"Of course," Logan said.

"Then I'll call in some backup," Forester said, "and we'll get to it tonight."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Logan said.

"Where are Kelsey and Jane?" Sloan asked.

"Kitchen, I believe," Forester told them.

Logan and Sloan headed out of the Great Hall to the kitchen. Kelsey was sitting there with Chef and Harry and Devon.

"Something to eat?" Chef asked.

"No, thanks. We had some horrible food in town," Logan told him.

Chef grinned. "I do have the reputation for being the best around."

"I'd not argue it," Logan a.s.sured him.

"Why would you stop in town when you're staying here?" Chef asked. "And how were you out when the rest of us are prisoners here? Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're Feds."

Logan slid into a seat at the kitchen table. "We went to hear gossip."

Sloan remained standing. He still didn't know where Jane was. "We heard a lot of interesting gossip. Apparently, not many people liked Mrs. Avery. In fact, they seemed to think that she was trying to make everything in the world go wrong for Emil Roth."

Chef shrugged. "She treated him like he was a kid. When he hired me, not long after his dad died, they had a huge fight. I overheard them. She told him that he didn't have the know-how to run anything and that he shouldn't make decisions without her. I'm surprised he didn't kill her. He was the heir, but she acted like she owned everything."

"But he didn't kill her, did he?" Sloan asked.

"Emil?" Harry asked. "He's a decent guy. He's like a regular guy, but with money. He'd be normal as h.e.l.l if people like Mrs. Avery didn't keep telling him that he had responsibilities as if he were Spiderman or something."

"Where's Jane?" Sloan asked them.

Kelsey, who'd been sitting at the table, frowned. "I'll go see."

"Wait. I'll just try her phone," Sloan said.

He dialed Jane's number and listened as they continued to talk.

"The people in town even seemed to think that Avery hired only attractive maids to try and get Emil involved with them," Logan said.

"Was that her plan?" Harry asked.

"I never had it figured as an actual plan," Devon said. "Go figure. That dried up old prune of a biddy setting Emil up for s.e.x!"

"Did it work?" Logan asked "At first, maybe. A few girls wound up being fired for various infractions. Oh, never for flirting with or co-habiting or whatever you want to call it," Chef said. "They'd be fired for failing in their duty, for disturbing a guest, things like that."

Logan heard an unspoken but. "What?"

"That all ended a few months ago," Devon said.

"Just spit it out, they know everything," Harry said. "They're Feds, remember? Emil is crazy about Scully Adair. And Scully is crazy about him. I don't know how they were managing to hide it from Mrs. Avery. All the rest of us knew."

"But, he did see people before that?"

"Yeah, sure. He's young, good-looking, rich. Who wouldn't have seen him?" Harry asked.

Jane's phone was ringing and ringing with no answer. Sloan ended the call and looked at Logan and Kelsey.

"Now we go and find Jane," he said. "She's not answering, and I'm pretty sure I know who we're looking for. Kelsey, go get the detectives. Logan, will you search the house? I'm heading out to the chapel."

"What can we do?" Chef asked.

"Stay put," Sloan told him.

Jane cautiously stepped out of the church. The overcast sky seemed to have fallen closer to the ground, a dense fog rising to meet it. The graveyard, benign by day, now seemed to hold dozens of places to hide. Winged angels cast shadows over crooked stones. Trees grew at a slant and gargoyles loomed over tombs, warding off all evil. Standing in the doorway for the chapel, she was in clear view.

"You know I have a gun and I do know how to use it," she said, addressing the graveyard. "You might as well come out. I'm sure that you want me to think that Scully Adair is doing all this. After all, you know that Scully is a descendant of Margaret Clarendon. And you must have heard that there were a few references to the fact that Margaret was suspected of having helped Elizabeth along to her death. But, you know what? I don't think that Scully herself knows that she has any relationship to the castle. Margaret's child with Emil Roth went up for adoption. We only found out the truth because we have access to all kinds of records. Phoebe, you were good. I mean that scream you let out when you found Reverend MacDonald was really something. And the shock in your eyes? Amazing. So, you had an affair with Emil Roth. You thought you were the one. And I don't believe that you did kill Cally Thorpe. That was really just a tragic accident. But if people started dying at every wedding, that would give the castle a real reputation. But that wasn't enough. You figured you'd get rid of Mrs. Avery. Make it really ghostly. You hated her, because she sucked you in. She fed you the story about Scully and her being a descendant of Margaret. You thought you'd replay history, except this time you'd win!"

