The Witch of Stonecliff (13 page)

“Do you remember at all?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I think I started to come ‘round while they were tying me up, but all I remember is the sensation, not anything useful.”

“What’s the last thing you
do
remember?”

“I was drunk at the pub, and I left with a woman I met that night. She was a tourist, backpacking.” His frown deepened as he struggled to remember. “I think she might have been American. I was too pissed to drive, so we were going to walk back to the inn, but I needed to rest. I sat on the bench out front, and the next thing I remember is The Devil’s Eye.”

“What was the woman’s name?”

He stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember. Honestly, I barely remember what she looked like. Police searched for her, but she was long gone. I don’t know if she left me at the pub, or turned me over to the people who tried to kill me.”

“Could she have been one of them? You said there were three people at The Eye that night.”

He shrugged. “Anything’s possible I suppose, but I think it’s unlikely. Men have been murdered here for years. No one at the pub had seen her before, or after, for that matter.”

“So they say,” Eleri, muttered. This woman being with him that night, then just up and vanishing was all too convenient. “The man who helped you—”

“Saved me,” Kyle cut in.

Went through a lot of trouble to save himself, too, but she kept the thought to herself. “When he moved your car, did he take your things as well?”

Kyle frowned. “My things?”

“Police believe the woman robbed you and left you for dead. I assume your rescuer took anything you had of value—wallet, phone, watch.”

“I was naked when I woke next to the bog. I have no idea what became of my clothes, wallet, phone,” he chuckled humorlessly, “watch.”

Cold crept over her. As if nearly being murdered wasn’t enough. God knew what all had been done to him.

“According to the doctors, there was no evidence of sexual assault.” The rasp in his voice thickened. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Sometimes I’m not sure what’s worse, the things I remember or the things I don’t.”

A dull ache gripped Eleri’s throat. She wanted to do something, say something, offer some measure of comfort, but couldn’t find the words. Besides, that’s not what they were to each other. They were two people who merely wanted the same thing. Answers.

“This woman is your best bet for filling in the hours between The Iron Kettle and The Devil’s Eye.”

He glared. “The thought had crossed my mind a time or two.”

Eleri let out a frustrated sigh. She was on the brink, so close to proving she had nothing to do with the twelve men, except for this one insurmountable wall. “For God’s sake you met her in a pub. Surely, someone saw you leave, or out in the car park. Didn’t the police question anyone there that night?”

His mouth twitched. “Stephen Paskin, but he claimed he’d never seen her before that night.”

Her pulse jumped at the mention of the man. She wanted nothing to do with him. “Do you remember anyone else at the pub?”

He sighed and shoved his hand through his hair. “The regular punters, I suppose. We could probably go there now and find their arses parked in the same stools.”

She shot him a wry smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific. I’ve only been inside The Iron Kettle twice, and both times during the off hours. I don’t know who’s a regular and who’s not.”

“I can’t remember their names, I didn’t speak to them much except for one. He used to be the groundskeeper here when you were small.”

A chill whispered through her. “Thomas Grady.”

She should have known, she’d read Kyle’s articles all those years ago. Thomas Grady had more than a few screws loose and some rather unflattering theories about his former employer’s daughter. Kyle’s more colorful accounts of her supposed antics no doubt came from him.

She remembered those weeks Kyle had written about her. One sickening tale after another. The stares and whispers in the village, the name-calling. Her nerves had frayed until she’d felt like she was on the brink of a breakdown.

“The man’s half-mad,” she snapped. “I can’t believe you put anything he said into print.”

Kyle took a step toward her. “I’m not him anymore.”

“Yes, you are. You might not want to be, but you are.”

“Eleri, I—”

“We should go see Grady,” she cut in. “He might remember you and the woman you left with. Give us something more to go on, anyway.”

He opened his mouth as if to say more, but she turned away and started back down the path. She wasn’t interested in Kyle’s apologies or excuses. They wouldn’t change anything.

* * *

Afternoon sun spilled over spring fields like liquid gold, casting long shadows through budding tree branches. Overhead, strips of gauzy clouds drifted across the deep blue sky. The scene might have been quite picturesque if not for the mossy stone cottage on the verge of collapse.

