Page 61 of The Highland Heist
“Whoever was here is gone now,” Todd said, reentering the room from the closet.
Frederick approached the fireplace, where a faint warmth still radiated. A small flame flickered among charred debris. “And they didn’t leave long ago. The fire’s fresh—someone’s been burning …” His voice trailed off.
“Paper,” Grace said sharply, already at his side. She dropped to her knees with a swish of skirts, her parasol clattering to the floor. “Oh no, Frederick.”
Her exclamation tugged him down beside her. The faintly acrid smell of burned parchment filled the air as Grace began sifting through the remains. The fragments were small, curling at the edges as if they were trying to retreat from discovery. A blackened scrap revealed the wordtestament,and Frederick’s stomach knotted.
Pulling out his handkerchief, he carefully fished through the debris. Among the ashes, he unearthed a corner of parchment bearing the wordsinheritanceandlegal transfer,their meaning unmistakable even beneath their charred edges. Another piece bore the faint remains of a signature ending inFerguson.
“Those were the copies Barclay brought for Lillias and me to sign tomorrow,” Grace whispered. Her finger traced the singed edge of what remained of her mother’s signature.
Johnson loomed closer, his shadow dark against the flickering light. “Someone destroyed them,” he said grimly, scanning the room as though the culprit might suddenly materialize. “Judging by the state of things, they didn’t want to leave anything behind.”
“Whoever it is must be after the estate.” Grace stood abruptly, her gaze sweeping the chaotic room. “If Lillias and I don’t claim it in less than a month, it will go to auction. Mr. Barclay said that there were already buyers waiting in the wings to purchase it.”
“And your sister knew about the inheritance as well?” Johnson’s tone sharpened.
“She only found out about it from us yesterday afternoon and learned specifics from Mr. Barclay today.”
“With the alibi Officer Todd confirmed, your sister is cleared of further suspicion.” Johnson shrugged a shoulder. “And without documents to confirm your inheritance, the risk to you, your sister, and anyone associated with you should be reduced.”
“Not necessarily, Detective.” Frederick’s response brought all eyes back to him, even Grace’s.
“What do you mean?” Johnson asked, his gaze snapping to him.
Frederick turned to Grace, his palm moving to her arm. “These were just copies, weren’t they?”
Grace blinked. “Yes, of course.”
“Then there’s another copy of the will and the legal documents linking you and your sister to the inheritance,” Frederick’s gaze steadied on her.
Johnson tensed, suddenly on alert again. “And where are these papers?”
Grace met his eyes. “Scotland,” she said. “Inside Mosslea Castle.”
“The will was destroyed? No.” Lillias surged from her chair, pacing toward the window like a wind-up toy on its last frantic rotation. “Everything hinged on that inheritance! Thomas and I were finally going to be free—free of Harrington, free of its shadows. A new start, a new home, a life unburdened.”
Grace pressed her lips together so tightly they might have sealed shut. It took a Herculean effort not to retort with the obvious—that Mr. Barclay, now unconscious thanks to an assailant, had rather larger problems than the postponement of her sister’s plans. But after all Lillias had endured—her husband murdered, finances obliterated, their cook comatose—it hardly seemed the moment to provoke a fit.
And when Lillias had a fit, if they were anything like the ones she used to have when they were younger, the entire house knew about it.
Father had called them “episodes,” as if labeling them lent sophistication to what were, in truth, well-timed performances that ended whenever Lillias got her way. Grace had often escaped into a book, letting the tirade dissolve into the background.
“Things are not lost, Lillias.” Grace looked over at Frederick. They’d discussed options on their drive from the hotel, where they’d left Detective Johnson, Officer Todd, and a few other officials combing through Mr. Barclay’s hotel room and interviewing various other people regarding the poor man’s attacks. “We both have some money laid aside from Mother which, if the figures that Mr. Barclay gave us are still accurate, should help you create a fresh start wherever you go.”
“Yes, I made certain to withdraw mine this afternoon while you two were off playacting as detectives.” She added a derisive sniff for good measure. “Why you can’t leave this ugly business to professionals is beyond me. Meanwhile, I’ve had to manage the stress of this wretched situation alone.”
Alone?Grace frowned, agitated heat climbing her neck. Lillias had a much bigger flare for dramatics than Grace did, and that was impressive. Miss Cox, Zahra, and the doctor had been here all afternoon. Of course Thomas couldn’t be counted—he was hardly useful as an infant. Mrs. Lindsay was unconscious, and Mrs. James might well be a suspect, but alone? Hardly.
And playacting as detectives? Grace sat a little straighter at the offense. Jack Miracle had praised their work, even inducted them as detectives in their own right. How did Lillias always manage to make her feel so insignificant? It seemed deeply unsisterly.
“Our playacting, as you so charmingly call it, likely kept you alive.” Frederick’s sharp tone cut through the air, pulling Lillias’, and even Grace’s, attention. “Had it not been for our help, I sincerely doubt you’d have gotten those funds or the information about the inheritance as quickly as you have.”
The words landed like a hammer, and for once, Lillias faltered. Her gaze dropped. Grace blinked at Frederick in astonishment. No one had ever come to her defense where Lillias was concerned, let alone stood up to her sister with such measured ferocity.
Frederick, all affronted dignity, was an even more magnificent sight than usual. Grace realized that, although the elder sister, Lillias Dixon may not very well be the stronger, cleverer, or more resilient of the two of them.
And that thought was completely new to Grace.
