Chapter Twenty-Four
Selena’s head was pounding. Her eyes were so heavy, she couldn’t open them. Her body was free floating and jostling. Was she being carried?
The sound of deep, rapid breathing reached her ears.
Her head was cradled against something hard.
The scratchy texture of wool was against her cheek.
The scent of woodsy cologne infused her nostrils.
Dr. Scott wore that scent. Was it his labored respiration that she heard?
Was she in his arms? How wonderful to be in Dr. Scott’s arms.
But something was wrong. Selena managed to open her eyes a slit. It was dark, but they were surrounded by a halo of flickering light.
“Stay with me, Selena.” It was Dr. Scott’s voice, and it was deep and filled with anxiety. “Stay with me.”
I’m here, she wanted to tell him. I’m here. But the throbbing in her head intensified, and blackness claimed her once more.
*
“Selena! Selena!”
Selena opened her eyes, squinting at light so dazzling, it made her head pound. Dr. Scott, in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, was bent over her, his dark-blue eyes filled with concern. He let out a deep inhalation. “Oh, thank heavens.”
Still struggling to adjust to the brightness around her, Selena stared up at a high ceiling of grey stone.
Sunlight bathed the white walls in a rainbow of colors.
She spotted the stained-glass window of St. George and the Dragon.
Ah. They were in the chapel. She was lying on a pew.
Her head was cushioned by something. She reached up behind her to touch it.
Woolen fabric. Was it Dr. Scott’s folded frock coat?
Selena tried to go back in her mind to the last thing she remembered, but her brain pulsated with pain and confusion.
Think, think. Oh, yes. We were in the catacombs. Looking for a dragon.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Scott asked.
“Like my head was hit by an anvil.”
“That’s understandable. You’ve suffered a mild concussion.” Dr. Scott looked intently into her eyes. “Can you tell me your name?”
Why was he asking that? she thought irritably. Did he think she was a fool? “Selena Taylor.” She recalled stepping out of a burial chamber. And then—nothing.
“Can you lift your right hand?”
Selena suddenly understood. He was being doctorly and giving her a medical overview. She raised the requested hand and saw relief cross his face. “How long have I been out?”
“About ten minutes or so, but you briefly awoke once or twice.” He took one of her hands in both of his and clasped it warmly.
Her mind felt clearer now. “I remember being in the catacombs.” She rubbed her shoulder, wincing as a spasm of pain shot through her. “We didn’t find the dragon tomb.”
“We’ll go back when you feel up to it.”
She remembered something else. “Why did you run off like that, with our only light?”
A faint blush stained his cheeks. “I thought I heard something and hurried out to check. I shouldn’t have left you in the dark. I’m sorry.”
“What happened after that?”
His lips compressed. “Do you remember the stone statues on the pedestals beside the tomb’s entrance?”
“Yes.”
“One of them fell. When I turned around, I found you and the statue on the ground. If you’d been standing a few inches farther back, it might have killed you.”
Thoughts tossed through Selena’s brain like stones in a tumbler. “Wait. Did you say a statue fell on me?”
“Yes. It must have been precariously balanced, and we disturbed it when we walked by.”
Selena dredged up the memory of the last thing she had heard before she’d blacked out. “That statue didn’t fall,” she exclaimed. “It was pushed.”
“‘Pushed’? What do you mean?”
“Someone else was in the catacombs and they shoved it onto me.”
A line formed between his brows. “I thought I heard someone, too. But if anyone else had been there when I left the tomb, I would have seen them.”
“Did you check behind the stacks of coffins, or the closest archway?”
“No.”
Selena blinked rapidly. “When we entered the tunnel, we heard a door creak. We thought somebody might have followed us in, but we discounted it. Later, we heard another strange sound. We thought it was rats.”
“It was rats.”
“Yes, but why did they scamper away like that? Unless they were running from something … or somebody?”
He frowned. “If so, I repeat, we would have seen them.”
“Would we? Remember, there were only pockets of light.”
“Still, I don’t think—” he began, but she continued.
“Just before I was hit, I heard a scuffling sound. Someone must have been hiding while we were in the tomb. When I came out, they pushed the statue off the pedestal and hid again. Did you look inside the tomb?”
“No. It never would have occurred to me. You were unconscious. My only thought was to get you out of the catacombs as quickly as possible.”
