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Three Hours Earlier
Emily took one last glance in the mirror and left her bedroom. Tuesday morning. The day she visited Millie. Hopefully Hunter would have left a message for her at the shop. Every place she’d gone since Hunter’s thwarted rescue attempt, Martin had followed her right inside and planted himself where he could see her. Thank goodness Millie had a dressing screen, or she was afraid the driver would refuse to leave the room so she could change.
The one thing she was grateful for was Martin keeping his word. He hadn’t told Louis about her attempted escape. The only reason she could fathom for his discretion was how poorly it would have reflected on him with her getting so close to disappearing again. Self-preservation was a strong motivator.
The dining room was empty and from appearances, Louis had not yet arrived. Always more relaxed when she didn’t have to share a meal with him, she poured tea into her cup as the young maid, Cassie, entered the room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Smith. Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Yes, Cassie. Please ask Cook to prepare a soft boiled egg and toast.”
Emily picked up the newspaper alongside Louis’s place. For him to not already be down for breakfast was odd. But as long as she was free of his presence, she would read his newspaper and enjoy her food.
She skimmed most of the stories, her mind already on her visit to Millie’s shop. Hunter’s whispered words when she’d left him the other night had kept her hopes up. Her mind was certainly out of ideas, so for the time being she had to trust someone else to come up with a plan. As much as she cared for Hunter, and knew his determination to free her, trust was still not an easy thing for her. Her history of depending on men certainly hadn’t been stellar.
Cassie arrived with her breakfast and Emily enjoyed the perfectly cooked egg while she gazed out the window at the beautiful fall day. All the summer flowers had died and been pulled out by the gardener. In their place were lovely pansies, alyssum, and snapdragons, creating a colorful splash of beauty throughout the garden and along the pathway.
Today is going to be a wonderful day. I can feel it in my bones.
After eating, she folded the newspaper as best she could so Louis wouldn’t suspect she’d read it before him, and headed to her sitting room.
Too restless to do embroidery and thinking perhaps a book might settle her nerves until it was time to leave, she left the sitting room and strolled to the library. A quick glance in the dining room on her way indicated Louis had still not come down. Maybe he hadn’t even come home all night. If he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been the first time.
She opened the library door. Before she took one step, her eyes were immediately drawn to Louis slumped over in his chair behind his desk. Half his face was missing, replaced with shredded skin, bone, and blood. Massive amounts of blood . . . splattered on the wall behind him and over his shirt. Emily sucked in a large breath and screamed, covering her mouth with her hands. The screams continued as black dots gathered on the outside of her vision then swirled to meet in the center. She slid to the floor in a crumpled heap.
The next thing Emily knew, she was lying prone on the sofa in the parlor. Maria sat in a chair next to her, patting her hand. “Mrs. Smith. Oh, thank God you’re awake.”
Memories came rushing back to her. Before she could help herself she leaned over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor. “I’m so sorry.” She began to weep.
Maria had jumped back. “That’s all right, I’ll get you and the floor cleaned up.”
“I’ve sent for the police, Mrs. Smith.” Martin stood across the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
Emily took the cloth and glass of water from Maria’s hands and sat up. The smell from her own vomit, along with the picture in her mind of how she found Louis was tightening her stomach muscles. She swung her legs over the side of the sofa and stood, reaching out to hold onto the edge of a table.
“Perhaps you should sit back down,” Martin said.
“No, I have to . . .” Do what? She had to get away, had to meet Hunter. She needed his arms around her, would need his strength in the coming days. But how in heaven’s name could she get a message to him? Her thoughts were interrupted by two police officers in uniform and another older man dressed in a suit entering the parlor behind Maria. When had she left the library? Her mind was in a jumble.
The older man approached her, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Mrs. Smith. May I offer my condolences on this horrific event? You can rest assured that we will have the perpetrator of this heinous crime behind bars quickly.” Apparently seeing the confusion on her face, he added, “I am Chief of Police, Edward Grafton.”
“Oh.” Her eyes flicked to the other two.
“These are Officer Mallory and Officer Davidson from the Galveston police force.”
Maria entered with a bucket of water and cloths, obviously to clean up the mess she’d made. Aware of the smell in the room, Emily nodded to the three men and said, “Gentlemen, will you please join me in my sitting room?”
All of them, with Martin tagging along behind, filed into the sitting room. The exceedingly feminine room looked crowded and wrong with several men standing in there. She waved them all to seats, but it was obvious from their expressions they didn’t feel comfortable on the delicate chairs.
Chief Grafton opened a notebook. “Before we observe the murder scene—sorry,” he hastily added when she gasped. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
He licked his thumb and flipped through pages with writing already scrawled on it until he came to a blank page. “Now. When was the last time you saw Mr. Smith?”
“At dinner last evening
.”
“And did he seem normal? I mean was he upset, depressed, anxious?”
