Page 29 of The Highland Heist
Lillias backed farther away, her palm over her mouth.
“Attacked,” he muttered, easing into the chair with a groan. “In the back garden. Thought he might’ve come inside.”
Two warm palms rested against his cheeks, and he opened his eyes to find Grace examining his face. “Where does it hurt?”
His lips quirked despite the pain. “Back of the head. Knocked me out cold. But”—he hesitated, glancing at Lillias, who now looked like she might faint at any moment—”there were signs of a struggle. I think he came back to search for something he lost in the fight.”
Her brows lifted. “You found something?”
“Yes, but he took it when he fled. Whatever it was, he wanted it badly enough to risk coming back.”
Grace’s gaze shifted toward the door, and Frederick followed it. Zahra hovered in the threshold, her small frame rigid and her face unnaturally pale.
He began to push himself out of the chair, but Grace’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. In his current state, it didn’t take much.
“He is going to be fine, Zahra.” Grace cooed out the phrase as Zahra’s attention switched from Grace back to Frederick. Her lost expression nearly pulled him from the chair. Had she seen similar things in her young life? Worse, probably. “But would you mind fetching Miss Cox? I think we could certainly use her assistance.”
Zahra lingered for a heartbeat, then nodded and dashed from the room.
“Do—do you mean that the man who killed Tony was just outside the house?” Lillias stammered. She clung to the back of the chair as if it might save her from fainting.
“It seems so,” Grace replied, though her attention stayed fixed on Frederick. She lowered herself to her knees beside him, taking his hand in hers. “We only parted less than half an hour ago. You couldn’t have been unconscious long.”
He closed his eyes, hoping to stave off the wave of nausea threatening to crest. “The pin was near the back garden wall.”
“Pin?” Grace’s voice came soft, but there was no denying the interest in it. “What sort of pin?”
He opened his eyes, holding her gaze. “Scottish.”
“Scottish?” Grace breathed the word, and he could see her mind spinning faster than her driving. “Frederick. The inheritance? Do you think it could be a coincidence?”
He attempted a half-smile but felt it falter. “What does Detective Miracle say about coincidences?”
Her fingers squeezed his, and the familiar gleam returned to her eyes, brighter now than he’d seen all day. He’d always admired how quickly she could go from nurturing to razor-sharp sleuth.
“There is no such thing as a coincidence—only clues we haven’t discovered yet.”
Chapter 8
After witnessing her darling husband in such a state and knowing he could have died yet again—this time at the hands of some nefarious fiend—Grace decided it was time to set aside her sisterly frustrations and don her proverbial sleuthing hat. As any good detective knew, there was no time for pettiness when life and death were on the line.
Lillias, naturally, had nearly fainted at the sight of Frederick’s wound, so Grace had sent her to fetch one of the servants in order to call a doctor and the police.
And here they were, an hour later, with Frederick stubbornly insisting on speaking to the police, despite the fact that it was well past midnight and he’d just been knocked unconscious.
The doctor seemed much more concerned about the way in which Frederick was wounded, than the actual injury, which simultaneously impressed and annoyed Grace. Her dear husband could have died.
Though, if Grace were honest, she’d had more than enough practice with the impending sense of Frederick’s demise. Several times throughout their marriage, she’d thought him lost to her—dead or near enough to it—and a few more times, she’d even daydreamed about it, in a dark, maudlin sort of way. But tonight? Tonight felt different.
For some reason, it seemed darker, more dangerous. Perhaps because it was her family involved this time.
And the clearer view of her sister’s mindset brought shadowy talons into the present.
Having been away from Lillias for all these months and having matured herself, Grace found herself reframing previous scenes with Lillias based on her sister’s current actions and words. Other moments of similar condescension and dismissiveness. Other times when Lillias had been secretive or even laughed at Grace and her love of books and mysteries.
At the time, Grace had seen them as simple teasing, but had they been more? A jealousy underneath all along? Or had her feelings taken this turn once Lillias felt the sting of her reduced circumstances since marrying Tony?
And could those feelings have led her to murder?
