She shrugged. “People do, though. People like to judge.”
“I have plenty of other people to judge,” Hugo smiled. “Real bad guys. I don’t have time to be puritanical.”
When they started walking again, Merlyn wrapped her arm around Hugo’s. “Do you mind?” she asked, her voice soft.
“No, of course not. You doing OK?”
“I think so. Pretty tired. I was thinking about writing a book about all that’s happened.”
“Is this an interview then?”
Merlyn laughed. “No, we’ll do that in a more appropriate location, not wandering the streets of London.”
“Such as?”
“My apartment?” Her eyes were wide, hopeful and teasing at the same time.
“Still married, Merlyn. And still a few years older than you.”
“I don’t care about the age thing,” she said. “And your marriage sucks.”
“Says who?”
“Am I wrong?”
Hugo ignored the question. “Apart from the book, what’s next for you?”
“Couple of things. I’m thinking of going pro.”
“Pro? As in …?”
“Pro domming. Being a dominatrix. Good money, and fun. Only part-time, though and, on the vanilla side, I’ve always been interested in history, so I may try and get a degree in that. I’ve always wanted to look into genealogy. It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”
“Sure. Lots of people in the States like to trace their family histories.”
“That’s what I’d heard. I could help them, maybe make some money while I’m at it.”
“You should do that. Start a business like that.” He slowed and pointed with his free arm to the alley’s entrance. They started down it and stopped where Meg Prescott had taken her last breath. “Here,” Hugo said. “This is where they found her.”
They stood quietly for a minute but, as ever, there was nothing to see. The menace that lurked in the alley on dark nights when the clouds hung low or when fog clung to this part of the city was absent today, and with no atmosphere to hold them, Hugo and Merlyn turned to leave.
They walked alongside the brick wall of the cemetery as Hugo described where he’d found Ginny Ferro. At the gates, Merlyn stopped.
“Can I tell you a secret, Hugo?”
“Sure.” He smiled. “I think I know most of them though.”
“You do.” A slight smile played on her lips. “But this one will blow your mind.”
“Fire away.”
“OK then.” She cocked her head, appraising him. “So, all that stuff that goes on at Braxton Hall. Do you feel like you understand it?”
Hugo sighed. “Merlyn, I don’t judge you. How many times do I have to say that? I don’t know why it matters what I think, but I don’t care what you do. I don’t care how you or anyone else get their kicks.”
She surprised him by smiling. “I just wanted you to know,” she said, “that I’m a virgin. That’s all.”
Hugo felt his mouth fall open and saw Merlyn’s grin as he quickly closed it. Her green eyes sparkled and she squeezed his arm.
She looked over her shoulder into the cemetery. “Do you mind if I go in alone?” she said. “Ginny was the only other person I told that to. And I’ve got some other things I want to tell her, stuff that you don’t get to hear about. Not yet, anyway.”
“Sure, take your time, I’ll be right here.”
“Thanks.” She flashed another smile, turned, and leaned on the iron gate. It stuck for a second, then swung open with a welcoming squeal.
Hugo watched as she strolled up the gravel path before angling off between the crooked gravestones, her fingertips casually brushing the tops of a few older stones. Her slim figure moved with an easy grace, a natural sway of the hips and a lightness that defied the horrors she’d lived through, flouted the solemnity and gloom that lay over the graveyard like a fog. She seemed, Hugo thought, almost childlike from this distance.
He turned his back to the cemetery, giving Merlyn her privacy, and smiled to himself as he perched on the low stone wall to wait.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever, I send my thanks to the kind people who took time to read the manuscript and point out its flaws and flourishes: Jennifer Schubert and Theresa Holland, your feedback was invaluable. I thank you.
I should also thank the real-world people who were so excited about becoming characters: Dayna Blazey, Chris Collings, James Booher, Jeremy Sylestine, and Bart Denum. I kept you safe in this book, but who knows what’ll happen in the next!
Also my thanks go to Inspector Peter Knight of the Hertfordshire Constabulary, who provided quick and helpful responses about police weapons and vehicles, and Liz Edwards at Madame Tussauds for her help on matters waxy. Also to Simon and Margaret Armitage for their input with regard to Weston Church.
Again and ever to Scott Montgomery and the fine people at Book People here in Austin, who continue to press my books into the hands of eager readers with faith that my stories will entertain. In fact, to booksellers everywhere: you rock.
Penultimately, to the professionals in my life: Dan, Jill, Meghan, and everyone else at Seventh Street Books, and my agents, Ann Collette and Taryn Fagerness, thank you for all you do!
Finally, to the precious ones in my life: Sarah, Natalie, Henry, and Nicola (this one’s for you!), I love you all so much and couldn’t do this without you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mark Pryor is the author of The Bookseller, The Crypt Thief, and The Blood Promise, the first three Hugo Marston novels, as well as the true-crime book As She Lay Sleeping. An assistant district attorney with the Travis County District Attorney’s Office in Austin, Texas, he is the creator of the true-crime blog D.A. Confidential. He has appeared on CBS News’s 48 Hours and Discovery Channel’s Discovery ID: Cold Blood.