My face stung and my head throbbed. “I can’t walk without my cane. So you’d better free my hands or you can carry me.”

I sounded half-drunk. She must have figured I wasn’t much of a threat in my condition because she leaned forward and slashed the tape binding my hands. Her gun, a little nine- millimeter Glock, made a return appearance.

“Now get out.”

She had parked near the orangerie and the back entrance to the Castle that was near Prescott’s wine cellar. At least I knew where I was.

I obeyed her with difficulty, climbing out of the trunk and managing not to fall flat on my face. Except for the sound of the whistling wind, the place was as silent as a graveyard. I looked up, hoping to see a face in the window above us.

“Don’t bother,” Victoria said. “Everyone’s gone. Open the door. It’s unlocked.”

It hadn’t worked last time, but I tried again, jamming the end of my cane into her ribs before she realized I’d done it. I heard the clunk of the gun as it hit the ground and stepped inside, shutting the door. She managed to pull it open, but as she entered I clubbed her again with my cane handle.

She went down hard, but this time she didn’t loosen her grip on the Glock. I took off as fast as I could. Two shots whizzed past me. At least she was a lousy shot. She had three, maybe four more bullets in the clip until it was empty. I turned a corner. I could continue straight, which was the way back to the elevator, but I probably didn’t have enough time. Turning left would take me to Prescott’s wine cellar. I wouldn’t make it there, either.

A few feet ahead of me I spotted a recessed alcove. Probably—knowing the Averys—displaying a piece of sculpture. Instead it contained a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. A string of white lights lay coiled on the ground. Someone hadn’t finished the decorations. I slipped between the tree and the wall as Victoria’s footsteps grew closer.

My timing was going to have to be perfect. I held my breath and shoved the tree. It fell onto her and she yelped with surprise as she went down among the branches and ornaments.

She was still clinging to the Glock, fighting to regain her balance. I grabbed her wrist, snapped it, and the gun clattered to the floor lying between the two of us.

“Hold it right there.”

I spun around. Kellie Avery, in a shooter’s stance, held a rifle pointed at Victoria and me.

“Kellie,” I said, “listen to me. Victoria killed your great-grandfather.”

It was a mistake to have turned my back on Victoria. Before Kellie could warn me, Victoria reached over and grabbed the Glock, aiming it at me.