That, and for the killing to stop.
The quiet creak of wood scraping on wood emerged from the back of the house. A kitchen window was being slid open. Genevieve sat taller, every sense in her body attuned to the noise.
She waited.
A few moments later, another creak, but this one of a foot gently landing on a slightly loose floorboard.
They were coming through the kitchen, then. Which way after that? She’d strategically placed herself where she could see the bottom of the stairs through the open French doors to her left, the dining room beyond, but could also see the entrance to the drawing room from the back of the house. Someone could come in that way, or loop through the dining room to the stairs.
Silent as a mouse, she raised her revolver, ready to point it whichever way would be required. Her left hand held her right wrist steady. She deliberately slowed her breath.
No other sounds came. But a shadow suddenly filled the far doorway. Carefully and slowly, she shifted her shooting arm to the right.
The figure stilled.
She waited.
They began to move again, taking deliberate and quiet steps into the drawing room, with a pause of at least five seconds between each footfall. One, pause. Two, Pause. Three.
A blinding flash of light, coupled with the explosive sounds of a gunshot and the splintering of wood, suddenly filled the quiet night. The acrid scent of Gun smoke instantly permeated the room. Keeping her hand steady and her eyes on her target, she simultaneously stood up and used her left hand to turn up a kerosene lamp she’d had waiting on the table next to her.
“Jaysus, woman, are you trying to kill me? Put that thing down!” In the gaslight, Daniel was still ducking, his arms around his head, gazing at her incredulously, his mouth a perfect O of surprise.
“If I had wanted to kill you, I would have. I shot exactly where I intended, directly over your left shoulder. Now don’t move another muscle, or I’ll direct my aim a bit more toward the right,” Genevieve replied, pulling the hammer on the revolver back again. Her heart was pounding, but her hands still felt steady.
“Stop!” he yelled, hands in the air. “May I stand, at least?”
She considered the request, then nodded once.
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he unbent his long frame, still holding his hands in the air. She squinted through the sight of the gun. He took a step closer.
Another blast, and Daniel ducked again as a spray of woodwork from the wall behind his right shoulder rained over his head, accompanied this time by a shattering of ceramic. She’d shot a lovely little china shepherdess she knew the older Mrs. Maple had been fond of.
Well, it had been in her way. No helping it now.
“I always was an excellent shot, you know,” Genevieve informed Daniel conversationally, pulling back the hammer a third time. He winced at the noise, carefully straightening again and still holding up his hands. “But I’ve been practicing with Charles out on Blackwell’s Island for days now, as I was rusty. He says I’m quite gifted.”
Daniel stilled completely. He blinked at her from across the Maple townhouse drawing room, his expression a curious mix of resignation, regret, and admiration. It angered her, that expression.
In truth, it angered her that she had been right. That she should have known, and listened to her gut from the beginning.
“You led me on a merry chase,” she said softly. “And played me for a fool. It was you all along. I know now you had an accomplice, as you couldn’t very well be spinning tales to me in the Union Pinnacle Hotel and here at the Maple home at the same time.” Her jaw tightened as her anger intensified, thinking of the trauma Callie and her grandmother had endured in recent days. Her finger tightened too, pulling the trigger back a hairsbreadth. Daniel’s eyes caught the tiny motion and flared.
If anything, he seemed to still further.
“Those diamonds were all they had left, you know. Half the furnishings in this house are gone; did that never cross your mind? Or your accomplice’s mind? Or were you so focused on greed and revenge you were blind to their suffering, right under your nose?”
Daniel remained silent, his eyes locked on her trigger finger.
“I was blind, Genevieve. I’m trying to make it right.”
From the doorframe behind Daniel, Rupert emerged, hands held high.
Genevieve shifted her aim to the right again, locking Rupert in her sights. “So you’re the accomplice. I couldn’t, in the end, work out whether it was you or your bride-to-be. I rather liked the idea of it being Esmie, but you were of course the most logical choice. Occam’s razor and all that.”
Rupert was shaking his head. “I’m not an accomplice. I am Robin Hood. Just me, and only me.”
She shifted her gaze to Daniel. He had lowered his hands and was staring not at her anymore, but at his friend. Rupert lowered his hands too and shrugged.
“I guess the jig is up. Genevieve, can you please lower that thing? Unlike Daniel here, I’d never any doubt of your skill.”
“Oh, I hadn’t doubt. I just didn’t expect to find myself on the receiving end,” Daniel said.
She instantly pointed the gun back his way, causing him to raise his hands in alarm. “And why would you think that?”
“I thought you trusted me. Partners, remember?”
She huffed. “Yes, such close partners you failed to mention your best friend was responsible for stealing from half the Astor 400.”
“I didn’t know, not for sure,” he said, eyeing the revolver nervously. “I suspected. Strongly. But why would I share that with a journalist?”
“Even after I was almost killed? So
