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Moss’s gaze slid to Clementine.
“I am not going,” Clementine objected. “I don’t care what you say. I am not going to sit at home on my own while you all wait for a killer to appear. I am staying.”
“What do we do with that cake?” the Captain asked.
“It has to go to the doctor who is looking at the fruit cake I had,” Moss replied.
“I have locked the back door,” Clementine assured them.
“It is strange to think that something so seemingly innocent could take so many lives,” Clementine whispered, eyeing Moss’s great coat thoughtfully.
“Just be thankful that we don’t like the damned stuff,” Cameron growled. “Or we could be next.”
Moss sighed and began to pace the room.
“Do you have any idea who might be doing this?” Rory asked him.
Moss stared blankly out of the window for a few moments before nodding.
“Who?” Clementine demanded.
Moss sighed and looked at her. “I am not going to say right now, not least because I don’t want you to treat the killer any differently. What we are going to do is set a little trap for our cold-hearted murderer, and they are going to walk straight into it.”
Clementine and Cameron looked blankly at each other.
“Don’t you think we should know which of the people walking amongst us is a killer?” Cameron scowled.
“No. Because you will be angry and inclined to behave differently toward them. It is important that everybody carries on as they are and treats this person the same as you always have,” Moss growled.
“It is one of the committee?” the Captain demanded.
Moss nodded. “Let me think about it for a while. The killer has just taken another victim’s life, so we have a day or two before they try to kill their next victim. Hopefully, we can set this trap before they kill again.”
With that, everyone left Moss to his thoughts. Clementine gazed absently into the fire and contemplated all the committee members a little more suspiciously, but couldn’t really think of any credible motive any of them might have. What did strike her was that there was absolutely nobody she could remove from suspicion.
“What’s that?” Cameron asked several hours later.
Moss leaned forward and listen to the latch on the back door lift several times. Someone was trying to get into the house. He motioned to everyone to remain quiet and then went into the kitchen. The key the killer used turned the lock with a dull click before turning back again as the murderer tried to gain entrance. Moss slowly eased the bolt back while the noise he made was muffled by the rattling of the latch.
“What are you doing?” Clementine breathed. Her eyes widened with the horrifying thought that he might let the killer into the house.
Cameron placed a finger ov
er his lips and scowled at her. Clementine threw him a dark look back. By the time she turned back to Moss, he had slid the bolt back and had one hand on the latch. He yanked the door open with a swiftness that was startling only to find the intruder already half-way down the garden. Without a word, Moss bolted out of the door and charged outside.
Although Clementine didn’t see it, Moss’s target glanced back in panic when they realised that they were not alone. Moss saw enough to have his suspicions confirmed. Fury flooded him and he determinedly lengthened his stride. He watched the figure randomly dart this way and that as if trying to confuse him and knew that the murderer had no idea that when they had looked back, Moss had gotten a good look at the face.
“Damn you,” he snarled.
Deep in the back of his mind, Moss wondered what Clementine was going to make of it all when she discovered who the killer was. He could only be sorry that she had to face the horrifying truth of it, but there was nothing he could do.
The damned facts have been staring me in the face all the blasted time and I missed them because I am distracted by Clementine.
Surprisingly, the figure seemed to head straight toward Clementine’s house. Did they expect her to be at home? Was the figure trying to warn Moss that Clementine would be next, or trying to send some other message? Cursing fluidly, Moss lengthened his stride even more and began to narrow the distance between him and the killer.
“Damn it,” he hissed when the figure cleared the field and raced for the woods unabated.
Moss eyed the denser woods beyond the field and suspected that if the killer reached it, he wouldn’t stand a chance of catching them. Still, there was nothing he could do except run for his life and hope for a miracle.
