Flynn looked up with a start. He eyeballed my shirt—Tim’s shirt—and the mud on my pants, and his expression darkened. Even with my weapon drawn, Flynn made me wary. All the things he’d done to Jasper were fresh in my mind—and what had Jasper done to deserve them? I’d planned to be long gone by now, halfway to the mainland. Instead I was face-to-face with a man who was hemorrhaging from a hole I’d put in his arm.

“Been working hard to find my brother, I see.” I could hear both innuendo and the onset of a drunken slur in Flynn’s voice.

“Someone screamed. What happened?”

“Is that right?” He reached for the bottle and topped off his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Didn’t notice. I’ve been sitting here all this time. Thinking of you.”

I felt my insides spasm. Flynn’s eyes glittered black as he held my gaze. The lights in the parlor flickered.

“Shana.”

I startled at the sound of Tim’s voice. “Did you see that?” I said. I was worried my eyes were playing tricks on me again, but Tim gave a stern nod. Above our heads, a floorboard creaked. Tim looked up at the ceiling.

“Upstairs,” he said; then to Flynn, “Stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Flynn said as he glared at Tim in his damp undershirt. “I can promise you that.”

I led the way out of the parlor and into the hall, where we ran into Norton coming out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?” he said anxiously. “I thought I heard a scream.” There was a dish towel slung over his shoulder and he smelled of raw garlic and lemon. Not even Flynn’s gunshot wound could stop this man from doing his duty for Camilla Sinclair.

“Wait here,” Tim said, and by the look on Norton’s face he was more than happy to oblige. The treads of the stairs groaned under our boots as we ascended. Halfway up, Tim’s eyebrows rose. Bebe Sinclair’s face stared down at us from the second-floor landing.

“Thank God you’re back,” she said, a long pearl necklace dangling from her throat into the abyss. I hadn’t noticed that necklace before, and as we continued to climb I saw she had pearl earrings to match. She’d changed the rest of her outfit, too. Now she wore a tight black skirt and matching mohair sweater. Her mourning clothes. “You,” she growled at me. “You’ll pay for what you did to my brother.”

“We heard a scream,” Tim said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing good,” Bebe replied. “As usual.”

Miles and Jade were in the second-floor hallway, near the room I’d identified earlier as a bathroom. Jade had her face buried in his chest. The bathroom door stood ajar and a light was on inside, but father and daughter blocked my view.

“You better take a look in there,” said Miles. He’d put on a fresh dress shirt he hadn’t had time to button, along with a tweed sport jacket. “It was Ned who found her, just a minute ago.”