Page 17 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)

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T HE SUN HAD JUST RISEN ABOVE THE TREE-LINED horizon when Sheriff Rhys Townsend and the rider who had been sent out after him arrived on horseback. The tall, brawny man swung down from his saddle and, with his usual easy rolling gait, strode across the front drive. When he climbed the front steps, Jeff was already crossing the porch to meet him.

“Good of you to come so quickly, Rhys.”

The sheriff doffed his hat as he followed his friend into the main hall. “Your man said you had a murdered woman here, Jeff. What the hell happened?”

Jeff gestured toward the study. “We’ll talk in there if you don’t mind.”

Rhys nodded and, entering the room, plunked himself down into his favorite leather chair. A moment later Kingston entered, bearing a silver coffee service, and poured the sheriff a cup from the ornate pot. Gratefully Rhys nodded his thanks as he accepted the brew and then motioned for the servant to leave the service.

“If I’m going to remain standing on my feet, Kingston, I’ll be needing lots more of this stuff. Some people don’t have any compunction about keeping a fella up till the wee morning hours and then rousting him out of his bed barely an hour after he reaches home.”

Kingston managed a weak smile in spite of the trauma that still held the household in its grip. “Yassuh, Mistah Rhys, and dat’s de gospel.”

As the butler left, the sheriff downed the strong, black contents without lowering his cup. Jeff came around to the front of his desk and leaned back against the top edge, prompting Rhys to set aside his cup and glance up at his host. Meeting his friend’s gaze, Jeff quietly explained what had happened, at least as much as he knew.

“I was just falling asleep when I heard a woman scream. That was about one in the morning. After realizing that it had come from the general direction of the stables, I lit a lantern and went down to have a look around. I found Nell in one of the stalls with her baby. The girl was still alive, but only barely. She begged me to remove the knife. I did so, hoping I could stem the flow of blood, but she was fading fast. She asked me to hold her close just for a moment as if I really, truly cared for her. I did so, and she died in my arms.” He shook his head at the grim memory. “I can’t imagine the kind of monster who would do such a thing. The girl couldn’t have been more than six and ten years old at the most.”

“Did Nell say anything else to you, perhaps some indication of the killer’s identity?” Rhys Townsend asked. Noticeably absent was the rough dialect he was inclined to fake.

“No, she just seemed concerned about her child’s welfare. She asked me to find a woman to care for him.”

“Then she realized she was dying?”

“I would imagine so. She had lost a lot of blood and had grown very weak.”

“Yet she made no effort to name the one who had stabbed her.”

“None whatsoever. She just seemed to be grateful that I was there.” Jeff’s face was grim as he recalled her pitiful attempts. “She ran her hand over my sleeve and tried to smile at me.”

“After she succumbed, what did you do?”

Jeff hesitated. He was reluctant to expose Raelynn’s suspicions of him, but he could hardly avoid answering the question. “I sat back in the shadows for a while, just staring at Nell’s body, stunned by the savagery of her murder. A few moments later, my wife arrived. She had also been awakened. I’m not entirely sure by what. I think she came out to see where I was. Naturally, she became distraught when she saw Nell.”

“Where is she now?”

“Upstairs sleeping. At least, she was a few moments ago. Right now, I’d rather not see her disturbed any more than she has been, if it’s at all possible, Rhys.”

“I can talk with her later.” The sheriff reached across to the silver service and helped himself by pouring another cup of coffee. “Do you suppose Nell came out last night to have a look-see at you and your guests?”

Jeff lent his attention to the liquid in his own cup as he silently debated his options. Though it might well incriminate him in the girl’s murder, he saw the need for further explanations. “Nell came out here to the plantation the middle of July, shortly after Brandon and I had left you and your men to search Gustav’s warehouse for stolen goods. On the porch of this very house, she accused me rather loudly of being the father of her unborn child. When my wife came out, Nell had the audacity to suggest that Raelynn and I get an annulment. At the end of July, I saw her briefly at Farrell’s where she had started working. Then, about a week ago, she came out here again, I suppose to show me that the infant bore some resemblance to me.”

