“You’ve wanted me to make it clear that I am back at Craig Rock. What more dramatic entry back into the world of the living could I make?”
“But—”
“I thought that I would find something—or someone— by keeping my silence. I’ve gone through the papers at Castle MacGinnis, and I’ve torn through the office at Castle Rock. I’ve watched throughout the day, trailed the passageways by night. I’ve eavesdropped on men in the mines, I’ve lived like amole, seeking answers. I’ve discovered nothing—except that evil designs most assuredly do still exist here. There is very definitely a conspiracy afoot. But it seems I can discover nothing further by keeping watch. All that is left is for me to make my appearance and stake my claim to all that is mine. Then seek to know exactly who tries to steal it from me and mine by any means, including murder.”
“Perhaps we should tell the constable everything.”
“Right. Because he was so competent when my corpse was found after the fire? Shawna, I’ve already told you, we must solve this ourselves.”
Shawna sighed. The constable was a good man, good at arresting drunks, good at bringing stray children home, good at correcting youths who might mistakenly think the life of a robber superior to that of an honest laborer. He was not, however, capable of dealing with the machinations of a truly evil mind, so it seemed.
“Surely,” she murmured, twisting around to meet his eyes once again, “we will find some clue in the crypts tomorrow. David, shots were fired. Shell casings will be found.”
“And it will prove that someone was down there shooting a gun in the crypts, nothing more. Hawk and I will find the shell casings tomorrow.”
“But they do prove that something is going on.”
“The fact that Sabrina is missing proves something is going on. The fact that I am here proves that something is going on.” He hesitated a moment, moving his fingers in her hair. “The problem,” he said softly, “is that it seems as if many people are involved in these evil deeds.”
She stiffened. “MacGinnises?”
He shrugged. “Most obviously, not all. You did not know the man tonight. But there is organization here. Remember the man who tried to kill you by the loch?”
“The one who is now deep at the bottom of it?”
“Aye.”
“Well?”
“He was clad exactly the same as the men—or women—who came down to the crypt tonight.”
“In a black cowled cape.”
“Aye. They were all exactly alike.”
“If you’re going to run around trying to be invisible in the darkness, a black cowled cape is probably a good choice of apparel.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“They were exactly alike.”
“So, these people all use the same tailor,” Shawna said with exasperation.
“The two I killed were men. But I think the cloaked figure accompanying the man I killed tonight was a woman.”
“Why?” Shawna demanded.
“The figure was quick and light on its feet. And much more determined to run than to fight.”
Shawna shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything. I was—was trying to stay alive.”
“Umm,” he murmured, his fingers tightening upon her shoulders where they rested. “Tomorrow—or today as it may be—you’re not to leave my brother, do you understand?”
“But if you intend to appear as yourself?—”
“I do, but in my own good time.”