Kyle got out of the car, closed the door and took a few steps toward the dirt footpath. “Are you certain he lives here? Are you certain
anyone
lives here?”

He glanced back at Eleri still standing in the V between the car door and the opening for the passenger seat, uncertainty clouding her delicate features. Better than the furious accusation back at The Devil’s Eye, but only marginally.

He’d been unprepared for the guilt being with her inspired. Seeing firsthand the damage Jack—he—had wrought. He might have given the possibility more consideration had he the slightest inclination that they’d form this unlikely alliance. But how could he have guessed?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It might be better if I wait here. He believes I killed those men. There’s a good chance he won’t speak to you if I’m there.”

He shook his head. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her out here alone. “I need you with me. If he drops names, they won’t mean a thing.”

“Fine,” she muttered, slamming the car door. “But when he refuses to talk, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He smirked. “You’re more than welcome to tell me you told me so.”

“Believe me, I will.”

Together, they followed the dirt rut to the front door. Gray paint—which may have started out white—peeled and chipped, exposed the rough wood beneath like festering sores. Shingles lifted from the sagging roof, the wood beneath green and rotted from years of neglect. A thick layer of filth streaked the windows.

“Is he even home?” Kyle muttered.

“He’s home.” Dark certainty in Eleri’s voice drew his attention. She shot him a wry smirk. “The pub’s not open yet.”

She had a point. Kyle banged on the door, but no one answered. “Maybe he is out.”

“
Passed
out, more likely.”

He banged harder. A muffled voice rose from behind the door followed by a series of dull thuds, then the paint chipped oak swung inward and Thomas Grady’s large, slumped frame filled the opening. His red, bleary gaze fixed on Kyle first. Deep frown lines grooved his forehead, and he blinked his nearly colorless eyes as if trying to process why Kyle was standing on his front step. Then his eyes shifted to Eleri and widened. His sallow skin turned pasty.

“Not me,” he said on a hoarse whisper, holding up one gnarled hand. “Don’t choose me. I’m too old to be any use to you.”

Kyle’s gaze jumped between Grady and Eleri—who looked nearly as horrified as the man backing away from them.

“Mr. Grady.” Kyle spoke loudly in an attempt to draw the other man’s attention back to him. Not that it did any good. He could have set himself on fire and Thomas Grady wouldn’t have spared him a glance.

The man’s terrified gaze stayed locked on Eleri. He shuffled backward, but big, mud-caked boots stumbled over each other and he tipped over like a felled oak tree.

Kyle leapt forward, grabbing for the bigger man’s arm to keep him from falling, but wasn’t quite fast enough. Grady landed hard on his backside. The floor shook beneath Kyle’s feet, windows rattling in their frames.

“Are you all right?” he asked, sinking down beside him.

“Listen to me,” Grady hissed, grasping Kyle’s arm and pulling him closer. Odors of stale booze and unwashed body assaulted his nose. “I’m too old. I’m no good to her. Tell her I’m too old. Tell her…” Grady’s bloodshot gaze fixed on his neck, eyes widening, and his words trailed away.

A thin prickle crept across his throat, but Kyle ignored the sensation. “Mr. Grady, are you hurt?”

“I remember you,” he said, soft voice filled with awe.

Good. Maybe this visit wouldn’t be a complete waste of time after all. “That’s why we’re here, to talk to you. Can I help you up?”

“Why the devil would you come back here? And with her?”

Kyle looked up at Eleri, and despite her pale skin and wary gaze, she shot him a saccharine smile. “I told you so.”

Chapter Ten

Eleri’s insides churned sickly at the sight of the man sitting on the stained rug before her—big, old and drunk, he cowered like a shivering puppy. She was half his size and weight. The idea that anyone was afraid of her was almost laughable—or would have been were it not her life.

“Let’s get you up off the floor.” Kyle gripped Grady’s elbow and helped the man to his feet. “Come on into the lounge. Are you all right?”