Rhys lifted his brows to a lofty height, but Jeff waved away the man’s unspoken question with a slash of his hand. Long ago he had come to the realization that his friend was very adept at coaxing people to talk. Largely by facial expressions and silently biding his time, Rhys managed to encourage confidences. Yet Jeff saw no point in withholding information about Nell’s accusations. If Rhys didn’t already know about them, then Jeff suffered no uncertainty that the man would find out the truth quickly enough. All he had to do was ask the servants working in the house. In spite of some peoples’ suppositions, no doubt arrived at because of the sheriff’s affected speech, Rhys was neither a fool nor a dimwit.

“If the boy favors me some small whit, Rhys, then it’s because he was sired by a man who may bear some resemblance to me. I’m not the child’s father, not by any stretch of the imagination.” Jeff sighed and decided to start over from the beginning. “More than a year ago, I hired Nell on for a time to make monogrammed linens for the house. I had heard that she was talented with a needle, and as it turned out, I was very pleased with her work and paid her a good wage. One night, while I was asleep in my room, she slipped into my bed and began fondling me. When I woke up and realized what she had been doing, I sent her packing.”

“I take it that nothing of an intimate nature happened between you.”

“Definitely not! If Nell was a virgin when she slipped into my bed, then that’s how she left it. But as close as I came to climbing on top of her in my sleep, I didn’t dare take any chances with her being in the house. I certainly didn’t want to have to do the honorable thing by her. As soon as she had packed her belongings, Thaddeus took her into Charleston and got her a room there. Obviously it didn’t take her long to find herself a man who wouldn’t kick her out of his bed, because she had her son almost nine months to the day I let her go.”

“Do you think she deliberately tried to get pregnant to implicate you?”

“I really don’t know what she did. I never made any effort to understand her reasoning behind it all. She was nothing more than a child to me. Believe me, when I realized who was in bed with me, it was like taking a plunge into an icy pond.”

“Apparently she considered herself in love with you.”

“A brief infatuation, possibly. She would have grown out of it in time ... if she had lived.”

“Did you and your wife wake up at the same time this morning?”

“No, I left her sleeping in our bed.”

“Did she follow you down immediately after you left her?”

“Sadly enough, no. She came later, and the way things looked at that time, I’m afraid her first impression was rather faulty.”

“Meaning she came to the conclusion that you had killed Nell?”

“Exactly.”

“Have you explained to her what happened?”

“I tried to, but she ran away and locked herself in another room.”

“And she’s there now, asleep?”

“Yes.”

“What about the servants?” Townsend asked. “Were they all in their beds?”

“All but a dozen hired men I had charged to keep watch over the roads east of us and to warn us against a possible attack from Gustav, but they were stationed too far away from the stables to see or hear anything.”

“Do you think Gustav is somehow involved in this?”

“It’s my earnest belief he’s in it somehow. I don’t know that he would actually pay one of his men to kill Nell just to cast the blame on me, nor do I believe that he would do such a deed himself, especially now that he has only one arm that’s of any use. With all the men who work for him, who knows what any one of them is capable of doing, given a strong enough incentive. Though it’s difficult for me to believe any of them would actually kill a girl just to get me involved, I suppose anything is possible.”

“Didn’t Olney Hyde threaten to kill Raelynn while she was their captive?”

“He did.”

“I seem to recall that Gustav was pretty insistent about keeping your wife, and now it seems that Nell’s murder has driven a wedge between you two. It could be Gustav’s aim to see that division lengthened into a legal separation or possibly even your hanging.”

“I’m sure Gustav would enjoy that, considering what we did to him that night.”

“Olney Hyde is definitely living up to his name,” Rhys reflected ruefully. “That rascal is hiding out just like a wily fox. Although I’ve heard enough rumors to know that he’s still around, I haven’t yet been able to catch him.”

