"Rachel, Rachel, are you there?" The hushed voice came out of the darkness. She hesitated, unsure. "Rachel, it's me, Tim. I found our money. We have to leave. Now." Though still quiet, his voice took on a note of urgency.
Slowly, she emerged from her hiding place behind the bookshelves. "Tim, is it really you?"
"Yes, Rachel, it's me." He came over to her, and she buried her head in his chest. Tim looked around nervously, then put his arms around her and stroked her crimson hair.
"Is it over, Tim? Is it truly over? Are we finally free of that madman?" Rachel sobbed, the tears running down her cheeks. After so many years, she couldn't believe it.
"It will be as soon as we get out of here." He let go of her. "Now come on. We have to leave quickly, before we're discovered."
This time she noticed something in his voice beyond the fear of discovery. "Tim, what's wrong?" And she realized something else. "My God, you're shaking. Did something happen while you were gone?" He was quiet, and it scared her. "Tim, please, answer me."
"Nothing happened, Rachel. But we have to get out of here before anyone finds out what we are trying to do." He voice took on a slight whine. Rachel recognized it as his 'innocent' voice-the one he used when he was lying.
"Something happened," she said definitively. "What was it? Did someone see you? It couldn't have been too bad, or you wouldn't be here." She clasped his hands. "Why won't you tell me…" she trailed off as she felt a stickiness beneath her fingers. "Tim, what have you got on you hands?" She looked down and saw the crimson color. "This is blood." She began to panic. "Why have you got blood on your hands, Tim? What happened?"
"Calm down, Rachel, calm down," he said strongly. He gripped her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Now, nothing happened." He shook her ever so slightly. "Do you understand that? Nothing happened. You must believe that. For your own good."
She looked pleading into his eyes and saw how serious he was. She choked back her fear, knowing she had to be strong. Tim was her best friend, practically her brother. He would never do anything to hurt her. "Alright, Tim. Nothing happened. I believe you. Nothing happened."
He smiled at her. "Good girl. Now let's get out of here before the Trasks find us."
Silently and carefully, the two of them made their way to the front door and escaped into the darkness. They both said a silent prayer that they were leaving Worthington Hall behind forever.
* * *
As he passed the door to his office, he heard the low moan. "Who's in there?" he barked out, assuming it to be one of his more rambunctious pupils-young Griffith, perhaps. Up after bedtime, and in my office, Gregory thought. A severe punishment will befall him indeed. A grin broke over Trask's face. Yes, he would enjoy this.
His face turned gruff again as he shouted his question one more time. Still no answer came. Gregory took the oil lamp that lit the hall and opened the door.
As the light flooded into the room, he looked around. The office appeared to be empty, but the moaning came again. Glancing down, he saw his brother-in-law lying on the floor. He quickly knelt beside him. "Simon, what happened?" Gregory asked as he helped the older man to his feet.
Simon Briar shook his head, trying to clear it. "Tim-Tim Shaw-I caught him in here going through the safe. He must have hit me with that paperweight there." He pointed to a heavy glass ball which was lying on the floor near where he had fallen. Simon put his hand to the back of his head, feeling his wound. When he brought his hand down, it had blood on it. "Did a pretty good job of it, too. Probably left me for dead, that Timothy Shaw did. When I get hold of that young heretic, I shall make him repent his sins, if I have to beat him to death to do it."
Gregory bent over and picked up the paperweight in his handkerchief. "The police will want to examine this," he explained at Simon's questioning glance. "I'll call and have them track down Timothy Shaw."
"Better have them keep an eye out for Rachel Drummond, too. You know how close He and that harlot were. She's probably gone off with him." Simon chuckled in a deep, gravelly way as something occurred to him. "It's too bad for you that young Shaw didn't finish me off, Gregory. Then Minerva would inherit the school, and you would be in control as you've always wanted to."
"Simon, what a horrible thing to say. You know I am content to serve under your guidance." He glanced out the window. "Wait! Is that them out there in the yard?"
Simon turned away from Gregory to look out the window. He has barely gotten out "Where?" before he felt the crash of the paperweight against his skull for the second-and final-time.
"You were right, Simon," Gregory said as he replaced the weapon to its place on the floor. "It would have saved me the trouble."
He picked up the phone. "Operator, get me the Sheriff's office."
Shortly, a voice came across the line. "Sheriff's office. May I help you?"
"Yes, this is Gregory Trask at Worthington Hall. I need to report a murder here at the school."
"A murder?" questioned the sheriff. "Who's been killed?"
"Unfortunately the victim was my brother-in-law, Simon Briar."
"I'm very sorry for you, Mr. Trask. Mr. Briar was a pillar of this community. Do you have any idea who might have killed him?"
"Yes, I believe so. Two of my teachers are now missing, along with a large sum of money from the safe. I believe Simon must have surprised them during the robbery, so they killed him."
"And who are these missing teachers?"
"Timothy Shaw and Rachel Drummond."
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