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She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Pulse pounding in her ears, she stared down the barrel of Dex’s gun. He’d kept it hidden until now.
Seconds ticked by, as she frantically tried to think of what to do.
“Mum?”
The look in Trevor’s eye, him realizing what sort of monster his father was, broke her heart. Her mind raced. The only reason she and Trevor were in this mess was because she’d wanted to keep him safe. She had to concentrate on that. Thinking about anything else was not an option.
“It’s okay,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “Your father’s not going to hurt anyone. Are you?” she said, trying her best to focus on Dex, not the weapon he held.
He studied her for a moment, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
That, more than anything, frightened her.
“Let me tell you how this is going to work,” Dex said. “We’re going to spend the next week cozy on the couch.” He used his gun to motion them toward the front room. When they both sat, he took the armchair. “One of you will always be with me. If either of you tries anything, leaves, doesn’t come back, I’ll kill the one left.” He gave a shrug, took a long sip of his ale. “Not like I haven’t done it before.”
Don’t show fear, she told herself, willing Trevor to follow her lead. He was a smart boy, always had been. He’d learned long ago that the best way to keep his father calm was to not cry, not show fear, and not raise his voice. To do otherwise resulted in a beating.
As promised, Dex refused to let either of them out of his sight at the same time. If she left the room, he held the gun on Trevor. And, likewise, if Trevor left the room, the gun was turned on her. That night, the three of them slept in the same room, she and Trevor on the floor, Dex pulling the mattress up to the door so that neither of them could escape.
The thing that frightened her the most was Dex’s promise that if anyone attempted a rescue, he’d kill Trevor first and then himself, leaving her alive to suffer. There was no question in her mind that he meant every word and so she dutifully did his bidding, knowing that her best hope was to cooperate and wait.
She’d lost count of the time as the three sat in the front room, she and Trevor on the sofa, pretending to watch the game, Dex in the armchair, drinking a bottle of ale, still trying to read the journal.
A knock at the door startled her and she almost spilled her glass of water. She reached over, grasping Trevor’s hand in hers, willing him to be silent.
35
Dex set the journal on the table, drew his gun, walked to the door, looked out the peephole. He looked back at her, putting his finger to his lips.
A second knock, this time a man calling out, “Allegra? I can hear the telly. I know you’re in there. I’m not leaving until we talk.”
Dex, using his gun, motioned her over.
She lowered her glass to the table, walked to the door.
“Find out what he wants,” Dex whispered, “and get rid of him.”
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“Bill Snyder. I’m the private detective. I work for your uncle’s solicitor. I have a couple of questions. About your uncle’s case.”
“Would you mind coming back? I’m not feeling well.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes. If you can open the door.”
Allegra looked at Dex.
It was several seconds before he responded, leaning in close, whispering, “Try anything funny, Trevor’s the first to go.”
She nodded, and he backed up, motioned for Trevor to precede him from the room down the hall into the office, closed the door behind them.
Taking a deep breath, Allegra told herself it was completely reasonable that a private detective would come talk to her. Her uncle was in custody for murder, after all. When she opened the door, she remembered to smile. “Mr. Snyder. How can I help?”
As much as she tried to block his view, he stood about a head taller than her. “May I come in?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
He looked past her into the front room. “I take it your uncle’s housekeeper rang?”