“As I told you in late July, my wife spoke to him outside my shipping company. That’s when he told her that Gustav was sorry that I was still alive. Olney also said that his parents came here from England when he was but a boy. He boasted about being able to hide out in the swamps. Perhaps that ability comes with the name.” He offered a terse smile at his poor attempt at humor. To be certain, his heart just wasn’t in it. Every time he said his wife’s name, he was inundated by memories of her flight from the stables. “From what I’ve learned since then, Olney knows the lay of the land around here as well as anyone, if not better. In view of that fact, I’m not at all surprised he can stay hidden. The only one I know who’d be able to find him is Elijah, and I’ve already sent him out to have a look around the stables.”

Rhys set his cup and saucer down on the tray beside him and, bracing his hands upon the arms of the leather chair, hefted himself to his feet. “It’s about time I did the same.”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

Upon nearing the barn, they were joined by Elijah who offered some possible theories. “Earlier rain wash some tracks away, leave ground soft for two different pair that come later,” the scout informed them. “Fancy, handmade boots make one. Other not so fancy make second pair. Both men go out back o’ stables and into paddock alongside where horse was taken. Maybe fancy boots chase other.”

“Fancy boots certainly doesn’t sound like Olney Hyde,” Rhys muttered, glancing aside at Jeff.

“No, more like something I would wear,” Jeff admitted. “But I haven’t been inside the paddock in several days.”

“Let’s have a look-see at what you’ve found, Elijah,” the sheriff suggested, “and then, I’d like to hear what you make of all of this.”

It was just as the scout had said. One pair of footprints not only resembled those that Jeff made with his own boots, but they were as close in size as identical twins. The other set of tracks had been made by a man with much larger feet and who overran his shoes along the outer edges.

Rhys peered at Jeff. “Did you get a good look at Olney’s feet when we raided Gustav’s warehouse?”

“I wasn’t interested in his feet,” Jeff quipped sardonically. He faced Elijah with a query. “What can you tell us from these tracks?”

“Fancy boots came afterwards, scuffed shoddy ones. Fancy boots return to stable. Other ones end where hooves dig deep in mud, like when horse carries rider.”

The sheriff glanced beyond the area in which they were standing. “Did you find any other tracks around the house or in the drive?”

“Passage of many feet an’ horses’ hooves leave no hint of girl’s arrival. Thick, short grass on lawn around house conceal too well. Elijah could find nothing.”

“So which pair of tracks do you think belong to the murderer?” Jeff queried, going back to their earlier topic.

Elijah lifted his lean shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe after man murder Miss Nell, he stole horse ta escape. Someone see him in barn, give chase. Maybe true, maybe not. It could be other way just as easy.”

“Follow the mare’s tracks,” Jeff instructed. “See where they lead. In the meantime, I’ll show the sheriff the stall where Nell was killed.”

Rhys waved the scout off and then faced Jeff. “Let’s get this nasty business over with.”

Jeff accompanied Rhys into the stable and stayed in the aisle outside of Ariadne’s stall as his friend examined the body and the wound. After several minutes, Rhys sat back on his haunches and glanced around at Jeff.

“Looks like the girl was stabbed as many as three times at very close range. One gash actually looks like it stopped bleeding; at least one or both of the other two killed her.” Rhys casually scanned the area around Nell. “She hasn’t been moved or touched since you left her?”

“No, I told Sparky to leave her be.” Jeff gestured briefly to the bloody weapon lying in the mulch. “The knife is over there. That’s where I dropped it after Raelynn became frightened.”

Rhys lifted the weapon gingerly. The stains on the gleaming blade revealed its cruel use all too clearly. “Haven’t I seen this before?”

“I take it with me when I go hunting,” Jeff informed him with measured care. “You probably saw it during one of our trips together. When I’m at home, I usually keep the knife on top of my desk in my bedroom to slice apart pages of new books, which, before Raelynn came along, was my habit to read at night in bed. Since I used the knife before the ball to cut a loose thread, I would assume it was taken sometime during the festivities.”

Rhys tested the keen edge. “Pretty sharp, isn’t it, Jeff?”

“Like I said, I take it with me when I go hunting. I keep it that way on purpose. I never know when I might venture out to get some wild game. But then, when it’s sharp, it makes a cleaner cut when I slice apart pages.”

“It’s a handsome knife. How did you come by it?”

