Page 48 of One Last Whisper

He lunges for her, but it’s already too late. I see a look of peace cross her face. Her dress billows around her as she falls backward.

Then she is gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

I sip my tea, but I don’t taste it. It’s still too hot, and I know it sears my tongue, but I don’t feel it. I set it down, and a little of it splashes onto my fingers. They are scalded, but I don't feel that either.

Theresa and I sit in the parlor on one of the three large sofas. There’s a tea service on the coffee table in front of us, made by Franny and Matilda before they went home. They somehow managed to sleep through everything that happened, so Inspector Hargreaves has no use for them, and with Lord Edmund already on his way to jail for the murder of those women, there’s no need for them to stay.

I keep replaying Lady Cordelia’s words to me before she jumped. She said my sister’s name. How could she have known that? I know that I never told her my sister’s name. I never even told her that I had a sister. How could she know who Annie was? And how could she know about the dream I had of being in the hospital? How could she know about the dream of her ghost telling me that I was next?

But she knew. Somehow, she knew.

And somehow, that isn’t what disturbs me the most. What disturbs me the most is what she told me Annie said to her.

That’s not what she said. That’s not whatyousaid either.

I was so certain that I had unlocked a memory, so certain that I had found a little more closure to the mystery that has plagued me for decades, the ghost that—like the ghosts who plagued Lady Cordelia—just won’t leave me alone.

Now, I am left wondering again. What did I say? What did Annie's ghost say to me?

I sip my tea, and once more, I don’t feel or taste anything. I feel guilty that I’m having these thoughts now. I should befocused on my concern for Lady Cordelia. By some miracle, she’s survived, but Dr. Thornton told us that based on his initial examination while waiting for the paramedics, it’s unlikely that she’ll survive the day. If she does, it’s unlikely that much of her will survive. In his own words, “She might be able to make some noises and drink her meals through a straw, but there won’t be anything of Lady Cordelia left. Just a corpse that hasn’t realized it yet.”

Not the kindest way to describe it, but I can forgive him for his rudeness. He doesn’t mean it to be unkind, and he has enough presence of mind not to deliver it that way to Lord Edmund. He’s simply shaken by what he’s witnessed. We all are.

“Bugger this,” Theresa says. She sniffs and says, “Pardon me language, but this is all such shit. She was a lovely woman who didn’t deserve what happened to her. None of them did.”

Strange voices carry to us from the stairs. A moment later, two crime scene investigators in white lab coats pass us. They’re discussing the upcoming Manchester City match, interspersed with comments about girls they’ve dated and girls they hope to date. When they see us, they clam up and offer us nervous nods.

“Seems disrespectful,” Theresa observes. “I know it’s just their job and they can’t be emotional about it, but they could save their talks about football and fillies for after they’ve finished looking through the scene of a murder.”

I don’t reply. I think to myself that if one is to survive in a job like that, one must be able to separate themselves from the tragedy of the situation, but I don’t say it out loud. I am too numb to speak right now.

“Thank you for trying,” Theresa says.

My brow furrows. Confusion manages to break through my shock. “For trying what?”

“To save her. To pull her back inside. I saw you try to yank her in, but she had a demon in her. My mum used to say thatwhen a person really wants to die, Lucifer plants a demon in them that gives them strength to find their death no matter what anyone does." She sniffs. "Cordelia had that demon, and there was no saving her.”

Her lips tremble, and she hangs her head forward, tears streaming from her eyes. “And me, I didn’t know what to do. I offered her tea and soup and the telly because that’s all I knew. That’s how my mum took care of us when we were sick. I just…" she chuckles through her tears. "I just grabbed at the only rope I could see. What a fool I was. Offering blankets to a woman gone mad."

“You did your best,” I assure her. “As you said, she had a demon in her. There was nothing we could do.”

She sighed. “Least we got Lord Edmund, right? He won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”

I pause a moment. I still have doubts that we were right after all. The evidence is there, but his reaction was not at all what I expected it to be. And he could have easily killed both of us if he wanted to. I don’t believe we frightened him with our warning that people would suspect him.

I don’t have the energy to dwell on this right now, though. “No. He won’t hurt anyone.”

We hear more footsteps, and a moment later, Inspector Hargreaves walks into the parlor. He smiles wanly. “Mind if I join you?”

We shake our head, and Theresa heads to the kitchen for another cup.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” he says. “I can get it.”

“Sit down,” Theresa commands. “I can still serve tea even if that’s all I’m useful for now.”

Hargreaves lowers his head. “Thank you.”

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