Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

“She’ll have to know soon. I just wanted to give her a little recovery time.” The recovery time that Jane had been denied. Death upon death, shock after shock. “Like Marie, I want to do the right thing, but I’m not sure what that is. Everything’s a blur right now.” She started to turn toward the elevator. “I’ve got to finish with my suitcases, then come down and pack up those three paintings. At least, it will keep me busy until I can start thinking again. I seem to be having trouble with that-”

MacDuff muttered a curse.

She turned to look at him, but he was staring at something on the floor. “What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze. “Why did-”

A thin trickle of blood was running under the door of the office.

She stared at it, stunned.

Then she slowly moved toward the door.

“No,” MacDuff said sharply. He stepped in front of her.

“Don’t tell me no.” She pushed him aside and opened the door.

The blood was running slowly down the side of the table by the door. It was coming from a huge cardboard floral box on the table.

She slowly crossed the few feet to stand before the table.

“Don’t touch it.” Jock was there beside her, his hand on her arm. “Don’t open it. Please, Jane.”

“I have to open it.”

“No way,” MacDuff said. “Get her upstairs, Jock. Carry her if you have to do it.”

“No.” Jane jerked her arm away from Jock. She glanced at MacDuff, and said fiercely, “I’m not going to hide away from this. Keep your hands off me. I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking the same thing. But I have to know .”

“Then let me do it,” Jock said.

“It’s not addressed to you,” she said bitterly. “It’s addressed to me, aimed at me.” She reached out with a shaking hand and untied the silver ribbon. She took a deep breath and then lifted the lid of the box.

Blasphemer .

The single word on the card nested in the green tissue paper.

The tissue paper now soaked in blood.

She stared down at the paper.

Do it.

She pushed aside the paper.

Dark eyes staring up at her, dark hair drenched in blood.

She flinched back.

“Jane.”

Her stomach was heaving.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered. She couldn’t stop staring down into Yvette Denarve’s eyes. “I didn’t know her, MacDuff. I hadn’t even met her.”

MacDuff pulled her back and stepped between her and that box on the table. “No, it shouldn’t have happened. And you shouldn’t have opened that damn box.” He took out his handkerchief and was wiping her hand. “Now get out of here and go upstairs.”

Why was he wiping her hand? She wondered dazedly. She looked down at the pristine white handkerchief and saw streaks of blood on it. Oh, yes, she’d gotten blood on her hand when she’d pushed the green tissue paper aside.

Yvette Denarve’s blood on her hands. Celine’s blood on her hands.

“Go upstairs,” MacDuff repeated. “Jock and I will call Venable and take care of this.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him. It was one shock too many. She had to pull herself together before she could cope with any more.

And she would cope with it. Monstrosities like these couldn’t be allowed to happen.

“Yes. Take care of it.” Take care of the remains of an innocent woman who had done nothing to deserve this butchery. She wheeled and half staggered toward the elevator. “And then come and talk to me.”

IT WAS OVER THREE HOURS LATER that MacDuff and Jock stepped out of the elevator.

MacDuff gazed at Jane searchingly. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Jane said. “I’m not okay. I threw up twice, and I couldn’t stop shaking for over an hour. I’m still sick and I’m angry and I’m scared to death.” She got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. “I just made coffee. First, I had to take a shower. Though I was tempted to leave those traces of blood on my hands to remind me what they did to her.” She glanced at him as she poured coffee into the cups. “But I didn’t need any reminders. This is going to be with me for the rest of my life. And that’s why I’m so angry that every other emotion I’m feeling is fading into the background.”

“None of this is your fault, Jane,” Jock said.

She knew that was true, but it was difficult getting over that first feeling when she had looked down and seen the blood on her hands. “Not directly. But I have to have been the trigger,” she said. “Even if it was those monsters that actually did the killing.” She handed MacDuff the cup, making an effort to keep her hands from shaking. She couldn’t give in to weakness. The time was past when she could allow herself that luxury. “How did that flower box get here? It couldn’t have been more than a few hours from the time that they killed her. They had to work very quickly.”

“The box was delivered by a man in a postal uniform together with a few other boxes and a bunch of cards. The box was heavy cardboard, and there was no blood on it when it was delivered. There were even a few utility bills for Celine in the mix. They had it all planned in advance.”

“Like they did Yvette’s death. They knew her sister would come to Paris when she heard that Celine was murdered.”

Jock nodded. “They were probably watching her to see if she would drive or take the train from Lyon.”

And Yvette had driven that highway, and they had brutally taken her life, taken her head, and thrown her body into the woods. The memory was causing her to shake again. She had to keep control.

“Was there any problem with-Did Venable take care of everything?”

He nodded. “He had someone here right away. He’ll arrange for her death to look like a traffic accident, and he won’t let anyone know the gory details.” His lips twisted. “That may piss Millet off. I’m sure the bloody bastard likes to take credit.”

“Good.” She handed a cup to Jock. “Yvette wasn’t married, but did she have anyone close to her besides Celine?”

“Not as far as Venable can find out. Why?”

“Because we can’t be sure who would be safe. The ugliness is spreading out like ripples from the center of a whirlpool. I wanted to be sure to protect anyone who needed to be protected.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And it seems as if anyone who even nodded at me on the street might fill that criteria. I want you to tell Venable that Marie Dessault has to be protected.” She looked at MacDuff. “And Joe and Eve will be close to the top of the list. I have to make sure to keep them safe. Will you help me?”

“Of course. How?”

“I’m going to bring them to MacDuff’s Run. The people in your villages and the estate are almost slavishly loyal to you. I can’t imagine anywhere they’d be safer.”

“Neither can I.” He paused. “That’s why I wanted you to come home with me.”

“I’ll have to come for a little while. Eve and Joe wouldn’t consent to go if I didn’t. I may have trouble getting them there anyway.” She had another thought. “Eve’s mother lives in Atlanta. It shouldn’t be as much of a threat for her, but I’ll have to make sure Joe arranges security for her at her condo.” She turned back to Jock. “And you’ll come to the Run, too. When you killed Folard, the chances are that you set yourself up for the same kind of retribution they’re dealing out to me. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded. “But I knew that was a possibility. I made the choice.”

“Well, you didn’t give me the choice. I won’t have your blood on my hands, too. And what about all the people who are close to you? How are you going to keep them from being hurt?”

“My mother is dead now,” Jock said. “I have no one close to me they can hurt.” He glanced at MacDuff. “Except the Laird, and he can take care of himself.” He smiled. “Unless you’d like me to stand over you and shoo all the wicked villains away? It would be my pleasure.”