“My father gave it to me on my twelfth birthday. It serves as a memento of times gone by. It always came in handy when Brandon and I used to go fishing and hunting as boys. We camped out a lot, and since I had the sharpest knife, I always got the chore of whittling down green branches to roast our food over a fire.”

Glancing back at the dead girl, Rhys shook his head sadly. “Such a damned, beastly waste.” After a lengthy pause, he blew out his breath as if he had found this particular task especially grievous. “Once in a while I used to see Nell going into a church near my office. If I can borrow a wagon and have your men wrap her body up in a blanket, I can take her remains into Charleston and ask the pastor there if he’d perform the burial. I’m sure that would be a relief off your mind.”

Jeff’s own breath eased outward slowly. “An immense relief, Rhys.”

“Why don’t we go up to the house now and have a look in your bedroom while Thaddeus and Sparky take care of loading the body?”

They were just leaving the stairs at the end of the second-story veranda when Cora came out of the French doors of the master bedroom carrying a pair of muddy boots.

“Ah’ll have dese here boots clean fo’ yo’ in jes’ a jiffy, Mistah Jeffrey,” she announced, about to hasten away.

“Wait a minute,” Jeff bade, delaying her with a hand upon her arm. “Where did you find those?”

“In your bathin’ room, Mistah Jeffrey, behind de door. Ah seen ’em in dere when I was a-cleanin’. Sho surprised me ta see ’em so muddy, yo’ bein’ so particular an’ all ’bout your clothes an’ things. Don’t yo’ wants de boots cleaned, Mistah Jeffrey?”

Jeff cast a worried glance toward Rhys. “I didn’t get them muddy.”

“Calm yourself, my friend.” The sheriff clapped a hand upon his shoulder. “You’re not going to be convicted of a crime because of a pair of muddy boots. Now tell me, are they yours?”

“Yes, of course, they’re mine, but I haven’t worn them in nigh to a week. And as we both can see, this mud is fairly fresh.”

“So, in the last week someone could have taken them from your room without your being cognizant of that fact,” Rhys mused aloud. “Then, too, perhaps they did so last night, along about the time they took your knife from the desk. Were the doors of your bedchamber open all that time?”

“Yes, of course. They’re generally left standing ajar as long as the weather permits. Last night was pleasant enough. I saw no need to close them.”

Rhys faced the housekeeper. “Did you find anything unusual while cleaning Mr. Jeffrey’s rooms this morning, Cora?”

The black woman nodded eagerly. “Well, suh, dere was somethin’ mighty peculiar ’bout dat snuffbox I found on de floor near Mistah Jeffrey’s desk. As far as ah know, he ain’t ne’er sniffed de stuff.”

Arching a brow at a dubious angle, Rhys considered the tiny receptacle that she had given him. When he glanced up at the other man, a small measure of his unquenchable humor rose to the surface. “Do you sniff the snuff on occasion, my friend?”

“Good heavens, man, no,” Jeff rejoined with an abortive laugh.

“Does your wife?”

Jeff rolled his eyes in exasperation. “No, dammit, at least not that I’m aware.”

“Olney Hyde really doesn’t appear the type either,” the sheriff pondered aloud.

“Dere was somethin’ else dat ah figgered was kinda peculiar, too,” the housekeeper volunteered.

Jeff settled a curious stare upon his housekeeper. “What was that, Cora?”

“Yo’ know dat wood box yo’ bought Miz Raelynn back in July?”

“Her father’s coffer?”

“ ‘Tweren’t no coffin, Mistah Jeffrey. Ah mean dat small, li’l box about so big,” briefly she indicated the size by spreading her hands, “what was a-settin’ on top o’ Miz Raelynn’s chest o’ drawers.”

“I know the one, Cora,” Jeff assured her with an amused smile, his first for the day. “What about it?”

“Well, suh, ah found it on your desk, an’ it looked ta me like somebody done took a knife an’ tried to pry open de seams in de bottom.”

“But it was unlocked.”

“Ah knows dat, Mistah Jeffrey, but jes’ de same, dey chiseled holes in de wood linin’ de very bottom.”

