A Pale Horse - Charles Todd [148]
“I’m sorry, Sarah, truly—I had no way of knowing this would happen. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“I thought I was going to die. It was terrifying. When the lorry struck the bicycle, I was thrown through the air. Can you imagine watching yourself die? And when I landed, there was such pain. I didn’t expect to live. But I did. For a reason. We might as well tell him, Becky. I want to get it off my conscience at least, but I can’t say anything without your consent. Please, will you let me tell him?” Her eyes were pleading, but dry. As if she’d already cried as much as she could.
Rebecca answered her with a coldness that startled her sister. “I thought we swore. On Mama’s memory. I thought it was agreed, Sarah.”
“You sound like Father, you’re as hard as he was.”
Rutledge stepped forward before Rebecca could vehemently deny the charge.
“There’s a solution here. I can take Rebecca into custody, and let the courts sort it out. The publicity will be painful, but that was your choice when you started all this.”
“Go ahead,” Rebecca told him defiantly.
Sarah said, “We neither of us killed him, you know. He was dead when we found him.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to deny it, but Sarah went on relentlessly. “He’d come to the house sometime in the night. We found his motorcar there the next morning. He hadn’t been there in two years, and we were horrified. When we went through the house looking for him, he was in Mama’s room, lying on her bed, and the room was filled with gas. We shut it off, opened windows—but it was too late. He was already dead, and had been for several hours.”
Her sister turned on her heel and went out the door.
Sarah watched her go, and then said, “It’s all true. I’ll swear to it under oath. What happened next was awful. We didn’t want him to be found there. Not in Mama’s bed. So between us we dragged him out of there and down the stairs.” She began to cry. “Do you know what it’s like to move a dead man? It was awful, but we were angry with him, and all we could think about was being rid of him. It was Rebecca’s idea to drive him away from the house. We got him into his motorcar, found the opera cloak in the attic and wrapped him in it, pulled his hat down over his face, and set out. I think we drove all day and part of the night. By that time we were beginning to come to our senses, but Rebecca wouldn’t take him back. I couldn’t bear to dump him at the side of the road. I wouldn’t have done that to a dog. And then we saw the wood. It seemed like a good idea, and we managed to get him that far. That’s when I glimpsed the abbey just beyond the trees, and I made her help me carry him there. Heavy as he was. She wouldn’t leave him in the nave. It was holy ground, and he didn’t deserve it. So we took him into the cloister and left him there, and she put the gas mask on his face, because she said it was his epitaph.”
He could picture them, the anger feeding on itself until they found the strength to do what had to be done. As the anger faded, a cold reality had set in, but Rebecca was still adamant. He had to be punished…
Sarah was saying, “When we got back to Berkshire, I waited by the side of the road in our motorcar, while Rebecca took his to the shed and left it, as if he hadn’t gone far and would be back soon. I was so exhausted, so anxious, I began to cry, and she told me I was not very brave. But then I saw she’d been crying as well, and she swore it was because she hadn’t killed him herself.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Of course I did—I was there with her when we found him. She couldn’t have been so shocked, if she’d already known. I saw her face. It wasn’t a lie.”
For the first time there was a ring of truth behind her words.
“Why does Rebecca hate your father so much?”
“She was older. She saw more. I don’t know. You must ask her.”
Sarah lay back against her pillows, exhausted. “Now it’s done. Over with. I can sleep at night.” She closed her eyes for a time, then