Page 3 of Road Trip
Before she could stop him, he grasped her wrist and easily wrenched the knife from her hand. Teddy yanked her arms and twisted them behind her back. She felt something, a slash, a scalding rip, and then heard a scream, her own, she supposed, and the last thing she saw was that empty, ornate frame.
Kathleen heard thesickening sound of flesh on flesh, a slap. Now, Fiona’s voice again, but without the posh overtones. “Here! What’s that you’ve got in your pocket? Teddy, see what she’s got!”
Then, David’s voice. She heard the sounds of a struggle, shoes scuffling on the marble floor. She paused, unsure of what to do.
And then she remembered her promise.
Kathleen turned and crept back up the stairs. She sped toward the back staircase and was halfway down when she heard a scream, so shrill it seemed to shatter the air.
“No!” Delia’s voice.
Another pause, and then a younger man’s voice. “Good Christ. What have you done?”
Kathleen didn’t wait to find out. Something bad had happened. Something very bad. And she remembered what Delia had told her minutes ago. “It’s no longer safe here for you.”
She was down the back stairs and at the kitchen door in seconds. Carefully, she twisted the knob to make her escape, but then the wind blew it open, and it knocked hard against the wall, the sound echoing like a shot.
“Who’s that?” a man called. “Who’s there?”
Kathleen fled out the kitchen door, the valise tucked under one arm, the other hand holding her long skirt, running as fast as her trembling legs would take her, not daring to glance behind to see who might be in pursuit.
“Mr. Donovan,” she called, when she reached the stable. “Mr. Donovan!”
The old man emerged from one of the disused horse stalls. He said nothing, just gave her a questioning look.
She was out of breath, her chest heaving, unable to speak.
“What is it, then?” He looked mildly annoyed.
“Lady Delia said…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “I’m to tell you, ask you, that is…”
“I’m to take you to see Finney straightaway.” He finished the sentence for her.
He walked to the open barn door and peered out. “Who is it you’re afraid of?”
She shook her head, unable to put it into words.
He got into the dusty black farm truck, fiddled with something, then the ancient motor coughed to life. “Come along then,” he called, leaning over to open the passenger-side door. “It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t like this road when I can’t see for shite.”
She slumped down in the seat, still clutching the valise to her chest, as he slowly backed the truck out of the stable.
When they were finally rolling down the long, bumpy drive, he took a cigarette from the pocket of his work shirt and handed it to Kathleen, along with a packet of matches. “Light that for me, would you?”
She did as he asked and handed it over. He took a long drag and then exhaled. “Ready to tell me what’s troubling you now?”
“Mr. Donovan. Something bad happened back there. Lady Delia. I think someone hurt her.”
His glance was sharp. “Hurt her, how?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was shaky, her hands trembling. He handed her the cigarette. She took a drag, exhaled through her nostrils. She coughed, then took another puff. It helped, a little, and she handed it back.
“We were upstairs. I was with Lady Delia. All the family had gone off to a party, but now they’re back.”
“The Howingtons’,” Donovan said. “Mr. Teddy said they’d be the weekend, but I saw the car drive up not long ago.”
“She went downstairs, and I heard them… arguing. It sounded like someone’s face got slapped, and then I heard Miss Fiona…”
“Lady Fiona,” he said automatically.
