Chapter 11
They were all gone. Lucy smiled. She couldn’t help it. The fact that all the gunmen, and Christopher in particular, were not in town, was enough to make her smile.
“Two whole days,” she said to herself as she got ready for bed. “Two whole days of being Christopher-free.”
What had Robert said to him? she wondered. It hadn’t helped. In the few hours the previous evening between the end of her working shift and when it was bedtime, Lucy hadn’t had a moment’s peace. She’d even found him hanging around outside her door after breakfast.
That had been odd. Christopher had been fiddling with her doorknob as though trying to see if she had left it unlocked.
Her brothers had tried that with her when she was little, and they had put a jack-in-the-box under her pillow.
Not that she expected any such shenanigans from a grown man, but still. It was strange.
She had told Christopher that the others were waiting for him downstairs, and he’d hired down to join the other gunmen. She had then unlocked and opened her door, heading inside to quickly check if anything was amiss.
But nothing was. There wasn’t a thing out of place.
Even now, hours later as the room was bathed in the light of a lamp, she couldn’t think what Christopher had been doing by her door. She had checked her closet, her bedside table, her vanity … Nothing was out of place. He hadn’t even moved her hairbrush.
Looking around the room, it was neat and tidy, just as she liked it. Perhaps Christopher had meant to leave a note or something under the door, and her showing up when she did had distracted him.
Maybe that was it. She was grateful because she wouldn’t have wanted to read a love letter from the man. That would have made things even more awkward between them.
Well, she had had a most excellent day without him.
She and Robert had eaten lunch together in the sheriff’s station this time, since the weather had been cold and rainy.
Robert had asked her to come back in the morning and help him decorate the office for Christmas, which was just around the corner. She was looking forward to that.
All around town, the townsfolks were starting to put up decorations. While there hadn’t been a single bit of mistletoe or a wreath in sight a couple of days ago, they were starting to pop up all over as though, by some unspoken agreement, it was time.
Smiling, she peeled back the covers on her bed and slid between them. There was a lovely quilt on the bed made with so many pretty squares of fabric that Lucy knew it must have taken someone ages to make it. The pattern was lovely, all triangles of color that made up a farmyard scene.
Snuggling down, she began to feel sleep tugging at her eyelids, making them droop. Tomorrow was going to be an excellent day.
Something brushed against her leg.
Lucy froze. What was that?
She waited.
Nothing.
It’s just my imagination. I’ve been wound up lately.
She shifted, and there the feeling was again. It was like something brushed against her skin, light and feathery. What could it be? Had a beetle or a moth or something found its way into her bed?
There was the feeling again, this time on the other leg.
Lucy sat up, fully awake now.
There’s something in here with me.
Her imagination filled her bed with mice and ants and a host of creepy crawlies. She wasn’t squeamish—she’d even become fond of Critter in a short time—but she did prefer that any bugs or rodents keep their distance.
Something crawled over her foot, heading up her leg, and that was the end of trying to remain calm. Lucy threw back the covers and launched herself out of her bed. She staggered backward, fear raging through her as she saw what had been crawling all over her.
Frantically, she patted down her legs and arms, reassuring herself that she hadn’t been stung. There were no welts and no pain, so she assumed she was safe and said a prayer of deepest thanks for God’s protection.
Then, throwing her door open, she fled. Thundering down the stairs, she unlocked and opened the front door, running out into the night. It was very cold, but she didn’t care at all. She ran up the street, headed straight for Robert’s house.
Finally reaching it, she pushed open the front gate and raced up the path to the porch. The steps creaked as she climbed them and then began hammering her fist on the front door.
“Robert!” she cried. “Robert, please! Open up!”
Something tickled her calf and to her horror, Lucy realized that one of the unwanted guests that had been in her bed had come with her. She shook her nightdress, a high keening coming from her as she tried to get the bug off her.
Behind her, she was aware of sounds and light and then Robert’s calm voice.
“Lucy?”
“Robert!” she cried. “Get it off me!”
He was quick to react; seeing her predicament, he grabbed something from inside the house and swiped it down her nightdress. Then he raised a booted foot and brought it down on the offending creature, which cracked and splattered with a satisfying crunch.
