brother into more trouble or get the three of us killed, very likely.”
It was no more than the truth, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. The look of guilt written so plainly on her face was like a physical blow.
“I’ll do exactly what you say. No questions. I just want Bertie safe.”
“The best thing you can do for your brother is to go home and let me handle this.”
She shook her head. "That's the only thing I won't do."
They stood, staring at each other. Finally, Edmund sighed. Against his better judgment, he told her. It was her brother in cooling his heels in gaol, not his. She had the right.
“It’s Father Flannery.”
Her reaction was not what he’d expected. Curling her lip in disgust, she stomped off in the direction of the green. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
He caught her arm, swinging her about to face him. “I’m telling you. It’s Flannery.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She studied his face, but it was clear he wasn’t joking. “You’re lying.” He shook his head. “Then you’re just wrong.”
“I don’t think so. The first night in the caver n I found a bead--”
“That could have come from anywhere.”
“At the Rectory , I matched it with some on one of his hassocks.”
“That only proves he was down in the cavern.”
"Exactly. I know in my bones it's Flannery, but this isn't enough evidence to bring charges. ”
Kate shook her head in denial. “He’s a priest. He’d never do anything like that.”
“He’s a man. He’s poor and chaste outwardly, but there are many things he’s hiding.”
Kate refused to listen to any more of this drivel. Without another word, she turned to leave. Edmund stepped in front of her.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? To find the real killer.” Kate stalked off.
Edmund took a step to go after her, but the idea of arguing with Kate or trying to carry her off by physical force would only lead to complications neither one desired--or Bertie, for that matter.
The thing to do was confront Flannery now, tonight. Beat the truth out of him if necessary before Kate had time to get herself into any more trouble.
Edmund checked his pistol as he walked a cross the post road to the Rectory, the only house in the village without a light on or people milling about, watching the goings-on. Kate was striding across the green, her skirts billowing in the breeze, hair whipping about her head, a magnificent Fury on a mission of vengeance.
He tried the doorknob. It turned easily and silently. Just before he threw it open to charge in, he looked back at Kate. She was at the roundhouse, slightly bent to talk to her brother. As he watched, she straightened up, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and strode off into the night. Edmund's heart clenched, but he had to focus on the mission at hand.
Gently he pushed the door open as slowly as he could and stuck his head around to check out the hallway. It was dark save for a few small candles sputtering languidly in the corner. All was oddly still. He stepped inside, pistol at the ready, and almost yelled when he saw Father Flannery standing silent in the dim glow, eyes open wide in shock. He looked almost as startled as Edmund felt.
“Good evening, my son--”
But the words of welcome were strangled along with the good father’s neck as Edmund grabbed the priest by the collar, swinging him about till his head crashed against the wall.
“It’s time we had a little chat, Father.”
***
Kate stood at the roundhouse, looking in the barred window at her little brother. In the cold damp cell he looked younger than his age. Not almost a young man, he was the young boy she’d raised almost as her own child. Now, all her fault, he was small and scared and frightened, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She held onto the bars as the hot tears stung her
It was no more than the truth, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. The look of guilt written so plainly on her face was like a physical blow.
“I’ll do exactly what you say. No questions. I just want Bertie safe.”
“The best thing you can do for your brother is to go home and let me handle this.”
She shook her head. "That's the only thing I won't do."
They stood, staring at each other. Finally, Edmund sighed. Against his better judgment, he told her. It was her brother in cooling his heels in gaol, not his. She had the right.
“It’s Father Flannery.”
Her reaction was not what he’d expected. Curling her lip in disgust, she stomped off in the direction of the green. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
He caught her arm, swinging her about to face him. “I’m telling you. It’s Flannery.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She studied his face, but it was clear he wasn’t joking. “You’re lying.” He shook his head. “Then you’re just wrong.”
“I don’t think so. The first night in the caver n I found a bead--”
“That could have come from anywhere.”
“At the Rectory , I matched it with some on one of his hassocks.”
“That only proves he was down in the cavern.”
"Exactly. I know in my bones it's Flannery, but this isn't enough evidence to bring charges. ”
Kate shook her head in denial. “He’s a priest. He’d never do anything like that.”
“He’s a man. He’s poor and chaste outwardly, but there are many things he’s hiding.”
Kate refused to listen to any more of this drivel. Without another word, she turned to leave. Edmund stepped in front of her.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? To find the real killer.” Kate stalked off.
Edmund took a step to go after her, but the idea of arguing with Kate or trying to carry her off by physical force would only lead to complications neither one desired--or Bertie, for that matter.
The thing to do was confront Flannery now, tonight. Beat the truth out of him if necessary before Kate had time to get herself into any more trouble.
Edmund checked his pistol as he walked a cross the post road to the Rectory, the only house in the village without a light on or people milling about, watching the goings-on. Kate was striding across the green, her skirts billowing in the breeze, hair whipping about her head, a magnificent Fury on a mission of vengeance.
He tried the doorknob. It turned easily and silently. Just before he threw it open to charge in, he looked back at Kate. She was at the roundhouse, slightly bent to talk to her brother. As he watched, she straightened up, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and strode off into the night. Edmund's heart clenched, but he had to focus on the mission at hand.
Gently he pushed the door open as slowly as he could and stuck his head around to check out the hallway. It was dark save for a few small candles sputtering languidly in the corner. All was oddly still. He stepped inside, pistol at the ready, and almost yelled when he saw Father Flannery standing silent in the dim glow, eyes open wide in shock. He looked almost as startled as Edmund felt.
“Good evening, my son--”
But the words of welcome were strangled along with the good father’s neck as Edmund grabbed the priest by the collar, swinging him about till his head crashed against the wall.
“It’s time we had a little chat, Father.”
***
Kate stood at the roundhouse, looking in the barred window at her little brother. In the cold damp cell he looked younger than his age. Not almost a young man, he was the young boy she’d raised almost as her own child. Now, all her fault, he was small and scared and frightened, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She held onto the bars as the hot tears stung her
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