Legacy of the Dead - Charles Todd [100]
She broke off, crying, her tears hot against his hands. “Oh, please, I killed Eleanor Gray! Please go back to London and leave me to die in peace!”
“Fiona, listen to me!”
“No, I’ve listened long enough! I want you to bring Inspector Oliver to me, and Mr. Armstrong. Please—I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”
“If you killed Eleanor Gray, what did you do with her body?”
“I buried it. In a field somewhere along the road. It was dark, and I couldn’t see to dig, and there was a dog barking somewhere, and I was so frightened. Then Ian began to cry, and I shut my ears and kept digging until I could roll her into the hole I’d made. Someone had piled branches and tree limbs nearby, ready for burning. I pulled them over the raw grave and left them there. It was at the edge of a field, near a wall, where no one would plow—”
“You’re lying—!”
“No, I’m telling the truth at last—Mr. Elliot said to me that confession would free my soul, and it has—I’m ready to die . . . I want to die—!”
IT TOOK RUTLEDGE nearly ten minutes to stop Fiona’s tears and make her listen to him. Shaking her lightly, he forced her to look at his face. Her eyes, rimmed red from crying, were the saddest he’d ever seen. Dark pools of anguish in her white face.
He wanted to hold her and comfort her. Instead he said, “Fiona. If you confess to murder, there is nothing I can do to save you. Do you understand that? You will be hanged. With joy and thanksgiving in Duncarrick. If I swear that I won’t speak Mrs. Cook’s name again, will you promise me to say nothing to Oliver or Armstrong? Nothing!”
She said wearily, “I’m tired. I want this to end. I don’t want to remember Hamish and I don’t want to think about Ian, and I can’t bear—” She stopped, shaking her head.
“It will only be for a short time. I have to search for Eleanor Gray. Do you understand that? And if I find her, you won’t have to tell anyone about Mrs. Cook. Will you trust me a little longer?”
After a moment, she said, “I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to see you again.”
“If you won’t do it for me, then for your grandfather— and Hamish.”
“They are dead. I’d rather be dead with them. It hurts too much to live.” Then she pushed him away and said, “Very well, then. As long as you keep your promise, I shall keep mine. But I haven’t the strength to sit here in this silence, alone and afraid, much longer! If I am going to die, I want to do it before I disgrace myself!” She caught her breath on a sob. “Courage is elusive in the dark of the night.”
He stood up. She seemed very small and helpless. He knew how confinement shredded the soul. But he had seen her strength. And he was touched by it.
“I’ll send word as soon as I can. Through McKinstry. You can trust him.”
“He’s— Yes, I trust him.”
Rutledge took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. She took it gratefully.
He walked to the door, wanting to say something. To offer her courage. Or to tell her she’d be safe. But he didn’t turn.
And Fiona MacDonald didn’t stop him as he left.
LEAVING THE CELL key with Pringle, Rutledge went to The Reivers, summoning Drummond en route to unlock the door again.
Rutledge took the stairs two at a time, intent on restoring the sandalwood box to Fiona’s room.
Drummond lumbered after him, far lighter on his feet than a man his size ought to be. “I did what you asked. Now you owe me an explanation,” he said at Rutledge’s heels.
Rutledge set the box in the drawer, carefully arranging it among the gloves and the handkerchiefs. Then he turned to Drummond with his answer ready. The man was blocking the doorway. Clarence, half rising from the pillow on the bed, looked at both of them with wary eyes.