“What are you doing?” Jude’s voice pierced the silence like a gunshot. My heart plunged to my shoes, and I jumped, knocking the box to the floor. It sprang open, revealing a black, empty space. I spun around.
Jude stood in the doorway, looking outraged, his dark eyes glinting. A gym bag was slung over one shoulder, a racquet handle sticking out of its opening. He glanced at the box on the floor and then at me. His rugged chin thrust forward, and again he demanded, “What are you doing in my office?”
“I was…I just…” In a panic I could only stammer. Alone in a room with a potential murderer, an angry potential murderer, I was too scared to respond coherently! Gripping the bookshelf for support, I squared my shoulders and steadied my voice. “You said I could read Carson’s manuscript.”
“I said I would show it to you, but I didn’t say you could go through my things! That manuscript is entirely handwritten! It could be extremely valuable one day. Carson had it transcribed, but he agreed to let me keep the original. You can’t just barge in here and help yourself to it!” He stepped across the threshold and advanced toward me, the racquet handle swinging ominously at his side.
In that moment, I was like the rabbit Trey and I had cornered in our yard last spring, after it had eaten all the petunia buds. My eyes darted from left to right, just like the rabbit’s, looking for a way to escape as Jude came closer.
My alarm heightened. The seconds that had passed since Jude first startled me seemed to stretch into minutes. As if in slow motion, Jude edged forward until he stood in front of me. My mind raced, and I looked around for a potential weapon.
I could not let Jude hurt me as he’d hurt Marlette and Luella!
His arm reached out, and I lunged for the coffee table. Grabbing an oversized book, I swung it with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. It made contact with the side of Jude’s head with a resounding smack, and he crumpled to the floor.
He landed on his back, the gym bag skittering under the desk. His hand cradled the side of his head. “Ahhhh,” he moaned. “Why did you do that?” Slowly, he struggled to a sitting position. Shock and dismay radiated from his eyes.
“What were you planning to do to me?” I demanded, standing over him. My arms were tensed, preparing to strike him with the book again if need be.
Confusion spread across his face. “Do to you?” He touched the reddish bruise forming on the side of his head and winced in pain. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. Except kiss you again if I could.” He attempted a smile but grimaced instead. “I sure won’t try that again without making my intentions clear.” He eyed the book, which was getting heavier in my hands by the minute.
I wasn’t going to put it down just yet. “Tell me where you got the manuscript for The Alexandria Society.”
“The what?” His brow furrowed. “From Carson Knight, of course. He sent me an intriguing query, and after reading the manuscript, I offered him representation. Why are you so focused on Carson’s book?” He attempted to stand. I raised the book a fraction higher, and he lowered himself back to the floor. “Geez, Lila. What is wrong with you?”
“Carson’s novel is the same as the one described in Marlette’s query letter. A query letter to which you had access. Did you take the one from the flowers the day Marlette was murdered and destroy it? Did you help Carson steal the book from Marlette?”
“What? No! The first I ever knew of The Alexandria League was from Carson’s query. It had nothing to do with Marlette.” Comprehension made his face go slack. “You think I murdered Marlette? Oh my god, Lila, I swear—”
“And Luella? Did you frame her for Marlette’s death and then bump her off?” I lowered the book, my conviction that Jude was a killer now wavering. At the moment, he seemed more like a hurt and confused little boy than a calculating murderer.
He covered his face with his hands and shook his head. Eventually, he looked up at me with pleading eyes. “I can’t believe you think I’m even capable of…that kind of violence. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” A quick smile revealed his dimples, and then he became serious again. “I cared about Luella. I’d never hurt her.” He spread his hands wide. “And Marlette was a harmless eccentric. I wouldn’t raise a hand against him.” He shrugged. “Lila, how can I prove my innocence to you?”
I stepped aside to clear his way to the file cabinet, and though I still wanted to appear in control, I nonetheless softened my voice. “Show me the query. Show me the manuscript. Maybe then I’ll believe you.”
“Okay.” He raised himself to his knees and groped in his pants pocket. He pulled out an Audi key chain and selected a small silver key, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “Second drawer.”
Not wanting to turn my back on him, I said, “You open it.”