Wings of Fire - Charles Todd [84]
Cormac held the door key in his gloved hand, impatience marking the line of his body as he watched Rutledge take his time crossing the hall.
Then they were out in the starlit night, the door slamming behind them, the lock turning with a click of finality. Cormac came down the steps to take Rachel’s arm, and lead her along the drive. Rutledge, feeling like a left thumb—and knowing that was how Cormac meant for him to feel—followed.
“Will you let me take you back to London tomorrow?” Cormac was saying to Rachel. “Your friends keep asking when you’ll come to town again, I promise soon, but it doesn’t satisfy anyone. Let’s surprise them!”
She had stopped crying, but there were tears still blocking her throat, in spite of all she could do. Ail the same, Rachel wasn’t easily cowed, as Rutledge was learning.
“I—I’m just not ready, Cormac. But thanks for the offer.” She glanced across at Rutledge, a shadowy figure to Cormac’s left. He could see her pale face turn towards him. There was steel in her voice as she added, “When Scotland Yard goes, I’ll go.”
“If you’re sure that’s what you want?” She nodded. “All right. I suppose it never hurts to keep an eye on what’s happening. Daniel won’t give me any peace; he’s insisting that I use my influence in London to get rid of the police. I told him that might cause more problems. But Susannah is in bed right now, doctor’s orders, so he may contact the Yard himself.”
“Not the baby—is anything wrong?” Rachel asked quickly.
“No, just precautions. But try to tell Daniel that. You’d think he was the one carrying twins, damn it! I’ve seen foaling horses with more composure.”
She laughed huskily, as he’d meant for her to.
“That’s better,” he told her, squeezing her arm. They reached the shadows of the wood, and Rutledge let them walk ahead, his mind busy.
“I’ll go to see her tomorrow,” Rachel said. “I’ll even take Inspector Rutledge with me. He’s made the muddle, let him set it to rights again!”
But somehow Rutledge didn’t think that was what Cormac wanted.
He could sense the stiffness in the man as they said good night to Rachel at the cottage gate, and watched her walk up the path.
Continuing towards the inn, Cormac said harshly, “I don’t understand why you don’t pack it in. I don’t see what you can hope to achieve here—combing the moors for Richard isn’t going to solve any riddles. Or is rumor for once telling the truth? You’re here for other reasons?”
“What other reasons might there be?” Rutledge parried.
Cormac sighed. “I don’t have any idea.” They walked in silence for a dozen yards, listening to the sound of their shoes crunching along the road. Then Cormac went on, his voice weary. “What really happened in that house tonight?”
“It’s a police matter,” Rutledge said, refusing to be drawn.
“Don’t give me that bloody rot!” Cormac fumed. “If you’re trying to protect Rachel, I’ve known for years how she felt about Nicholas. What I couldn’t understand for a very long time was why he didn’t love her.”
“Are you quite sure Olivia is the killer? Anne’s killer, and possibly Richard’s?” Rutledge asked, hoping to take him off guard.
Cormac stopped in his tracks, peering at Rutledge’s face, trying to see his eyes. They were of a height, and a world apart. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was just wondering if I ought to put my money on Nicholas, instead.”
Cormac swore, inventively and viciously, as they walked on. Even in the darkness Rutledge could see the handsome brows drawn together in an angry frown. “No, of course it wasn’t Nicholas! I may be many things, but I’m not a fool. I know what I saw in that apple tree. Nicholas was a pawn.”
“She would have protected him. She might well have forced him into killing himself to keep the truth hidden. When she was afraid she couldn’t go on controlling him.”
“Yes, that’s a very fine idea. The only problem is, it doesn’t work!”
“Then why didn’t Nicholas love Rachel?”
“At first I thought it was because she was there so much of his childhood. Like another