Jeff glanced toward his desk in search of the chest but found it gone. “Where is the coffer now?”

“If’n yo’ means de box, ah took it downstairs ta see if’n Kingston could smooth out de gouges.”

“I’d like to see it,” the sheriff informed her. “Can you fetch it for me, Cora?”

“Sho thing, Mistah Rhys. Ah’ll go be back directly.”

Rhys faced Jeff. “You said this box belonged to Raelynn’s father?”

“Yes, we found it in an import shop. Cooper Frye obviously sold it to the shopkeeper shortly after their ship docked.”

“Cooper Frye is her uncle, is he not?”

“Raelynn doesn’t want to admit that, but the man claims to be. Supposedly he was lost at sea at an early age and came back to England a few months before Raelynn’s father died. From there, Raelynn, her mother and Cooper Frye sailed here to the Carolinas.”

Cora returned with the coffer in short order and gave it over to the sheriff. Just as she had said, the wood in the bottom of the interior had been seriously pitted.

Rhys examined the box for a moment and then shook it near his ear. “I don’t know why anyone would mar the inside. There doesn’t seem to be a secret compartment. If there is, it certainly doesn’t sound as if there’s anything in it.”

Jeff looked the coffer over briefly and came to the same conclusion.

“I’d really like to talk with Raelynn now, Jeffrey,” his friend said. “Perhaps she’d know why someone tampered with the box.”

R AELYNN LET THE SILKEN DRAPERY FLUTTER FROM HER hand as she stepped away from the French doors. She had heard the sheriff’s arrival and, through the glass paned portals, had seen him accompany her husband to the stables. Upon their return, she had hoped that the lawman would be leaving. She desperately wanted, nay needed, more time to reclaim her composure before confronting Jeff about what had happened in the stables, but it seemed that that reprieve was not to be granted. Already she heard hurrying footsteps approaching her room. A moment later Cora scratched on the door.

“Miz Raelynn, Mistah Jeffrey say de sheriff wants ta speak wit’ yo’. Dey’d like for yo’ ta come down directly ta de study.”

“Send Tizzy upstairs to help me dress,” Raelynn instructed through the portal. “I’m still in my nightgown.”

“Yas’m, ah’ll tell de sheriff he gonna have ta wait awhile afore yo’re able ta come down.”

Half an hour later, Raelynn paused at the foot of the stairs to listen to the low timbre of male voices drifting from the study. To stand before Jeff now, remembering how he had looked in the stall, would be extremely difficult for her. Her emotions were fraught with her own terrible fears and suspicions. As Jeff’s wife, she knew she should have been more loyal and believed him incapable of murder, yet the fact remained, the image of him standing above Nell with a bloody knife in his hand had been forged into her memory as solidly as an iron spike driven into a timber.

When Raelynn entered, Jeff promptly left his seat and, in a gentlemanly manner, came around to hold a chair for her. Rhys had also risen from the edge of the desk where he had been leaning. His eyes followed her until she had settled herself stiltedly into the proffered chair.

“Mrs. Birmingham,” he said formally, resuming his perch. “I appreciate the fact that you were able to come down. I fully understand how trying this ordeal has been for you.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Sheriff Townsend,” she murmured in a hushed tone, feeling the need to reciprocate with the same kind of stilted decorum. The fact that she avoided meeting Jeff’s stare widened the chasm between them. She clasped her hands in her lap, the better to conceal their violent trembling, and spared a quick glance up at the lawman. “Shall we proceed?”

“Yes, ma’am, of course.” Rhys cleared his throat and shot a glance toward his friend. “I understand from Jeff that you arrived at the stable some time after he discovered Nell’s body. Could you tell me how you came to be there and what you saw?”

“I awoke when I realized Jeff was no longer in our room. When I noticed a light burning in the stable, I thought there was some kind of trouble with one of the horses and that my husband had gone out to see about the matter. When I entered the stable, I heard a baby crying. I ran to the stall where the lantern was burning, and saw Nell.” Raelynn clenched her hands and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she tried to banish that gruesome scene from her memory. When she continued, her tone was barely audible, but at least she was no longer crying. “Blood was everywhere.”

