“He couldn’t have meant it.”
Sadie whimpered. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Something’s not right.”
“Obviously,” Merry scoffed. “Please come with us.”
“He’s our brother.”
She shook her head. “He’s no brother of mine. Not any longer.” She pulled me into a tight embrace. “Be safe, please, Ellerie.”
I promised I would, pressing tearful kisses to her and Sadie before they stumbled off into the fiery dark.
* * *
I approached the square carefully, keeping beneath the blanketing shadows of the oaks, eyes darting and alert, my hatchet at the ready. All of the men looked indistinguishable from one another, and I bit my tongue to keep from calling Sam’s name.
Their movements were efficient and purposeful. Two men stood on an assembled platform, hammering posts into place. The others brought piles of kindling and larger sticks. Some even carried full logs. It was a wonder the men bothered with kindling at all. The entire town was ablaze; little more than a spark would be needed to set their macabre bonfire alight.
A new figure raced into the square, panting loudly. “Samuel Downing!” he barked out. “Show yourself!”
“What do you want, Simon?” Sam asked, separating himself from the pack. He’d been holding one of the stakes.
Of course he had.
My brother narrowed his eyes, squinting against the haze. “Your father has been looking for you. Says you’re shirking duties here.”
“I was with my wife, watching her give birth—to your daughter.”
The other men stopped working, stilling to watch this unexpected confrontation play out.
Watch.
Sam jumped down from the platform and landed solidly on both feet. “Oh really?”
“You son of a bitch! Couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you? How dare you even look at another man’s wife!”
Sam smirked, fire reflecting in his eyes. “You poor simpleton. You truly don’t get it, do you?”
A snicker rang out from the group behind Sam.
Simon’s eyes darted wildly from Sam to the other men. “Get what?”
“I always wondered how she managed to get it past you. Did she hide a vial of blood in the sheets on your wedding night, or were you just too stupid to look for it?”
“What are you talking about, Downing?”
Winthrop Mullins let out a hoot from the platform, tossing his hammer from palm to palm. In the firelight, he looked absolutely feral, a wolf circling in for the kill.
So he had fired first.
Poor Leland.
“She was already pregnant when she married you,” Sam said, snorting and buckling over with laughter. “And you were too dumb to notice.”
Simon shook his head. “That’s not true. That’s not possible. We—”
“How’s it feel to be the town’s biggest cuckold, Simon Briard? The laughingstock of Amity Falls?”
Simon’s jaw hardened as he fought back tears. He stepped away to leave, the men’s mirth turning ugly and jeering.
Then Simon paused, his face twitching with a tic of rage. As he spun back toward Samuel, he removed something from the back of his trousers and hurled it into the darkness.
The hatchet flew through the air, spinning in tight circles around itself, glittering and bright and reflecting the flames of our ruined town.
It struck Sam square in his chest, lodging deep with a wet, pulpy thwack.
Sam looked down at the handle, blinking in confusion, before falling to his knees. His body trembled once, then fell forward and moved no more.
I did feel the moment when he passed, a pair of scissors snipping the tenuous thread connecting us, rendering it impossible to repair.
“Sam,” I whispered, careful even in my grief to avoid being noticed.
Winthrop jumped off the scaffolding and flipped my brother over. I turned away.
“He’s dead,” he announced. Winthrop shot an uneasy look toward Simon. “You really killed him.”
“Good. Only one more to go,” Simon said, turning on his heel and running off into the night.
I drew a sharp breath, understanding his words.
Rebecca.
“Rebecca!” I cried, arriving at the parsonage. I’d run all the way, taking every shortcut I could. I had no idea if I’d managed to beat Simon back. Part of me had feared I was going to stumble straight into a bloodbath, but I’d pressed ahead, painful stitches stabbing at my sides. I’d already lost too many things I cared about. My heart couldn’t hold another regret.
Letitia was nowhere to be found when I burst into the confinement room.
Rebecca lay on the bed, the room heavy with the metallic taste of blood, but she was alive and well.
“Ellerie!” she exclaimed, looking up from the small bundle in her arms.
A moment of uneasiness passed between us. I waited for her eyes to harden, for a scowl to form.
But she smiled.
“Do you…do you want to see her?” Rebecca pulled back the quilt, revealing the smallest, most perfect profile I could imagine.
I reached out, wanting to trace the curve of her chubby cheek, but noticed my fingers were caked with grime and soot, and with a trace of remorse, I pulled them away from my niece.
“We have to get out of here,” I said. “Simon found out about Sam and—”
“I know,” she said, her face falling. “I’ve never seen him so angry. He left—to talk to Samuel, I guess, and—”
“Sam’s dead,” I said, unable to pad the blow. “Simon killed him. And he’s on his way to you.”
Rebecca tightened her hold on the baby, bringing the bundle closer to her chest. “We’ll hide. The Briards have a root cellar. We can lock it from the inside.”
“We’re leaving. Now. The town is caving in on itself. We have to get out of here before we’re all swept up in it. My sisters have a wagon ready. You’re coming with us. Both of you.”
She glanced down at the bloodied bedsheets. “But—”
“We’ll take every precaution we can, but we have to go,” I said, grabbing at spare quilts and sheets, anything to help pad the back of the wagon. “Now.”
* * *