CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Annie comes to visit me that night. The room is pitch-black during the night, but I can see her, so I know I'm dreaming. She is, as I remember her, tall and beautiful and full of life. She smiles at me and says, "Hey, sis. Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, huh?"

I laugh, but those laughs turn to sobs. “I’m done for, Annie. She’s beaten me. Sean warned me that one day, I would go too far and get myself into this kind of trouble, and he was right. I’m going to die.”

“No,” she insists. “You won’t. If you keep your wits about you, you’ll survive.”

“How? She can keep me here as long as she wants. She’s only waiting for a storm so she can get rid of me when no one’s looking.”

“But people are looking, Mary. Sean will be here soon. He’ll know something’s wrong when you don’t answer your phone.”

“Yes, but it could be too late, then. And Theresa… she’s different, Annie. She’s not like the others. She’s cunning. She’s a true killer. She’ll find a way to outsmart him.”

“Such little faith in the love of your life,” she chides. “Sean is a true detective. He’ll find you. And he’ll find a way to bring you to justice. You really don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

“But…”

“Enough,” she barks. “I’m not going to listen to you whine. You will survive if you stay sharp. You will die if you don’t. It’s that simple. So stay sharp and do what you have to do.”

“What do I have to do?”

“I won’t listen to you play stupid, either. Grow up, Mary. We’re not girls anymore. It’s time we admitted some things to ourselves.”

I think for a moment, and it quickly becomes clear what Annie means. “But how can I kill her? Even if I were capable of such—”

“You’re capable.”

There’s a hint of bitterness in what she says. I shudder at that and continue with my question. “I’m shackled to the wall. By the time she unshackles me, I’ll likely already be dead.”

“You won’t be. She likes to feel her victims struggle. She likes to feel them fight. You can’t fight if you’re already dead.”

“But she’s not stupid. She won’t risk it.”

Annie sighs. “I forgot who I’m talking to. You know everything, don’t you, Mary?”

I sob. “I just don’t want to die.”

“Then you have to fight. There’s no miracle here, Mary. There’s no magic button. There’s no, ‘If I do this, then everything will work out right in the end.’ You just have to do it even though you might fail.”

I sob again, this time with as much frustration as fear. Annie notices this and says, “That’s always been so hard for you. You’ve always needed to believe that if you make the right choices, you’ll receive rewards. But that’s not how it works. Sometimes, you make the right choices and still lose. It’s crappy, but it’s the truth. But what you never do is stop fighting. You never stop trying. No matter what.”

She turns to leave, but there’s one more question I need to ask her. “Wait!”

She stops and turns back to me.

“What did I say? In the hospital. And what did you say to me in my nightmare?”

She watches me for a long moment. A look crosses her face. I can’t tell whether it’s a look of compassion or a sneer of disgust. Perhaps it’s both.

She finally responds. “Not now.”

Then she is gone.

***

A loud crack of thunder wakes me from sleep. I’ve been hanging in this room for at least half a day with no hope for escape. And now the storm has come. Any chance I might have had has been taken from me.

I sob again, then shout in frustration. Damn it! Already? I don't even have time to prepare myself for the conflict to come.

Life’s not fair, Mary.

“I know it’s not bloody fair, Annie!” I hiss. “If it were fair, I wouldn’t be here! I’d be home in Boston, and I’d have a practice, and you’d be home, and you’d never have left me to what? To find yourself? To be free? Ha. I wonder, did you ever learn the lesson you taught me? That sometimes you lose no matter what?”

Annie, of course, doesn’t respond.

I take a deep breath and steady myself. It’s not likely that Theresa will kill me now. She hasn’t had a chance to torture me. There will be at least a few more storms before summer arrives. That gives me some time.

But how to make use of that time? My body aches all over from the tension between the shackles around my wrists and my ankles. Not to mention the fact that I have no food and water. As it stands, I probably have only three days left of life and only a few hours left with enough strength to fight.

So I have to outsmart her. The problem is that I see precious little chance to do that shackled as I am. I have no illusions about my ability to break through my bonds. My only chance will be if I can somehow free myself.

I can’t see anything. I can’t tell if there are any weaknesses in the shackles to exploit. With my hands chained as they are, I can’t reach into my pocket for my bobby pin. Perhaps the manacles are loose enough that with the right movements, I might be able to slip free.

I try pulling on them, but that gets me nowhere. Frustration and panic bubble up in me again, and I take deep breaths to calm myself. I don’t succeed.