“Jeff said that Nell begged him to pull out the knife,” Rhys confided with measured care. He was aware that the couple had wed shortly after meeting and that they really hadn’t had much time to become acquainted before that event. If he could somehow help Raelynn to trust Jeff, then he had every expectation that she wouldn’t regret it in the end. He had known Jeff since their early youth, and it went against his grain to entertain the premise that his friend could do such a foul, murderous deed. If Jeff could befriend cats, then there was no doubt the man had a most tolerant nature. But then, considering his own aversion to felines, Rhys wondered if he was being at all realistic in making such a comparison. “Your husband did so, hoping to help Nell, but by that time, she only had a few moments to live. Can you verify any of this?”

Raelynn gulped, trying to subdue a shudder. “As far as I know, Nell was already dead when I arrived.” She chanced a glance toward Jeff, who had taken a chair beside her. His manner seemed strangely calm, and he gave every appearance of being keenly attentive to her answers. With some difficulty, she continued. “My husband was kneeling in the shadows. I didn’t see him immediately. When he rose to his feet and stepped toward Nell, I thought at first that he was someone else. When I caught sight of the knife in his hands, I guess I must have panicked. I ran back to the house. I’ve been upstairs ever since.”

Rhys reached around and, sweeping the brass-edged coffer from Jeff’s desk, brought it forth and braced it upon his thigh. Having gained the young woman’s complete attention, he opened it and allowed her to view the damage that had been done within the interior. “Cora said that this was probably done sometime during the ball. Were you ap prised of the gouges that were made before this present moment?”

Raelynn was shocked. Though she searched her memory, she couldn’t recall having noticed the chest at all after Jeff had carried her to their room. But then, they had been so involved with each other, she wouldn’t have noticed anything else. “I knew nothing about the damage. Why would anyone have done that?”

“That’s what we were hoping you could explain,” Rhys replied, setting the coffer behind him again. He fished into his coat pocket and, upon withdrawing the snuff box, set it on the table beside her chair. “Have you ever seen this before?”

“To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t.”

“Cora found it on the floor beside the desk in the bedroom you share with your husband. Someone had also left your father’s coffer on top of the desk, where I understand from Jeff that his hunting knife is normally kept. Now, we know that the knife was used to kill Nell. Jeff has verified the fact that it was the one he withdrew from Nell in an effort to stop the bleeding. Since it was taken from the desk, I can only assume that it may have also been used to mar the interior of the coffer.”

Raelynn realized her mouth had fallen slack and hurriedly snapped it shut. She peered at the sheriff, trying to sort the logic of what he had said. “You mean to say that someone came into our bedroom, riddled the interior of my father’s coffer, possibly with Jeff’s knife, during which time he might have dropped the snuffbox, and then some time after that, took the knife out to murder Nell. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking ever since I started trying to solve this puzzle. It just doesn’t make any sense,” Rhys agreed. “Why would anyone steal into your room, whittle on a box and then go down and murder a girl with the same knife?” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and gazed about at the ceiling molding, as if seriously considering it for the first time. “Unless, of course, Nell came up by way of the porch stairs and entered your husband’s bedroom, hoping to find Jeff there, and discovered instead a man who had an interest in your father’s coffer. If that was the case, then the man might have killed her to keep her quiet. But unless we can ascertain exactly why anyone would be interested in an empty coffer, that leaves me without a clue as to what really happened. Of course, there’s always the possibility that the murderer is completely deranged and just wanted to test the blade, first on wood and then on something softer?”

Seeing Raelynn shudder squeamishly, Jeff rose with his usual lithe grace from his chair and faced his friend, having heard enough. “Really, Rhys. Is this necessary?”

Rhys waved him silent as he leaned forward and gazed intently at Raelynn. “Tell me what you can about the coffer.”

