complete with a sizable payment. You told me where to find the tunnel and where to find him. You told me to pretend I came to plead my case, as if the servants had let me in, and then kill him and wrap him up like a mummy.”
“I did not tell you to take the mummy bits, lad, and that is where it all went wrong. I promised you money, but you got greedy. You took the mummy, and the police are now at your apartment, waiting for you. There is only one way out of this. Flee the country. I will help, in acknowledgment of the service you’ve done me. Your wife, however? She cannot follow. She would not. She will be your undoing if we let her live.”
I tug Gray’s arm so I can whisper into his ear. “You are hearing all this?”
“Yes. Can you see them?”
“Just Mrs. King.”
“That is enough,” he says. “I propose we slip inside, and I will divert the men while you rescue her.”
I nod. That was exactly what I was going to suggest. I have no doubt Gray can handle the elderly Lord Muir and young Emmett King. If he has trouble, I’ll be there to help, but I’m fine with leaving the fight to him. Getting Florence out of there is the priority.
I move back to the door gap and analyze what I can see through it. The two men seem to be behind stacks of boxes. The light is inside the room. That means they shouldn’t notice the door opening.
I test the hinges. If they squeak, I’ll need to wait for Emmett’s louder voice before I open the door. When he speaks again, arguing for his wife’s life, I ease the door open another inch. It doesn’t make any sound. Nor does either man notice. They’re too wrapped up in their drama, Emmett insisting that Florence will flee with him while Muir mocks his naiveté.
I pull the door another inch and then another, until it is open enough for me and Gray to creep through.
“Go on ahead,” Gray says. “You get into position to protect her, and then I will storm—”
He turns, and only as he moves do I hear a noise behind him. Gray spins, fist flying out just as a huge shape lunges at him. Gray’s fist makes contact, knocking the shape backward, but then another shadow grabs him. I fly at the second figure. I’m hitting blind, striking out in the near-darkness and praying I’m not hitting Gray.