“You got away once. She won’t let you escape again,” the man said, letting Kyle lead him into a poky little room off the hall.

When Eleri made no attempt to follow, Kyle stopped and frowned at her. “I’ll go back to the car.”

Kyle shook his head. “We stay together.”

“He’ll never manage a sensible word if I stay.”

Kyle fixed his attention on the giant of a man beside him. “You remember me, Mr. Grady? You remember speaking to me two years ago, answering my questions? “

Grady’s light gaze never left her. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn. Don’t choose me. I’m too old. I shouldn’t have told him what I did, I know that, and it’s not your fault, after all. It’s the land. The evil lives in the land.” His wild eyes swivelled to Kyle. “I’ve seen the evil. Seen it myself. Not her fault.”

She held her breath against the urge to snort. Even when the man was groveling to keep from being
chosen
—whatever that meant—he still accused her.

“Grady,” she said. Her tone must have been sharper than she intended. Both men turned, frowning. “I haven’t
chosen
you for anything except to answer some questions. At least not yet.”

Kyle’s frown deepened, but Eleri ignored him. After all, if Thomas Grady was going to give her this sort of power, why not wield it? What did she have to lose?

“If you answer our questions, we’ll go away and never bother you again. Will you do that?”

The man nodded, eyes wide and staring as if he were locked in a trance. “All right, then.”

He turned and shuffled into the lounge. Eleri started to follow, but Kyle gripped her wrist, stopping her.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, eyes narrowed, features hard.

“You want me here, but he’ll never tell you a thing while he thinks I’m here for him.”

“You implied—”

“You can’t have it all ways,” she whispered, harshly. “He thinks I tried to murder my sister.”

“And even Brynn says you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. For nearly twenty-five years, he’s believed that I have and has been drinking himself into oblivion ever since. That’s not going to change because you, or me, or even Brynn says otherwise.”

“It’s one thing not bothering to try to change his mind, but something altogether different to threaten the man.”

Her face heated. “I didn’t
threaten
him.”

“You implied.”

“And it worked, so let’s just get this done. Believe me, I’m no happier about this than you.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Was he having doubts? Did he believe that she might have been a part of what happened to him at The Eye, after all? A dull ache gripped her chest, but she ignored it. What did she care what he believed so long as they both got the answers they wanted?

Finally, he followed Grady into the cave-like lounge. Eleri walked beneath an arched entry, but stopped short as if hitting an invisible wall. The smells of mildew, unwashed feet and old alcohol combined, the stench so thick she could almost taste it.

Layers of grime covered the furniture, the windows dulling the sunlight more than the yellowed sheers hanging drunkenly from the rod. Newspapers, old clothes and empty bottles were littered across the floor and furniture. Fat, buzzing flies landed on plates of molding food, crawled around then lit out for the next dish.

Had he always lived this way? Or had his life fractured after his time at Stonecliff?

She tried to remember him from her childhood, but her memories were merely blurred glimpses of the man. She’d only been six when he stopped working for her father. He’d been huge with sandy colored hair, unruly and tangled. His size and wild appearance had scared her, reminding her of the giants in her fairy tales, and she’d done her best to avoid him.

He’d quit his position at Stonecliff shortly after Brynn had nearly drowned at the bog, telling everyone he could that Eleri had been responsible. Even when Brynn remembered Meris had been the one to try to kill her, most people believed the man slumped on the stained settee before her.

Even the village drunk had more credibility than her. What chance did she really have to clear her name?

No one believed Kyle’s version of what happened to him, or Brynn’s either. Why would anyone—police included—believe Kyle’s pushpins in a map, his pattern of dates?

“Mr. Grady,” Kyle said, voice gentle, even, as he lifted a stack of ancient newspapers from a worn, green armchair and set them on the filthy carpet. There must have been something else mixed with those pages. Kyle rubbed his hand up and down his jean-clad leg. “We don’t mean to upset you. We just have some questions, that’s all.”

Grady’s gaze flicked to her then back to Kyle. “Just questions?”

She stayed by the door, not wanting to spook the man more than she already had—and she wasn’t certain what she might pick up if she ventured farther into that room.