And she was. But she teetered dangerously on the coffin’sedge before finally managing an almost silent leap to the ground.
The weight did her in, though. She fell, with EdithGreenbriar atop her.
For a moment, she lay still and silent, listening. She couldhear bits of movement. Clark Brighton was still in the mire of the catacombssomewhere.
She had to keep quiet. Find a weapon, bide her time.
Andre would come. He would have checked on her last phonecall, and he’d have gone to or talked to Benjamin Turner.
He was near. He had to be.
She eased herself out from under the body of EdithGreenbriar.
Cutting a piece of material from her sweater, she pressed itagainst the puncture wounds on the woman’s neck.
She didn’t know if it was enough.
She grabbed the woman’s wrist to check for a pulse, hopingshe wasn’t desperately trying to save a corpse.
Miraculously, she found it. The tiniest hint of life.
But she needed help fast. Edith required medical care.Immediately.
Very carefully, Cheyenne came to her feet and looked around.She needed a weapon other than the tiny blade in her cross. Using that wouldrequire her to get closer than she felt comfortable with.
Suddenly, she saw something she never expected to see. Afigure, but not that of her captor. It was Lady Elizabeth, coming through thedoorway of the room. She held a finger to her lips, signaling for Cheyenne toremain quiet, but pointed at the coffin near her.
Cheyenne moved closer and glanced down. The corpse insidewas mostly decayed. And his bones…
She couldn’t do it.
Hell, yes, she could.
She glanced up to thank the ghost, but she was once again alonein the chamber with Edith. Elizabeth Miller was nowhere to be seen.
Cheyenne’s decision for whether or not to desecrate a corpseto get herself out of this mess was made almost instantly because, even as shepondered it, Clark Brighton came walking into that section of the catacombs.
He startled when he saw her, but carried that same gold golfclub he’d used to deck her before.
* * * *
“So, who is it? What the hell is going on?” Birminghamdemanded, glancing at Andre.
“Clark Brighton,” Andre said.
“That old—?”
“Not that old. Strong. And powerful. And he lives in the newapartments. He might have stumbled upon the crypt or catacombs or whatever atsome point, or he might have found the original plans and compared them to whatwas built…or watched one of Benjamin Turner’s Internet shows and found out thatway. Who knows? But it’s perfect. I just wonder if…”
“If?”
Andre looked at Birmingham.
“I wonder if he is working alone.”
“Don’t you be looking at me that way!” Birmingham saidexplosively. “No way in bloody hell would I ever think to hurt another livingsoul. Sir—”
“Hey, stop! I wasn’t referring to you. Here’s the thing.Somehow, Clark Brighton knew you pretended to be the tour guide to meet us.”
“Now, there you go again. Michael Adair is as fine aninspector as I have ever known. There is no cause—”
“I didn’t suggest Inspector Adair, either. I believe ClarkBrighton followed us and saw you. But I still wonder if he’s in this alone.”
Birmingham was silent.
They had reached the apartments. Others followed behindthem. Some of Birmingham’s men were already moving to the building itself.
“He could have carried it off. He’s a big man, a powerful one.It’s easy enough to take a small woman. And, as you learned, he’s easy totrust.”
“He wanted us all to believe Satanists were at work, buthe’s the leader of beauty and peace and softness in the air. I fell for thebastard’s bullshit.”
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“Pretty damned sure. But we’ll find out soon enough. We willfind Cheyenne, and we’ll find her soon.”
Birmingham fell silent.
Andre knew the man was hoping that they found her alive.
“Well, he usually displays his victims one at a time, and wehaven’t come upon Edith Greenbriar’s body yet,” Birmingham said. Then hewinced.
Finding another woman dead was a bitter thought.
“I’m still wondering about…the other women. Except forSheila, they were held for a time before they were found. That makes me thinktwo people might have been involved, as well. One who was impatient, and onewho was not.”
“And Clark Brighton—”
“He liked the process. Keeping the women, draining them slowly.”
“So, the unknown accomplice killed Sheila?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly. You’re right,” Birmingham said.
As they talked, they studied the terrain and the maps. AndAndre thought he’d been heading in the right direction, but…
As he looked up, he saw something. A figure moved in thefog—at least, he thought he saw something—but then it disappeared as if it hadvanished into thin air.
Or fell into the earth.
Another, dimmer figure followed but didn’t disappear.Instead, it came closer.
And Andre saw her, saw her clearly. It was Lady ElizabethMiller, and she was beckoning madly, pointing to the place where the otherperson had disappeared.
Andre started to run.
“Hey!” Birmingham called.
“There, by the tree! There’s a bush by it that’s…crooked.It’s probably where a foundation should have been started. Come on!”
* * * *
“Well, look at you, Miss Bloody Hot-Stuff American agent!”Clark Brighton said, smiling—apparently not displeased that she had worked herway down, likely happy to have a go at her again.
“You bloody bastard!” she yelled. “All talk of the air andthe earth and goodness and light. You knew damned well the screams and moansyou heard were your victims. And you hoped the police would go crazy right inthe cemetery.”
He smiled. “They did.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“Loved it! Loved talking to the good Inspectors Birminghamand Adair and letting them know what a harmless idiot I was.”
“They aren’t fools, Mr. Brighton. You were on their suspectlist.”
He frowned at that. “Bloody idiots.”
“Again, I beg to differ. They were on to you, which is why wewere on to you.”
“A little too late, though, eh, missy? I’d like to take sometime with you, but…ah, well, upside down, bleeding out, you might not be soclever. How is our Miss Greenbriar doing? Is
