The Confession - Charles Todd [66]
“He was, until late yesterday afternoon. What did he want? Why did he come here?”
“There was blood all over his face, and his clothes were stained. I asked what had happened, and he said he’d been in an accident and was feeling light-headed. And so I asked him to come in. But he couldn’t settle, pacing the floor. He wanted to know if I’d been to River’s Edge recently.”
“What did you say?”
“I thought it best to say that I hadn’t. I offered to bring a basin of water to him, to help him wash off the blood. He thanked me and asked if I’d bring water to drink as well. But when I came back with the basin and some towels, he drank the glass of water and said that the rest could wait. That’s when he asked me if I knew a man called Rutledge. I told him I did. I was surprised, I didn’t think you and he had met. Next he asked me if I’d given you my photograph, and I told him I most certainly had not. He called me a liar, he said he’d seen it for himself. I told him he was wrong. And he slapped me. I was so shocked. And I think he was as well, because we just stood there, looking at each other. He threw the empty glass in the hearth, shattering it, and then he turned and walked away.”
“What did you do then?”
“I cleared away the broken glass, then put away the basin and towels. I was in the kitchen when I heard something upstairs. A door creaking, I thought, and then footsteps. I believed that he’d come back again. I couldn’t remember whether I’d shut the door, much less locked it. I was afraid to go and see. I took the back stairs and shut myself in my room, hoping Mary would come soon. But of course it was far too early. When I heard someone coming up the staircase, I knew he was looking for me, and there was nowhere I could go. I took the scissors out of my sewing box and got into the wardrobe. If he opened that door, I’d know he was hunting me.”
But her attack on him had been far more serious than a response to a slap. Rutledge wondered if there was more to the account than she’d told him.
Tears started in her eyes, and she brushed them away irritably, going to stand by the window. And then, before he could speak, she whirled around and said fiercely, “Why are we standing here? I’m not accustomed to entertaining anyone in my bedroom.”
She crossed to the door, leaving him there, and he followed her down the stairs. When they reached the sitting room, she said, “What did you say to him that made him come for me? You must have found him, you must have said something, done something.” She was angry with him now. “And what photograph do you have of me? Not that silly one with the orchids?”
A motorcar backfired in the street outside, and she jumped, her eyes flying to the door before she realized what the sound was.
“She’s verra’ frightened,” Hamish said.
His appearance alone— Rutledge began.
Cynthia Farraday was staring at him. “What do you hear?” she asked, and the question shocked him.
Had she heard Hamish? Actually heard him?
And then he realized that he was gazing toward the window, distracted, unaware of where he was looking.
“A motorcar,” he said. “It didn’t stop, there’s nothing to fear.” It was all he could muster.
“The photograph? Well?” she reminded him,
He struggled to think. The photograph. He’d never shown her the locket.
“Sit down,” he said. “I want you to look at something.”
“You haven’t answered me. You do have a photograph, don’t you? When did you take it? Why?”
He took out the locket and handed it to her.
But she wouldn’t touch it, staring at it as if it could bite her.
“Where did you find that?” she whispered, sitting down quickly, as if her knees had failed to support her. “My God, did you show this to Wyatt? No wonder he was so upset!”
“You recognize it?”