Selena realized she hadn’t yet thanked him for that. “I’m so grateful that you did. I can’t thank you enough.” She took a breath. “But, Dr. Scott, don’t you see? I might not have been the only target. That fallen statue may have been meant for both of us. Have you forgotten the threatening notes?”
“Of course not, but—”
“For days, we’ve been on the trail of a purported killer whom we believe is after the hidden money. They warned us to stay out of this or die. They may have just tried to do away with me—and had you been standing closer, you as well.”
Dr. Scott rubbed his chin pensively. “I understand what you’re saying. But to think that someone might have followed us all that way, intending to do us harm … it seems incredible.”
“It’s not.” Selena shook her head, which caused a splitting pain to spear her forehead.
“If you only knew what happened to Athena and me two years ago, the lengths to which a determined killer went to try to murder us … you wouldn’t doubt what occurred here today.
And it’s not the first attempt. I think when we were trapped in the icehouse that someone shut the door on us deliberately. ”
“Possibly,” he conceded, although his voice rang with doubt.
“We’re lucky we got out or poor Billy would have died in there with us,” Selena insisted. “Plus, I don’t think I had a nightmare the other night. I think someone really did plan to smother me in my sleep.”
Dr. Scott’s frown deepened. “But you said yourself, the second pillow hadn’t moved.”
“The perpetrator must have brought their own pillow with them.”
He raised his hands in acquiescence. “All right. I’ve heard enough.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you’re right. That someone did try to kill you, and possibly us today. The question is: what shall we do about it?”
A wave of relief washed over her. At last, he was listening.
“Whatever we do, we have to hurry.” From her prone position on the bench, Selena squinted towards the chapel windows.
The sun beat down on the landscape beyond.
Although snow was scattered in drifts across the lawns, in most areas, it was nearly gone, leaving wide, muddy patches in its wake.
“Even if the roads are clear of snow by tomorrow, they’ll be sunk in mud and untraversable.
But the trains might start running again. Our guests may decide to leave.”
“I thought they were staying through the new year?”
“That was the intention, but with all that’s happened, I wouldn’t blame them if they want to depart early.” Selena pondered. “When you arrived in Darkmoor Bridge, you learned that our vicar, Mr. Johnson—the parish constable—was away for the holidays. When did you say he is supposed to return?”
Dr. Scott seemed to flinch at her question—an odd reaction, Selena thought. Perhaps he was just thinking hard, as she was. “December 29th.”
“That’s tomorrow.” Selena clasped her hands. “If the trains do start running, and Mr. Johnson returns, we can tell him everything that’s happened.”
“I suppose we could.” Dr. Scott’s forehead creased. “But we still don’t have a shred of evidence to support any of our theories. No way to prove that anyone’s actually been murdered, or that attempted murder has occurred, or even that any cash is hidden here.”
Selena blew out a sigh. “I know. But Mr. Johnson is a thoughtful and intelligent man. He’ll listen, at least. In the meantime, we have to find that proof and the truth of what’s been happening.”
“The truth.” Dr. Scott fell silent and glanced away, a haunted expression in his eyes.
Selena wondered what he was thinking. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “And in the meantime,” he said, echoing her words, “I must get you to bed. You need to rest and recover.”
“I’m all right,” Selena assured him. But when she tried to sit up, her head hammered with such violent pain that she fell back, groaning.
“What hurts?” he demanded.
“My head.”
“I’m not surprised. Let me help you up.” With the gentlest of care, he assisted her to a sitting position on the pew. “For the next forty-eight hours, you must lie in a darkened room. Doctor’s orders. No exertion of any kind that will tax body or your brain. Just peace and quiet.”
Selena made a face. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“You’re not supposed to have fun. You’ve suffered a concussion. Being overly active right now can be dangerous.”
“Oh, Doctor, don’t be so dramatic. I’ll be fine,” Selena insisted.
“We can’t be certain of that.” He was emphatic and his eyes were worried. “I’ve done some research on the condition. Pushing yourself too soon might worsen your symptoms, delay the healing process, and increase the risk of a second concussion or even brain damage.”
Selena started to shake her head, which once again caused it to ache more. “Fine, whatever you say.”
Dr. Scott put his frock coat back on. “Do you feel well enough to stand?”
“I think so.” As he helped her to her feet, a wave of dizziness took hold of her, and she wavered and fell against him. “Sorry.”
“When we get upstairs, I’ll give you something to help with the pain,” he said, supporting her firmly with both arms.