Page 59 of The Highland Heist
The older man, Jim, turned and his annoyance transformed into shock.
What was wrong with these men? “Could you help me?” His voice cracked, hoarse from disuse, his throat sore.
The younger man’s eyes widened in shock before his body gave way, collapsing in a faint beside the table.
After giving a look at Sam and taking a deep breath, the older man stood. “Well, they got you wrong, didn’t they?” He grabbed the lantern off the table, his yellow smile spreading in welcome amidst the eerie half-shadows.
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I’d ‘spect not.” Jim lumbered forward, stepping over his unconscious partner with a dismissive glance, his wrinkled grin half in shadow, half in lantern light. “And you’ll have to forgive Sam.”
Jim’s movements sent the lantern light swaying the shadows in the room to an almost dizzying amount. The boxes on all sides shook a little. What were they? “Forgive him? Why?”
Jim shrugged a shoulder, grin crooking. “It’s the first time he’s ever seen somebody rise from the dead.”
“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “What are you talking about?”
“I’d say you’ve either been sick or hurt badly to be in this place.” He lifted his lantern as he grew nearer. “What’s your name?”
“Name?” His head felt strange, the room a contrast of blurry and odd, but something began to dawn in the back of his mind. An inexplicable type of dread to add to the cold. He sifted through his foggy thoughts for the answer. “My name’s Anthony Dixon.”
“Well, Anthony Dixon, you’re not the first I’ve seen wake up in this place. Not often, thank God, but more than anyone should know.” He chuckled, the light growing brighter as he came to stand directly in front of Tony. “At least we found out before you went in the ground.”
“What?” Tony gave his head a shake, his shoulder aching so deeply, he looked down to assess the problem only to himself shirtless except for the bandages twisted across his chest. His gaze rose, vision clearing on the nearest box.
Wait a moment. That wasn’t a box.
And this place wasn’t a hospital. The chill in his bones intensified. “Where am I?”
Jim shrugged a shoulder, his expression partly consolatory and partly amused. “Prepare for a shock, mister.”
A shock. Tony was already trembling from the cold and the weakness that seemed to seep within every part of his body.
Maybe he didn’t want an answer, because he already knew, and voicing the truth would only make the nightmare real.
“You, Mr. Dixon, are sitting inside your own coffin in the morgue cellar.”
As the words hit slow comprehension, the weakness overtook Tony all over again and with one last look at the older man, all went dark.
Chapter 15
Every facet of time fought against their trek to the Clarion Hotel, almost as if it knew the outcome as much as Frederick. Evening shadows stretched long and sharp against the gas-lit streets, lending an air of foreboding that seemed to seep into his bones.
If something had happened to Mr. Barclay, it would confirm the worst—that someone was indeed after Grace and Lillias’ inheritance. But if they reached him in time, perhaps they could secure not only the inheritance but also catch Tony’s killer and Mrs. Lindsay’s assailant in the process.
If …
As he took the steps up to the main entrance of the ornate building, he tugged Grace’s hand a little more tightly through his arm. Johnson had advised Grace to stay behind at the house, a very reasonable request for any other woman.
But his wife was no stranger to the consequences fraught with the darker side of human nature, and having her be a part of any investigation fit their relationship, especially after all the practice they’d had.
Despite the desire to keep her safe always gnawing at the back of his mind, Frederick couldn’t imagine engaging in these situations without her.
The air in the lobby of the Clarion smelled faintly of cigar smoke, rich perfume, and fresh varnish, securing its reputation as the most prestigious hotel in Harrington. The leather furnishings and hand-carved moldings underscored the point. Johnson led the way to a large mahogany front desk, Todd on his heels. The soft murmur of patrons and tinkling glasses in the nearby dining room set a hopeful precedent that all was well.
Mr. Barclay was fine.
And Detective Johnson could set up a watch to ensure safety for a transfer of the inheritance of its rightful owners.
