It was raining harder now, big wet drops that splattered the dust around them. Sebastian jerked out of the way, the rock grazing his shoulder as he kicked out. He landed a glancing blow on Jude’s thigh but lost his balance and went down again just as Jude pulled a knife from an unseen sheath at the small of his back. Sebastian fumbled for the double-barreled flintlock he’d tucked into his pocket and felt the hammer catch on the edge of his pocket.
Bloody hell. He jerked the pistol free just as Jude reared up, kicking the gun out of Sebastian’s hand and slashing at him with the knife.
Sebastian lunged sideways but felt Jude’s blade rip through the cloth of his coat to slice a line of fire through the flesh beneath. He turned the lunge into a roll, reaching down to yank his own knife from his boot as he came up again in a crouch.
Then he leapt back just in time as Jude slashed again, this time toward his face.
The rain came down in a torrent, drumming on the old weathered stones of the priory around them and flattening the grass in the cloisters. Sebastian was dimly aware of Hero circling around them. She’d retrieved his double-barreled flintlock from where it had fallen and now held it in a strong, two-handed grip. But the two men were too close together for her to risk a shot.
Then Jude plunged his knife toward Sebastian’s chest.
“No!” she shouted.
For one critical moment, she caught Jude’s attention and his focus wavered. Sebastian slammed his left fist into Jude’s wrist, knocking the blade aside as he stepped in to drive his own knife hard, like a sword, deep into the innkeeper’s heart.
Their rain-washed faces now just inches apart, Sebastian’s gaze met that of the man he’d just killed. He saw the shock in Jude’s dark brown eyes, saw his knowledge of imminent death fade to bewilderment and something else. Something that looked very much like confusion and hurt.
“Jamie?” Jude whispered, his eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed.
Sebastian caught his weight as he fell, eased the innkeeper’s body down into the rubble-strewn grass. Then he straightened, his breath coming hard and fast enough to jerk his chest.
Hero came to stand beside him, his flintlock pistol still held loosely in one hand. “Is he dead?” she asked, her gaze on the blood-smeared face of the man at their feet.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Sebastian didn’t say anything because there really was nothing to say. And she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close while the rain poured around them and his breathing eased.
Chapter 60
Thursday, 12 August
The inquest into the death of Jude Lowe was held less than twenty-four hours later, immediately after those that had already been scheduled. The verdict was justifiable homicide.
Afterward, Sebastian and Archie Rawlins walked out to the crossroads, where the blacksmith and two of his sons were working with pickaxes and shovels to dig up what was left of Hannah Grant. No one had given them official permission, but Sebastian suspected no one was going to stop them either, just as he had no doubt the vicar would allow Hannah to be reburied in the churchyard. There was much that was disgusting about Benedict Underwood, but there was some good there too.
Sebastian watched in silence as Miles Grant, his face wet with silent tears, tenderly placed his daughter’s skull in a wide-topped basket. Then Sebastian’s gaze shifted to the Ship, deserted now in the late-afternoon sunlight. He’d learned only that morning that Lowe was a widower, that his wife had died of fever less than a year ago. And he found himself thinking of Lowe’s three boys, and what would happen to them now.
Archie said, “I’m still having a hard time getting used to the idea that Jude Lowe has been killing people around here for fifteen years and more.”
“From the sound of things, he stopped for quite a few years in there.”
“I wonder why.”
“Perhaps there was no one he wanted dead.”
Archie pushed out a strangled huff of air. “I suppose that’s something to be grateful for.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “There’ve been so many deaths these last ten days. It’s not going to be easy for the people of the village to absorb it all. They’ve lost too many, over the years.”
“At least it’s finally over.”
Archie nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done. I never would have figured this out if you hadn’t been here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. If it’d been up to me, I’d have hanged the vicar. The vicar!”
“Jude Lowe was a very clever man.”
“He certainly fooled me. I hope to God I never have to face anything like this again.”
“You’ll do all right. Just keep an open mind and remember that simply because an explanation seems to fit doesn’t mean it’s true.”
They turned back toward the village, the towering old gibbet casting its long shadow across a section of the coach road left muddy by the previous day’s rains. After a moment, Archie said, “So how do you know when you finally have it right?”
“I’m not sure. You just do,” said Sebastian, and Archie threw back his head and laughed.