Deadly Love by B. D. Joyce

Author:B. D. Joyce
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780312977672
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks
Published: 2001-01-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Wednesday, January 22, 1902—8 A.M.

“Wake up.”

Francesca vaguely heard her brother’s voice. She did not want to wake up. In fact, she was so terribly exhausted that she doubted she could raise her eyelids, much less move a single muscle.

“Wake up, Fran. It’s eight o’clock. Today is Wednesday. You have a class at ten.”

Class. She had cut her French literature class yesterday, and she had three classes today. Evan was right. She had algebra at ten this morning. What a wonderful thought.

She still did not want to wake up. And as she became fully awake, she was stricken with the searing comprehension why.

Jonny Burton was dead.

The dirty, frozen, bloodstained pajamas that he had disappeared in had been found on his bed. By his twin brother. With the fifth note, “D is for Dog.”

The monster was becoming obvious. Francesca sat up.

“Fran?” Evan sat down on the foot of her bed. He was grim. But one brow slashed upward. “Are you sick?”

She looked at him. Dog, bones, grave. How easy this last clue was. “He’s dead, Evan. I am certain of it,” she whispered, shaking and wondering if she was as ashen as she felt.

His eyes widened. “Who? Jonny?”

She nodded, pushing waves of hair out of her face. “There was another note … I’m afraid I can’t go into the details, but it seems inescapable. That poor boy. Poor Eliza. Poor Burton,” she whispered.

Clearly the monster wished to torment the Burtons. Yet who was he? Or she? Whoever it was, the person had access to the Burton home. The pajamas had been left right on Jonny’s bed.

What kind of gesture was this?

How confident the monster must be, Francesca thought, to walk into their home and leave the pajamas in the boy’s bedroom with another note.

“I am so sorry,” Evan said, leaning forward. “God, what a horrid mess. I hope they find that madman and hang him by … well, never mind,” he said.

She flushed. She could guess what part of the madman’s anatomy Evan referred to. After last night she was afraid that very little in the way of vocabulary would ever stymie her again. Had she really gone into that saloon? Or had it been a nightmare? She felt her cheeks warm even more. If only she could forget those crude remarks and even cruder words.

“Are you sure there’s no hope?” Evan was asking, cutting into her thoughts.

Her smile felt wan, as an image of Bragg as he had been last night flashed through her mind’s eye. Still so undeniably attractive, but so defeated and resigned. He believed as she did, she knew. “I suppose there is always hope, until the body is found.” She pushed aside the covers, about to slip from the bed.

Evan caught her wrist, restraining her. “Actually, we must talk.”

His tone confused her. It was hard. She paused, seated on the edge of the bed, staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

His expression hardened. “Where were you last night?”

She blinked and blinked again. And then she felt the heat of guilt invading her cheeks.

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