Something else had occurred to him. Though he disliked the notion of doing so, he peeled back the tarp, picked up one of the woman’s hands, and worked off one kidskin glove.
As he’d suspected, her hands did not speak of the moneyed class. Calluses marred the pads of her fingers, and her nails, though neat and cut short, had not seen the benefit of a manicure in recent days, if ever.
The woman had certainly been of the laboring class. Why, then, the expensive garb?
“More importantly, why did someone feel the need to kill you, madam?” he murmured, gently lowering her hand and replacing the tarp.
He didn’t like this. Not one damned bit. An unknown woman, a visitor to these parts, had been killed—brutally strangled—and her body dumped near the tidal flats.
Meanwhile, Annabelle, herself a stranger to town, had faced her own harrowing, potentially lethal experience mere days ago. Mayhap the very day this unfortunate woman had been killed.
Two dastardly incidents, at roughly the same location, at the same approximate time. Coincidence? Or something more sinister?
He glanced toward the castle as if he could see through the stable walls and fought a burgeoning compulsion to march inside, find Annabelle, and assure himself she was fine. Ofcourse,she was fine.
A far better use of his time was to move the body to prevent his nosy houseguest from making an unwelcome discovery.
He stalked toward the tackle hanging on the wall and set about hitching the cart.
***
The space was quite dark once Annabelle left the vicinity of the sole, unbarred archway. A musty odor of dirt and old perspiration permeated the air, as well. She glanced behind her, toward the opening, contemplating turning back.
Then, she heard Lord Randall in her head again.There’s nothing to discuss.
She wondered if he’d noticed her absence from the castle yet. She wondered if he’d notice her absence when she departed the castle for good…
On second thought, multiple pockets of light glowed ahead. Of course. The above-ground openings she’d spotted would provide ample daylight to the individual kiln pot chambers. As it was barely past morning, the sun would provide light for hours yet.
She ventured forth, her boots crunching into the gravel and dirt floor, and tried to banish a niggling sense of unease. Her imagination wasn’t helping matters, that could as easily signify a rodent scrabbling behind one of the dark mounds ahead, as a man, lying in wait, hidden from sight.
Ridiculous. The kiln was not in use, and no one was about. It was silly to think some random villain might hole up in this dank and dark and dust-filled abandoned mill. As for vermin, she’d always heard they were far too frightened of humans to risk showing themselves on purpose.
Lengthening her stride, she marched on and soon found herself nearing the kiln pot chambers. Extremely low arches appeared to be the only access to each individual chamber, and diffuse light spilled from each opening, though wheelbarrows, sacks of what she took to be ash, and tall stacks of stone and brick littered the area, blocking much of the light.
Her hair pricking at her nape for no good reason, she crouched before one opening in order to peek inside. She deduced the reasoning for such a tight entrance was designed to accommodate a wheelbarrow and a stooped person whilediscouraging the smoke from the kiln pot from traveling out into the larger workspace. It would have been murder on whoever manned the pot, however.
She'd started to rise, when something sparkly on the ground caught her eye. Its glimmer shone like one of the stars Sterling showed her from the rooftop. On impulse, she ducked through the low opening and slipped inside.
Straightening, awkwardly, she approached the iron pot and ran her hand through the ray of sunlight pouring through the hole above. Then, she went in search of the source of the small, glimmering object.
Behind her, a strange scraping sound had her spinning on her heel. In the next instant, a deafeningWhomp! reverberated through the stone walls. Annabelle shrieked and flinched and crouched all at once while a shuddering vibration that rattled her very bones warned her of the walls imminent collapse.
And then, all was still and silent.
Heart thumping a staccato in her chest, body violently trembling, she peeled open her eyes. Dust motes swirled around her, but the walls stood. She turned to the opening to dive through and run for her life—and froze.
The entrance was…blocked? But that couldn’t be.
She hastened over to it, crouched, and reached out her gloved hands. Something solid and quite heavy filled the opening. One of the rough sacks she’d seen?
A faint noise from outside the small chamber reached her ears.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing off the close walls. “Is someone there? I’m trapped. Please help.”
She waited. No reply came.
She would simply have to push whatever had fallen out of the way. As distasteful as she found it, she squatted and pushed. She pushed with all her might, straining every muscle.
