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Donna groaned.
My heart raced.At least she’s alive.
But for how long?
What are we going to do?
Every plan I came up with fell apart with the gun pointed at us.
Is this where we all die?
Jonathan continued. “And one of the writers would be framed for his murder. I didn’t much care who. They’re all the same, coming here every year with their airs and desperation, clinging to every word that awful man said like he was a god, treating me and the other staff like we couldn’t possibly understand their lofty literary conversations.
“But then you all decided to play detective. And at first, it was going smoothly, all the writers bickering and blaming each other, as I knew they would do. But then I realized that you were getting closer to figuring things out. I didn’t plan for Mina Wilde and her three boyfriends to solve the crime. Silly Fergus gave me away.” He stepped over Donna’s prone body and advanced on us. “But now, that leaves me with a problem. What exactly am I to do with the four of you?”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
“You’re not doing anything,” Heathcliff growled. He and Morrie surged forward, aiming for Jonathan, hoping their combined bulk would take the murderer by surprise.
“No,” I cried out. One of them would be shot—
But, to my shock, Jonathan didn’t fire. Instead, he darted across the room and out the main door. Fergus whimpered as he was dragged along behind him. Heathcliff lunged at the door, but Jonathan slammed it shut behind him. I heard a click and knew that he’d locked it from the other side.
“Sorry to do this to such lovely people,” he yelled through the wall, and I thought he really was sorry. “But I can’t have you blabbing to the police. It all has to be neat and tidy, you see.”
Heathcliff banged his fist on the door. “You let us out of this room this instant!”
“No can do, I’m afraid. You can rage all you like, but in a few minutes, you won’t feel a thing.”
My blood stilled in my veins.
What’s he talking about?
“Don’t worry, it’s a peaceful way to go. I’ve redirected natural gas from the heating into the old vents in this room. It’s a common issue in old houses like this – a gas leak goes undetected until someone locks a door. I’ve sealed the secret passage shut, so you can’t escape there. By the time the police arrive at the castle, it will be too late for all of you.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
“He’s going to gas us!” I gasped.
Warm arms went around me as Morrie pulled me into his chest. Heathcliff hammered on the door, yelling for one of the guests or staff to let us out, but I’m guessing that Jonathan found a way to keep them all away from this part of the castle.
I don’t want to go out like this. I don’t want to die.
“Donna, can you hear me?” Quoth bent over her prone body, trying to rouse her. “It’s no good. She’s not waking up.”
In the hallway, Jonathan whistled, and I could hear Fergus barking as Jonathan dragged him away.
My lungs contracted. How long had Jonathan been pumping natural gas into the room? He probably turned it on the moment he got outside. Maybe even before.
How long did we have left?
Heathcliff moved to the windows, slamming his fist into the glass. “Some bastard has covered the glass in security bars,” he growled. “We’re not getting out through here.”
Morrie pulled me across the room. He tried to get the secret passage to open again, but whatever Jonathan had done to it, it was sealed shut. He picked up his sword from where he’d discarded it on the rug. “I can try using this to smash through the wall, but we don’t have much time.”
“I vote for smashing.”
Morrie swung his sword at the wall. I coughed as plaster dust went up my nose. Or was it my airways filling with the gas?