Jane barely ducked in time as a piece of broken plaster wing off a cherub came flying her way. By the time she was up again, her quarry had moved. Slinking low, she ran from one tomb to the next.

"Phoebe, my Krewe will have figured it out by now, too. Killing me will get you nowhere. Nor is there anywhere for you to go. You'll be arrested, and you'll face murder charges. If you give yourself up right now, I can try to help you."

Jane had moved away from the chapel a fair distance. Phoebe was leading her to the rear, a place where the graves began to ride down the slopes off the cliffs. She raised her head, trying to see in the near darkness. She thought she heard something-coming from behind her.

She was certain that Phoebe was before her!

Something thumped into the gravestone she'd ducked beneath.

An arrow.

She heard laughter from the fog-riddled graveyard before her, eerie in the strange dying light and the cool air.

"No one gets married here! They don't marry here. They die here!" Phoebe called to her.

Jane thought she heard a snapping sound on the ground, coming closer. She rolled quickly and slunk on the ground, staying low. She was armed and she could aim. But she couldn't make out a d.a.m.ned thing to shoot at.

"Brides die!" Phoebe cried, laughing.

The sound was both ahead and behind Jane.

In fact, it seemed to come from all around.

Sloan was quickly on his feet, racing to the back of the house. At the rear exit from the kitchen, he thought that he felt someone behind him.

He turned.

And she was there. Elizabeth Roth.

She stared at him with a drawn face and worried eyes.

"I'll find her!" he promised.

"The fog has fallen," Elizabeth said.

"I'll find her!" he said. "Come with me?"

"I can't leave the house."

"Try."

She shook her head.

He couldn't wait.

He bolted out of the castle and was instantly astounded by the pea soup of New England fog he found himself within. He could still see the spire of the chapel, so he headed toward it. He made his way through the gate, down the path, and threw the chapel door open.

Jane wasn't there.

But he heard something.

Laughter.

Eerie in the strange fog. It seemed to come from the left, and then from the right.

"Jane!" he shouted. "Jane!"

He heard her reply.

And as he did, he realized that shouting had been a mistake. She was might be risking her life to shout out a warning to him.

"It's Phoebe and someone else, Sloan! Someone else with a bow and arrow, hunting us down," Jane shouted back to him.

He dropped to the ground just as something whizzed by his head. He tried to calculate the source of the arrow that had come his way. But whoever was shooting with a bow and arrow was now halfway around the church.

The laughter had come from the far rear.

On his hands and knees, he crawled around the graveyard.

Jane tried to determine where she was, but with the distance they'd come she thought she might be in the back of the chapel, near the cliffs.

"I'm going to get you!" Phoebe said, her voice startlingly near.

She couldn't see anything. So how could Phoebe?

She didn't reply.

Then Phoebe began to chant. "Good girls die, the b.i.t.c.hes lie, the brides go straight to decay. This time round, the good girl dies and the b.i.t.c.h's lies will let her win the day!"

"How do you see this as winning?" Jane cried out. "Emil is seriously in love with Scully. He'll marry her and you'll go to jail."

"Not true. Scully is right here with me. And if you don't show yourself now, she's going over the cliff!" Phoebe cried.

"I don't believe you. Scully was in the castle."

"She's here now. Wanna hear her scream?"

Jane heard a m.u.f.fled cry.

Scully.

She winced, bracing against a gravestone.

"If you don't come out, she goes over the cliff right now!"

Sloan was out there, too, she thought. He had to be.

She'd be all right.

Or would she?

Sloan kept silent and crept along the earth.

Another arrow flew past. That one, he was sure, had been sent blindly. He crept for what seemed like a lifetime but, looking at his watch, he saw that two minutes had pa.s.sed. Another arrow flew by. This time he saw the arch and pattern.

He crept in the right direction.

Slow and silent.

At last he found himself behind the archer.

He waited and watched, forcing himself to be patient.

When the archer went to string another arrow, he pounced.

And together, they started rolling downhill.

Jane realized there was nothing to do but stand. Her Glock was tucked into the back of her jeans.