Dupree howled.
Juliette shuddered. She had never heard anything like that cry, high, keening, an animalistic mixture of rage, fury, and frustration.
Jean Marc lifted Dupree’s slight body onto the balustrade and rolled him over the edge.
Juliette walked slowly to the balustrade and looked over the side. Dupree lay still and silent on the rocky hillside some thirty feet below.
“Is he dead?” she asked haltingly.
“If he’s not, he soon will be. He was bleeding like a slaughtered pig and that fall is enough to kill a man.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a monster.” She closed her eyes. “I knew it at the abbey…”
“The abbey?”
“It was Dupree.”
Jean Marc nodded jerkily. “I thought I recognized him. Marat must have sent him.”
She nodded and opened her eyes. “My mother’s in that chest.”
“I was afraid she was. I was on the veranda when I heard the two of you come into the salon and hid on the walk beside the house when he dragged you here.” His arms suddenly enfolded her and held her tightly. “I was afraid to try to overpower him while he had the gun pressed to your side. I had to wait until he was distracted.”
Juliette’s arms hung limply at her sides, but they suddenly slid around Jean Marc to cling fiercely. “He wanted me to see her.”
Jean Marc’s hands gently caressed her back. “Shh.”
“She was always so beautiful. She’s not beautiful now…” Juliette shivered uncontrollably. “She’s lying there in that chest She’s naked and there are snakes and roaches crawling all over her. In her hair, in her mouth…”
“Mother of God!” Jean Marc held her tightly, then gently pushed her away. “Will you be all right if I leave you for a little while?”
Juliette’s eyes opened. “Where are you going?”
“Your mother.” He turned and left the veranda.
Juliette’s palms clutched at the rough stone balustrade as she heard the chest open again. She heard Jean Marc’s muttered oath and then the sound of movement.
Ten minutes later Jean Marc came back to the veranda. “Come with me.”
She gazed at him numbly for a moment and then let him lead her through the house and up the stairs. “Where are we going?”
He opened the door at the head of the stairs. “I want you to look at your mother.”
“No!” She tried to pull away. “Not again. I don’t—”
“Look at her!” He jerked her into the room andgrasped her shoulders from behind. “Dammit, I don’t want you remembering her the other way for the rest of your life. You have enough hellish memories now.”
Her mother lay on the bed covered by a white silk sheet. Her lids and mouth were closed and though her face was gaunt it held a peaceful expression. She must certainly have yearned for death these last days, Juliette thought dully.
“How did she die? The snakes?”
“The snakes were harmless,” Jean Marc said. “He stabbed her.”
“Oh.” She should do something but she couldn’t think what it was. “Burial. I’ll have to go to the priest and arrange for—”
“No.” Jean Marc shook his head. “We can’t be found here. Just the fact that we’re French would encourage them to use any excuse to throw us into prison. We’ll stop at the church and leave a note and money for the priest with full instructions.”
Juliette cast one more glance at her mother before turning away. “Whatever you think best. Can we go now?”
