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“There is another body?” Jeb asked with a frown.
Marcus nodded. “In the woods.”
“Show me,” Jeb ordered, and stalked out of the kitchen before he demanded answers from Delilah himself.
Minutes later, they drew to a stop beside the body. Marcus leaned down and lifted his jacket off the dead man’s face. Jeb cursed.
“Do you know him?” Marcus asked, covering the man over again.
“Yes, I do.” Jeb sighed and turned back to the house. He didn’t want to be gone too long. He wanted to see the doctor before he left. “Let’s go.”
Marcus didn’t get the chance to ask him anything else. The speed in which Jeb raced through the woods toward the house left him breathless, and he considered himself fit. He didn’t think Jeb’s haste had anything to do with his desire to question Delilah. His friend needed to get back to find out how Sophia was.
Panting, he caught up with him in the kitchen where they found Barnaby still trying to get Delilah to talk.
“You were seen trying to strangle your relative on the outskirts of those woods. Now there is also a man lying a little further into those woods, who has also been strangled at some time this morning. Unless there are two stranglers running around these parts, you are the one who is going to be held responsible for his killing too,” Barnaby warned her.
“I didn’t kill him,” she protested. “Look, I don’t know who you are to come into my house like this, but I am not speaking to you about anything.”
“You are going to,” Jeb snarled. “This isn’t your house either, Delilah. It is one of the reasons why you have not been able to throw Sophia out. It belongs to her father. Sophia told me. If anyone should be tossed out on their ear it should be you. I work for the government, or at least a crime fighting part of it run by the War Office. If we say you go to jail then off to jail you go. You tried to kill Sophia. Why, for God’s sake?”
He might have considered that Delilah had wanted to kill Sophia so she could steal from the Squire, but after finding the body in the woods he knew that theory didn’t have any credibility. His eyes met Delilah’s. In the depths of that calm gaze, Jeb saw nothing but defiant arrogance and suspected that her fate still hadn’t dawned on Delilah. It made him all the more determined to inform her of what awaited her, especially when she made no attempt to answer him.
“Do you know something? Prison is too good for the likes of you. I think you will enjoy getting up at dawn to wash out your dingy cell, which will have no more than one small barred window in it. You will empty your bucket and dress. Your breakfast will be meagre at best after which you will go to sew bags, work in the jail’s laundry room, or sweep and clean the corridors. If you don’t do that you will have to undertake some other laborious work you will stay at until sunset when you will be given another meal and confined to your cell for the night. You have no candles, nothing but a blanket, enough food to survive on but no more, absolutely no freedom with which to go where you want when you want, and will be beaten if you don’t comply. It is harsh. It is cruel. It is mercilessly cold because your cells won’t have a nice, cosy fire. There is nothing but bare walls and stone floors. Your jailer will decide if you are allowed out of it or not. If not, then you stay within those frozen confines all day, with nothing more than a few feet to move about in. You will be allowed out once a week to exercise, and will have to wash communally. There is a bath once a month if you are lucky, and you are not likely to ever be released. As far as I am concerned, that is still too good for you. I shall have no greater pleasure than making sure your stay there is even worse than that,” he promised in a voice that was as cold and as merciless as Delilah.
“You are lying,” Delilah whispered.
“No, he is not,” Barnaby drawled. “That is the harsh reality of prison life. But I am sure you will get used it.”
“How can you make that worse?” she challenged, some of her arrogance now replaced with horror.
“I can make sure you get solitary confinement.” Jeb stared at her. “Just think of it,” he taunted. “There will be nobody to speak to; to hear you moan, or give a damn whether you are alive or dead. You can stay that way throughout your entire sentence. Just think, Delilah, never speaking to anybody again. Given the risk you pose to the other convicts, the jail will have no qualms about agreeing to our request that you stay away from everyone else. Unfortunately, in prison, the only way to do that is to keep you in your cell – alone.”
It was enough to secure her compliance.
“I didn’t kill the man in the woods,” she whispered. “I swear it wasn’t me. I-I don’t even know who he is.”
If he was honest, although he now despised the woman, and wouldn’t trust her as far as he could spit, he suspected that she hadn’t murdered the Squire. The odds didn’t stack up that she could kill a man. She was outclassed in size and strength, and not maniacal enough.
“Why Sophia? She is your relation, Delilah. Does that not mean anything to you?” Barnaby growled.
He stopped forward when he saw anger flash in Jeb’s eyes, and knew his colleague’s emotional connection to the woman fighting for survival upstairs meant that he was far from rational toward her tormentor. There was no knowing what Jeb was apt to do if Delilah challenged him in any way. It was best if he was able to keep his mind on his work, and focus on what the Star Elite needed to do to get the woman put behind bars for her attempted murder. However, he also knew that his friend needed to vent a little fury, and if scaring the woman into talking was Jeb’s way of doing that then as far as Barnaby was concerned he could terrify the woman.
“Tell me!” Jeb roared when at first Delilah didn’t speak. He thumped the table with a beefy fist and leaned forward when Delilah jumped back.
“I am fed up of her poking her nose into everything and refusing to go home,” she snapped coldly.
There was nothing but condescension in her eyes and that irked Jeb. He had to draw upon all of his experience with the Star Elite to keep his mind focused on defeating the enemy; in this case, Delilah.
“She has come to see you,” Jeb snarled. “I have to say that you have been a less than gracious hostess.”
“I didn’t invite her,” Delilah all but shouted. “The damned fool girl just turned up one day with her bags and helped herself to my house. I didn’t want her here. Why would I?”
“You invited her in the letters you wrote to her,” Jeb protested. He knew Sophia well enough to know she wasn’t the kind of person who would just impose on anybody.
“Pah! Rubbish,” she scoffed. “I did nothing m
ore than mention in passing that should she happen this way she would be welcome to call upon me. At no point did we make any official arrangements, nor did I ever extend the invite to include an overnight stay. The stupid woman has practically taken over the whole house. I have done my damnedest to get her to go. I have been rude, churlish, and often unkind, but she just won’t take the hint.”