“I don’t know why anyone would have wanted to damage my father’s box.” Raelynn’s whisper was strained and barely audible, but in careful detail she went on to explain how her sire had given the coffer filled with gold coins to her mother, that he had died in prison after being accused of treason against the crown, how she and her mother had arrived at the decision to sail to the Carolinas after Cooper Frye came into their lives, and that it was that one who had sold the chest to an import dealer.

“You said your father instructed your mother to keep the box until he had need of its contents. Was he talking about the gold coins inside or something else entirely?”

“To my knowledge there was never anything else but the coins inside.”

“It didn’t have a secret compartment?”

Raelynn sank back in her chair in surprise. “There might have been, but I was never made aware of the presence of one. Nor do I think my mother was cognizant of a hidden compartment. My father never made any reference to it when he urged my mother to keep the coffer safe. When he told her to safeguard the contents, we assumed he was talk ing about the gold and that he would have need of that bit of wealth later on when he came to trial.”

“Do you suppose he meant for you and your mother to use the gold for your needs and to bring the box back to him when the time was right?”

Raelynn was completely astounded by his supposition and yet thoroughly able to accept that it had merit. Still, why would anyone in the Carolinas be interested in what the box might have contained?

“If there’s not a secret compartment,” Rhys offered, “why would anyone pry at the bottom of an empty box?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I just can’t believe anyone here in this country would have reason to search for a hidden partition in my father’s coffer.” Raelynn clasped a trembling hand to her brow, striving for control. She was very close to bursting into tears. She knew that Rhys Townsend was a close friend of her husband, and that he would likely make every effort to direct suspicion away from Jeff. It might have been the reason he was harping on her father’s box. As for the knife, the idea of it being taken off by a man was feasible, too, but Jeff could have also been the culprit if he had become riled by Nell’s demands that he acknowledge her bastard child as his own.

Raelynn didn’t have an explanation for any of it and could only guess at the many possibilities. All she knew was that she had seen her husband in the stall near Nell’s bloody body. He had been holding the murder weapon, and his clothes and hands had been stained by glistening red. Those particular details had been enough to send her fleeing in fear, and yet the sheriff seemed wont to dismiss them in an effort to cast the blame on some imagined culprit.

Raelynn squeezed her eyes tightly shut against a wave of threatening nausea brought on by a sudden, mind-numbing throbbing in her head. “I need to return to my room,” she whispered. “I’m feeling sick.”

“I’ve bothered you long enough,” Rhys acknowledged in empathy and got to his feet. “I’ll be going now, but if you should happen to remember anything pertinent about this matter, Mrs. Birmingham, please be sure and let me know as soon as you can.”

Raelynn nodded numbly and remained seated as the two men left the parlor. Only then did she find the strength to push herself to her feet and make her way to the door. In the entrance hall, her legs nearly buckled beneath her, and she stretched out a hand to the wall to steady herself. Behind her, the front door stood open. Through it, she heard the sheriff’s deeply resonant voice drifting into the hall.

“Thanks for having the wagon brought around, Jeff. If you can spare a driver, he can bring it back. Otherwise, it may take me a few days before I can return it.”

“Stop by the stables on your way out and pick up a groom. It will save you a trip out.”

“With so many guests here last night, Jeff, it will be difficult for me to question them all to see if they might have heard or seen anything before they left. You can bet there’ll be plenty of talk about this incident in Charleston. Since Nell was killed on your property, people will no doubt wonder what connection you had with her murder. You’d better keep your wife out here for a while so she won’t hear the gossip. You know how nasty some people can be. They’ll likely think I didn’t arrest you because you’re my friend.”

“Thanks for coming out, Rhys,” Jeff murmured. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“What are friends for?”

Jeff’s friend! Raelynn mentally groaned, nearly crumpling against the wall. Would he, for the sake of their friendship, allow a murderer to go unpunished?

Trembling, she crossed the hall, mounted the stairs, and sought the privacy of her former bedchamber. Once there, she locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Staring listlessly across the room, she could only view the sheriff’s remarks as a fair indication that he believed Jeff innocent of Nell’s murder, but he hadn’t seen what she had seen, Jeff standing over the girl’s lifeless body, and all that blood on his shirt! On the knife he held! On his fingers! In her mind!