Chapter 35
T he camp cleared out quickly once Edmondson was dead. As far as Brigid could gather, the men had no interest in staying around now that Edmondson was not there to pay them.
On their way out, though, they seemed to have taken almost everything of value from the tents. The place was a mess, with ripped canvas and broken tent poles strewn everywhere. At least, that was what Brigid saw from where she stood. Their little group had not made it far from the cross, where Mary still crouched over Tam’s lifeless body.
Brigid felt oddly detached from everything going on around her. The world seemed strangely bright and sharp, and her own emotions somehow numb. She couldn’t believe that Tam was truly dead. It seemed impossible. Surely it had not happened? Surely it was not real? Tam had been so alive, so involved in their mission. How could he be dead?
Mary was shaking now, barely able to breathe. Sandy’s hand rested on her shoulder, and tears fell from his own eyes. He hadn’t said a single word, not even to his sister. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Brigid certainly didn’t know what to say. She didn’t belong here, in this tight-knit circle of grief.
Mary moaned and then gasped for breath, her whole body trembling. She collapsed onto Tam’s chest, beside the point where the knife still protruded. Sandy heaved a giant sob.
Brigid stared at them, still wrapped in numb disbelief. She struggled to breathe herself.
This was all because of her. If she hadn’t believed Finn’s stupid lies, if she hadn’t let the Professor manipulate her, if she hadn’t persuaded Sandy to help her, none of this would have happened. Tam would still be alive and well. Mary’s world would not have fallen apart.
A couple of Edmondson’s men sidled up to her, looking nervous. For a second, Brigid was mildly surprised - she’d thought they’d all gone. Apparently not.
“Are you in charge now, ma’am?” one man asked. He sounded English, but Brigid guessed he was still from the eighteenth century.
It took her a moment to think about his question. In charge? What did that even mean?
In the end, she nodded.
“Yes,” she said, fumbling for the right words. “I’m definitely in charge of the camp now.”
“Right you are, ma’am,” the man said nervously. “What should be doing, then?”
Was there anything that could be done? It was far too late for anything to help.
“Try to get this place tidied up,” Brigid said, waving her hand about. “If there’s any valuables left, find them. But don’t try to stop anyone from leaving. Everyone can do what they want.”
Mary looked up, her face tear-stained. There was black hatred in her eyes.
“Every one of you should be punished for Tam’s death,” she said. “Every single one of you should die for it.”
The remaining men all shifted uncomfortably.
“Now then, I never wanted to be involved in any kind of murder,” one said.
“This was supposed to be a nice, easy job,” another muttered.
“No more of this talk,” Brigid said firmly. “If we catch the man who actually killed Tam, we will see him punished. Otherwise, we will not blame anyone else.”
Mary glared at her, but thankfully said nothing. Sandy just shook his head sorrowfully. He seemed so distant.
“We need to find a cart to get Tam home,” Brigid said. She couldn’t bear to say Tam’s body . It seemed wrong. Too final.
“I can find a cart,” one of the men volunteered. Brigid nodded to him and he rushed off.
Then she turned to Sandy. He smiled at her sadly.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s time for all of us to go home.”