Pacing back and forth in the shadows, the man said, “Yes, all right. But if I’d killed them, why would I come to you now? Just to bargain with the Army?”
“Why did you desert? Why not go to the police? Were you afraid they would suspect you?”
“I couldn’t go back to France. Even in the artillery-” Shaking his head, he couldn’t continue.
“The rest of us had the courage to go back.”
“It wasn’t a matter of courage. Damn it, I’m as brave as the next man.” Taking a deep breath, he said more calmly, “I didn’t come here to defend myself. Fowler told me it was his brother. When I read the Yard’s request in the Times, it occurred to me that perhaps he’d been mistaken. Both men had been killed at River’s Edge, and I was afraid-the wrong person might be blamed.”
Rutledge realized that Finley had come to protect Cynthia Farraday.
“What did you do with Fowler’s body? Did you leave it there, where you’d found it?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
And that was a lie, his voice betraying him once more.
“Then why was it never found? Even the bones?”
“It was never found? Fowler’s body?” There was genuine consternation now.
“Mrs. Russell also died at River’s Edge. Who killed her?”
“I wish I knew. We searched until we were stumbling over our feet, and still we kept looking, and there was no sign of her. I’ve had a long time to think about it since then. I knew she had to be dead. They whispered suicide, but she wouldn’t have killed herself. It had to be murder. Was it the same person?” The tension in his voice was mirrored in the way he waited for the answer.
“It could very well be. If he’d taken Fowler’s first family from him, why not the second? But we won’t have an answer, will we, until we’ve found him.”
“Then he’s killed all of us, hasn’t he? Except for Cynthia. Except for Miss Farraday,” he corrected himself. “That’s all I can give you. It’s all I know. Just-find him. For the love of God, find him.” He waited, expecting something from Rutledge. When it didn’t come, he simply walked away.
Rutledge let him go. But when he was nearly across the road and just into the shadows of the trees on the far side, yet still within hearing, Rutledge called in a normal voice, “Fowler?”
And before he could stop himself, the man began to turn. He said quickly, “My name is Finley. I told you.”
“I think not.”
“I didn’t kill them-” he protested angrily, taking a few steps forward. The whites of his eyes were stark beneath the bill of his cap.
“I’m arresting you for the murder of the people who gave you shelter and love when you were a victim yourself. Did you kill Mrs. Russell and her son?”
“No. You can’t-I’ll be hanged-it’s not true,” he began, not ten feet away, and Rutledge felt himself tense as he moved even closer. “My name is Finley.” He broke off as an older couple came out of one of the houses behind them, and turned to go the other way.
Rutledge waited until they were out of earshot.
“I suspect Harold Finley is dead. And you survived because he was.”
“You’re wrong. I didn’t have to come, I didn’t have to meet you. I did it for the Major’s sake.”
“You aren’t a very good liar, Fowler. What really happened at River’s Edge?”
The sudden shift in his weight betrayed him, and Rutledge said sharply, “If you run, I’ll find you. No matter how long it takes. And when I do, I’ll hand you over to the Army.”
“I didn’t want them to die,” the man cried. “Dear God, do you think-it’s why I ran. So that it would stop. But it didn’t, did it? Whoever is doing this finally came for Wyatt too, didn’t he? And I couldn’t let Miss Farraday be the next victim.”
“If that’s the truth, come with me, we’ll find somewhere to talk. I give you my word I won’t arrest you, if in turn you’ll give me the truth.”
Rutledge expected Fowler to refuse. And then he changed his mind, almost against his will, a part of him needing relief from the burden he’d carried too long.
Finally, to Rutledge’s surprise, he said, “Where?”
Russell was in his flat. And Frances was at the house. “Let me take you to Miss Farraday’s house. It isn’t public. You can leave anytime you like.”
“No. Anywhere but there.”
“Then name a place.”
“There’s a pub some distance from here.”
“Too public.”
“I expect you’re right.”
“My motorcar is not far from the Yard. We can sit in it.”
Fowler considered the risks and finally said, “Yes, all right. But I need another guarantee, that you won’t ask the name I now live under.”
“Very well.”
Hamish was already questioning whether Fowler would make it that far. Before they reached the motorcar there would be a dozen opportunities to disappear.
But the man followed without a word, and under the brighter lamps by Trafalgar Square, Rutledge could see his haggard face and haunted eyes.
Before they reached the motorcar, Fowler said, “How did I betray myself?”
“You weren’t shocked when I told you about the murders of your parents. No one else knew. Mrs. Russell had kept it a secret from the other two children. It wasn’t likely she would confide in her driver. And you said, ‘He’s killed all of us.’ Not all of them.”
Fowler swore softly. “I thought I could carry it off.”
They reached the motorcar, and when Fowler stepped in and shut the door, he put his head back against the seat. “I’m so very tired,” he said, his eyes closed. “I thought it would never end.”
“Where did you start lying?” Rutledge asked after giving him some time to collect himself.
“It’s true. Most of what I told you. Only it was I who arrived early that morning to find Finley dying down by the water’s edge. He’d been shot in the back of the head. I wasn’t sure what he said to me-it could just as well have been a gurgle of pain. But it sounded very much like brother. I didn’t know if Finley had any brothers. And then I remembered that Wyatt had been a little jealous of me. We were the same height and build, Harold and I. A split second later, I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“There’s something I never told anyone. Not even Mrs. Russell or the police. While I was in hospital recovering from the stab wounds, there were messages from my parents’ friends, our neighbors, clients, general well-wishers. All of it very kind. The police and my solicitors opened them at first, to be sure they wouldn’t be upsetting. After the first weeks, realizing that the messages were actually comforting, they just let me open them as they arrived. A week before I was released, there was one with just two lines on the page.” He stopped, trying to steady his voice.
“What did it say?”
A constable came toward the motorcar, and Fowler tensed. But the man walked on by and went inside the Yard.
“ ‘He was my father and the woman with him was a whore, and you’re my bastard half-brother. I’m not finished. Wherever you are, I will find you.’ ”
“No signature?”
“Nothing. I knew one day he’d come for me. That it was only a matter of time. And so I stayed close to River’s Edge. But I never expected him to attack the others. By the time Aunt Elizabeth went missing, I’d been to Cambridge, and I’d convinced myself that it had been a vicious prank by someone, because you see, nothing ever happened. It had been an empty threat from the start. A hoax that had haunted me, shaped my life. I didn’t want to believe he’d killed Aunt Elizabeth.”
“Go back to the day you found Finley’s body.”
“I did the unthinkable. I stripped Finley, put my uniform on his body, and shoved him into the river. I expected