“Lucy, what is going on?” Robert asked. “Are there more?”
“I don’t know!” she very nearly screamed.
“Come inside,” he said, taking her by the arm and pulling her in. Then he closed the door, leaving the chill outside. “Come to the parlor. There’s still a fire in the grate.”
“But what if there are more?” she asked, walking carefully, her whole body feeling like it was covered in insects.
“We’ll see them better inside,” Robert said. “There’s more light.”
They hurried down the corridor and Lucy realized this was the first time she had been inside Robert’s house, but there was no time now to take it in.
She was rushed to the parlor, and Robert made her stand still while he moved around her, inspecting each fold of her nightdress until he was satisfied that there were no more scorpions on her.
Lucy let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped a blanket around her.
It seemed he had been sitting in his parlor reading when she came knocking.
She was shaking like a leaf and sat timidly on the edge of his couch.
It was soft and comfortable, but Lucy was suddenly very aware that she was only in a nightdress.
She hadn’t even put shoes on before fleeing into the night.
Robert went back to the front door and scooped up the thing with a piece of cardboard from a soap box. He placed it on the coffee table, and they both leaned forward to stare at it.
“A scorpion,” Robert said. “They should all be hibernating in these temperatures. Where did it come from?”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know, but there were a lot of them in my bed.”
“What?” Robert’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “In your bed?”
She nodded. “First the fabric rack, now this. Robert, what is going on?”
He shook his head. “We don’t know that there’s a connection between the two things yet. Do you feel up to showing me your bed?”
She nodded. “I guess we’ll have to do something about them. What if they get into other guests’ rooms and sting them?”
This brought on a new sense of urgency, and with Lucy still wrapped up in the blanket, they hurried down the street to the boarding house.
“Your home is lovely, by the way,” Lucy said, feeling she should say something nice about it.
The comment was so out of place that she felt foolish for saying it the moment it left her lips. All Robert did was smile and thank her for her kind words.
She led him up the stairs to her room. He went in first and came out again a few minutes later.
“I’m going to need a really big jar. Any idea where I can find one?”
Lucy headed downstairs to the kitchen and went in search of a jar. She found a massive bell-shaped one and brought it up the stairs to Robert. “Will this do?”
“Perfect,” he said.
For the next few minutes, they worked at cautiously catching the scorpions.
They were a muddy yellow with black stripes on their backs.
They seemed quite docile, as though they had been awoken from a deep sleep.
Which made sense, given the season. No self-respecting insect would usually be found outside.
“They’re striped bark scorpions,” Robert said when he had collected them all.
“We’ve had a few run-ins with them. They’re not deadly poisonous, but they can make you awfully sick.
I’m not sure what a sting from these nine—ten if you count the dead one—would do to a person. Any idea how they got in your bed?”
Lucy looked at her bed and shook her head. “I have no idea.” Then the memory of Christopher hanging around her door came back to her. “Although …”
Robert looked up from the jar at her. “Although?”
“Although, I caught Christopher hanging around my door this morning. I don’t know what he was doing. I thought he was slipping a note under it,” Lucy said.
“Was the door locked?”
“Oh yes. With those men around, I keep it locked all the time,” Lucy said.
“And it was still locked when you found him standing by it?” Robert asked, looking thoughtful.
She nodded.
He sighed. “Okay. Well, I think we got them all.”
“Can we make sure?” Lucy asked.
Robert smiled and nodded.
They were thorough. They moved everything and checked under as much of the furniture as they could. They made so much noise that they woke Mrs. Odenkirk, who came upstairs to yell at them.
“There were scorpions in Lucy’s bed,” Robert explained. He held out the jar for the landlady to inspect.
“Good heavens, where did they come from?” she asked, going sheet white and backing away.
“We’re not sure,” Robert said.
Lucy was not sure what to make of the whole situation.
The last thing she wanted to do was sleep in this room now, but what other option did she have?
Robert had captured them all, and there wasn’t so much as a hint of another scorpion anywhere, but her imagination insisted on playing tricks on her, making her feel phantom insect feet touching her skin.
It sent horrific shivers up and down her spine.
“Well, you can’t stay in that room tonight,” Mrs. Odenkirk said with finality in her voice. “Come on, I have one unoccupied room. Let’s get you settled in there.”
