He immediately saw the dark figure slumped over one of the rows, and he smelled the heavy rust of blood before he got halfway down the aisle. His steps faltered, and for a moment his vision wavered and memories threatened to crash into him . . . then he pushed through.

Blessedly, the moment passed.

When he realized it wasn’t Mrs. Bright hanging over the back of a pew, Bradford had a moment of numb relief, followed by fury over yet another wasted life, and then the renewed frustration over the housekeeper’s disappearance.

Knowing her, she’d interrupted the killer and then tried to chase him or her down. He wasn’t certain whether to hope she’d succeeded or not.

Myrtle had ceased barking and now simply sat, staring with silent concern at the inert body of Rita.

There was nothing else Bradford could do for the maid, and the absence of any of the authorities indicated that they hadn’t been notified. The girl’s body was cold but had not begun to stiffen, so she couldn’t have been here for long. Hardly more than an hour, he guessed.

Which meant that Mrs. Bright couldn’t have been gone for very long, either.

“Let’s go,” he said to Myrtle. “Let’s find Mrs. Bright.”

The dog gave a short yip of comprehension and having first done her duty of alerting him to the unfortunate maid, she now bolted toward the door for a different task.

Outside the church, Bradford looked around for any sign of where Mrs. Bright might have gone. Although he’d been playing about with Myrtle and her ability to sniff out the housekeeper, it was mostly a game in a limited area. The dog was still young and easily distracted, so he wasn’t about to rely solely on the mop and her immature abilities. Aside from that, Myrtle couldn’t sniff her out if she’d been bundled into a motorcar and driven off.

His jaw set grimly, Bradford started toward where he’d found the abandoned torch and looked around for footprints or any sign of struggle. There was a tree branch on the ground where it shouldn’t have been, and the crushed bush next to where it had fallen indicated some sort of altercation.

Mrs. Bright definitely hadn’t been alone. But had she been attacked, or was she the pursuer?

Myrtle was barking and bouncing with excitement, so—since it couldn’t hurt—he said, “All right, go find the addled woman, Myrt! Find Mrs. Bright!”

Myrtle dashed off into the night, leaving Bradford to follow at a brisk run.