“Al Fox, a fortune hunter and a jewel thief,” Sydney murmured, things now coming together and starting to make sense to her.
Of course Martha had known Al Fox. Rather she had know him as Alan Foxglove. Martha was a rich young woman, the perfect prey for a good looking and charming if unscrupulous man – the same villain who had seduced Sydney into believing she was so loved.
Sydney was now certain she should know why the newspaper clipping had been in Fox’s room. The man would have to have some grudge against her... reason to hate her enough to set her up for murder. What in the world could that be?
And what of Martha Lord? Had the young woman plotted her brother’s murder with Alan Foxglove? Had she been willing to involve an innocent woman for her own financial gain? Or to be with the man she loved?
Sydney took a deep breath... and was sickened by the very real smell of smoke. She sniffed the air. Something burning nearby. Looking around, she saw a thick stream of gray curl through the crack beneath the study door.
Fire.
The house was on fire. And she wasn’t naive enough to think this was any accident.
The noises she’d heard had been made by a human being – one who obviously wanted her dead. She’d been too caught up in her find to pay heed to the warning. Folding the copy of the letter, Sydney stuffed it into her skirt pocket alongside the Tarot deck and ran to the study door.
Locked.
Trying not to panic, she kicked the wooden panel to no avail. That exit probably wouldn’t be safe, anyway, she told herself. She could feel the heat and hear the crackle of burning wood through the door. The smoke coming though the crack was even heavier now. Covering her nose and mouth with her hands, Sydney looked to the windows. The shutters were heavy and secured from the outside.
Wondering what she could use to break through one of them, she moved away from the door.
A split second later, the room went black.
Sydney...
Her heartbeat went wild at the familiar whisper and she turned toward the sound before she had time to think about what she was doing. Fox must be in the room with her, she realized, as she bumped into the edge of the wall unit. In the dark, she had no way of knowing exactly where, but he sounded close.
A thrill of fear shot down her spine as she thought about being alone with him.
Sydney, my love...
Him and his gun.
She held her breath to see if she could pinpoint Fox’s whereabouts. The only thing she heard was a soft hiss. The fire? Surely not. But what else could it be? Taking a shallow breath, she drew in some smoke and held back a cough by force. Her mind whirled as she tried to guess how Fox had gotten into the room. She hadn’t noticed another door, but if he’d gotten in, she could get out, she told herself encouragingly. All she had to do was avoid him and find the exit in the dark.
Sydney, my love, I’m waiting. Come to me.
That hope died as Sydney realized the sound was as much acoustic as human. Fox wasn’t there at all. The hiss was coming from the speakers in the wall unit. His voice was being piped in from somewhere else.
This is how he had done it, then, frightening her to the edge of despair. He’d recorded his voice, used some kind of amplification system to play the same words and phrases over and over in the same eerie way.
And she was certain he was doing so now merely because he enjoyed her fear.
Another sound – the crackle and pop of burning wood – made her turn to see flames licking the edges of the door. The fire was spreading fast, no doubt due to the amount of timber in the house and aided by the high wind.
Dear God, unless she found a way out fast, she would be trapped in a raging inferno.