Lucy was eternally grateful. She couldn’t seem to turn her mind off and it was only full of horrors. At least now, in a different room, she might get some sleep.
Robert was very kind, helping her to get settled before he left.
Alone in her new room, Lucy checked the bed. There were no creatures of any kind between these sheets, but she couldn’t seem to get herself to stop feeling things crawling on her.
What followed was one of the worst nights of Lucy’s life. She spent the whole night sitting on her bed, cuddled up in her robe, trying to ignore the imagined feelings on her body.
By the time morning dawned, Lucy was exhausted. She felt as though there was grit in her eyes, and her whole body ached from the way she had slept. Her neck was particularly unhappy with the situation.
Worse than her physical discomfort was the general feeling of dread and unease that crept over her as she lay there.
Two events that had happened to her that could have resulted in her being hurt or killed.
One could probably be written off as an accident, a culmination of events that resulted in her being in danger.
But two? Considering that the second event had involved scorpions in her bed …
Was that even an accident, or was she being targeted? Did someone mean to do her harm?
Something was wrong in this town.
Robert surprised her by waiting in reception as she came downstairs. Though she was dressed for the day, Lucy didn’t feel up to it at all. She wanted to sleep but still felt the scorpions and their tiny feet crawling all over her. It was horrible.
“Morning,” she said.
“Did you get any sleep?” he asked, concern evident on his face.
Lucy sighed. “Not much. You want some coffee? Mrs. Odenkirk makes an excellent pot of the stuff.”
“Sounds like something I could do with,” Robert said, smiling.
They went into the dining room. Of late it had been busy, loud, full of male voices talking and laughing.
That morning it was silent, and Lucy found herself looking around for Ben and Duncan, the two gunmen she liked most. She never had to look for Christopher; he was always watching her, and Alistair always shot her strange looks when he wasn’t with the horses.
She poured herself and Robert mugs of coffee, and they sat at the table. Neither of them seemed to have an appetite, and even the smell of eggs and toast coming from the covered dishes on the sideboard couldn’t tempt them.
“I don’t want to alarm you, Lucy,” Robert said, speaking in a way that made her wonder if he had rehearsed this speech, “but I think someone means to do you harm.”
Nodding, Lucy looked at him. “Yes, that seems a safe assumption. I don’t think that racks just fall off walls or that so many bugs find their way into beds without help.
Especially insects that should’ve been hibernating right now.
” It occurred to her that someone must have had to go literally digging for the bugs in the bitter cold.
Who would make such an effort? And why? Who hated her so much?
“So, the question that we have to answer is … Who would want to hurt you, and why?” Robert asked, echoing her thoughts.
“The list must be really short,” Lucy said. “I hardly know anyone here. How could someone have taken such a dislike to me so quickly?”
He shrugged and sipped his coffee. “Look, I think it’s safe to say that we have no idea who is after you.”
“Christopher,” she said flatly.
“He’s in love with you, not keen to kill you,” Robert said.
“None of the accidents have been lethal,” Lucy said. “I doubt I would have died from the material rack collapsing, and you said the scorpions weren’t deadly. Maybe he wanted to set me up as a damsel in distress and then rush to my aid.”
“But he didn’t seem to be anywhere in the vicinity last night,” Robert pointed out. “If he wanted to play the hero, one assumes he would have been near the hotel and pretended to respond to your panic.”
Lucy took a long sip of coffee.
“Even if it wasn’t him …” she said, logic, and what she hoped was a kind of sanity, ringing through. “Why would someone want to hurt me? I can’t think of a reason. I’m known as a seamstress here, for heaven’s sake.”
Robert nodded. “Maybe this has nothing to do with what you do here and has everything to do with your case back in Boston.”
Lucy stared at him. “What?”
“I’ve been puzzling it out all evening, and there is no other explanation that makes any sense. It has to have something to do with that case. So now I’m going to need you to tell me everything you can recall about it.”
Lucy swallowed. Could this be true? Could this be the reason that she was being attacked? Hadn’t she left all of that behind in Boston? It seemed not. Had she left in such a hurry that she hadn’t covered her tracks properly? It was possible that she had missed something.
Her heart sank into her toes. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything.”