“Wiped clean of any evidence.” I touched the side of my nose. “Take a good whiff of the odor rising from that shrub.”
Scott sniffed. “Solvent.”
“That’s what I thought.” I blinked as Scott’s tall figure swam in front of me. Maybe I wasn’t quite as calm as I’d assumed. “You know, maybe I do need to sit down or something,” I said as I wavered slightly, leaning hard into the walking stick to prevent my knees from buckling.
Scott sprang forward, catching me by my upper arms. I squeaked as his fingertips dug in close to my injured shoulder but still allowed myself to fall into his arms.
He might be the murderer, my brain warned me, but my shaking limbs didn’t care. I rested my head against his shoulder, grateful for any support at that moment, knowing that without it I’d have collapsed and fallen to the ground.
I was so exhausted, so weary of secrets and lies and violence, that even if he had been a serial killer, I wouldn’t have moved away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A team from the Beaufort police department arrived within minutes. After collecting the abandoned knife, they searched the area, but found no additional evidence. Not only was the ground too dry and thickly layered with dead leaves and twigs to really hold a clear impression of footprints, but my own scrambling about had also made obtaining such evidence difficult. I apologized, but the police brushed this off. They were more concerned about my health, calling in an EMT I swore I didn’t need. But I submitted meekly to an exam while I answered their questions about the intruder to the best of my ability. It was the least I could do.
Once I was pronounced clear of any serious injury, Scott escorted me inside and sat me down at the kitchen table.
“You have anything stronger than wine?” he called out from the pantry.
I suggested the brandy I’d stored in the upper cupboard I used as a liquor cabinet. Scott brought me a glass, along with one for himself, although the one he placed in front of me held decidedly more liquor.
I eyed it dubiously. “You might have to carry me into the bedroom after I down that.”
“I thought it might help you sleep,” he said, sitting down across from me. “Better than a hammer to the head, anyway.”
“Hmm … that’s a bit grisly, considering the circumstances, don’t you think?” I took a drink, hoping my lack of a reaction to such a large swig wouldn’t convince Scott I was a lush. I wasn’t, but Brent had loved his brandy and cognac, collecting the finer varieties. I’d sampled enough glasses with him in the past to inoculate me against the coughing or sputtering response of a novice.
“Sorry, sometimes I blurt out stupid things when I’m on edge,” Scott said, the humor fading from his expression as quickly as it had appeared.
“No need to be nervous,” I said, wondering if Scott’s reaction was heightened by guilt. If he’d killed Lincoln … Staring into his earnest face, I found this hard to believe, but I knew I should remain on guard. “The police didn’t find anything other than that knife, and with one of their cars patrolling the area all night, I doubt the intruder will return.”
“Too bad you couldn’t see who it was.” Scott leaned back in the chair until the front legs rose off the floor. “That could’ve closed the case right then and there.”
I circled the rim of my glass with one finger. “As I said, I didn’t see anything. I couldn’t even tell if my attacker was male or female.”
Scott sat forward with a lurch, banging the chair legs down onto the ceramic tile floor. “I guess it will remain a mystery, then.”
“Perhaps. But maybe the police will glean some information from that knife, even if it was wiped clean.”
“Doubtful.” Scott polished off his brandy in two gulps. “Well, I suppose I should head on upstairs. Unless you do need me to help you to your bedroom.”
“No, I can manage,” I said, after another swallow of brandy. “But thanks for your support outside. I might’ve hit the ground again otherwise.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Scott stood, holding up his empty glass. “I can wash this if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. Just set it in the sink. I’ll put both tumblers in the dishwasher later.” I gave him a wan smile. “Health regulations, you know. Need that hot-water cleansing on any dishware.”
“Oh, right. Not like my house, where a quick rinse will sometimes do.” Scott flashed a grin before crossing to the sink.
“No, I’m afraid we have to be a little more thorough.” I used the table to brace myself as I rose to my feet. “Good night, Scott.”
He paused in the kitchen doorway to look back at me. “’Night, Charlotte. Hope you sleep well.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, although I was actually afraid sleep, good or otherwise, would elude me once again.
Scott gave me a little one-finger-to-the-forehead salute before striding into the hall.
I shuffled over to the sink and deposited my empty glass.Alicia will probably wonder what I was up to, I thought, as I headed for my bedroom. Then it occurred to me how odd it was that she hadn’t heard the ruckus and appeared downstairs.