“It’s too much. It’s too much, Annie. There’s too much against me and not enough for me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Tears fall again. I allow myself to weep until the panic subsides. That leaves me with an odd sense of wonder and a sense of something for Theresa that might be respect.

She has beaten me. She has well and truly beaten me. I don’t realize before now how highly I rate my detective skills or how sure I am of success and survival. There’s no good reason for it. Perhaps I have some skill as a detective, but it doesn’t help me here. I don’t realize Theresa is the killer until she’s already drugged me.

As for survival? Well, as Sean is fond of telling me, I am only alive because thus far I have been extraordinarily lucky. No more.

Sean.

Fresh tears come to my eyes. “I love you, Sean,” I whisper. “I love you. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

He’ll never hear me say that. The one man in my fifty-two years of life who I’ve felt anything for, and he’ll never hear me say it because I’ve finally gotten myself into trouble he can’t rescue me from. I’m such a fool.

Then I hear voices. Not one voice. Voices. Theresa is talking to someone. A man.

My heart leaps to my throat. “Help!” I scream. “Help me, please!”

I keep screaming, shouting until my throat is raw, begging God that my cries will carry as Sarah’s did, and that whoever is upstairs talking with Theresa will hear me screaming.

I scream for well over a minute before I hear footsteps rushing downwards. “Yes!” I cry out. “I’m over here! Help me!”

I see the beam of a flashlight rapidly approaching. “In here!” I cry. “Theresa’s captured me! She’s going to kill me!”

The flashlight beam crosses into the room. Then it lifts up. It falls on a face for a brief moment, and I see the snarling visage of Theresa Pemberton.

Then the flashlight comes down on my head. A star bursts in my vision, and everything goes haywire for a moment. My eyes flutter, my legs shake, my lips buzz, and my head swims, reeling from the force of the impact. The experience reminds me of a seizure. I've never had one, but my body acts the way seizures appear to act.

“Shut up!” Theresa hisses. “You fucking bitch!” If he’d heard you, I would have to kill him too, you fool!” She sighs. “Pipe down!”

I take a deep breath and regain control of myself. My vision still swims, and my head pounds, but I’m not shaking uncontrollably anymore. “You don’t have to kill anyone,” I tell her. “I’ll leave. I’ll go back to America, and I won’t tell anyone.”

She chuckles. “Just out of curiosity, did you actually expect me to believe that?” She sighs and looks out at the water. “You’re too risky. Damn it. I would have loved to play with you, but I can’t take that chance. I’ll have to get rid of you now.”

I prepare myself for the most important struggle of my life. “Are you going to throw me over the edge?”

“Aye. But I’m going to beat you to death first while you’re still chained up here.” She grins, and the look in her eyes is wild and sickening. “Can’t risk that you’ll somehow get the better of me.”

She lifts the flashlight, and a familiar, lovely, beautiful voice calls, “If that flashlight moves, I blow your sodding head off!”

“Sean!”

I burst into tears, but this time the tears are happy. The miracle has occurred. Sean has found me.

I hear more footsteps. Then Inspector Hargreaves calls, “Damn it! On your knees!”

Theresa’s eyes widen. “Help, Inspector! He’s threatening to kill me! Shoot him!”

“Don’t!” I cry out. “He’s my friend! Theresa’s trapped me here, and she’s trying to kill me! She killed Sarah. And Lady Evelyn and Lady Alivia.”

“Please listen to her, mate,” Sean pleads. “I’ve got me gun on Theresa because she’s about to bash Mary’s head in. I won’t let that happen, but please believe that Mary’s telling you the truth.”

A moment later, a light illuminates me. Inspector Hargreaves calls out, “My God. Mary? Theresa, what is the meaning of this?”

Theres’s eyes flit between me and the two men. A look of rage crosses her face. Then she chuckles. “Well, shite. Looks like it’s come to an end. I knew this would happen eventually. I tried to be careful, but you know how it is. The Devil comes to collect one day.” She looks at me. “God, I really hate that it’s you, though. You’re just some prissy busybody governess. I hoped it would be someone less annoying. Oh well.”

She turns around and sprints for the platform over the ocean. Inspector Hargreaves cries out and rushes after her. “Theresa! Don’t do it!”

Theresa doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t even slow down. Lightning illuminates the edge of the platform, and the last image I see of Theresa Pemberton is her choosing to go out on her own terms rather than face justice for her actions.