"Linzi, for God's sake!" The deep voice was urgent, sounded almost desperate. Hands took hold of her shoulders and lifted her off the floor, an arm slid underneath her, the warmth of it striking through what she was wearing. "Say something.... Wake up!" The change of position made her cough, and coughing hurt her raw, swollen throat.
"It hurts...., my throat...."
She moaned, her long, darkened lashes stirring against her white cheeks. "Don't talk then, but open your eyes!" he urged.
His will was so strong that she slowly, reluctantly obeyed, to find him kneeling beside her, supporting her with one arm, bending over her, his face close to hers. Fear and panic cramped her insides and she pushed him away weakly.
"No! What are you doing, Ritchie? Are you mad? Barty will kill you if he finds you're here! You shouldn't have come! Please..., go away...."
She tried to get up but her legs were weak underneath her, she stumbled and almost fell over again. As she clutched at a nearby chair to support herself, she caught sight of Barty, lying on the floor a few feet away. Linzi froze in shock. What is he doing on the floor? Did he had a fight with Ritchie? Did Ritchie knock him out? And then she noticed the dark blood matting his brown hair, blood crawling slowly down his white, cold face.
"Barty!" she shuddered, clutching at the chair-back. "Barty..., My God..., what..., what..., ?"
She threw herself down beside him, shivering, trembling. He wasn't moving. He didn't open his eyes to look at her as she called his name. There was blood trickling down into his lashes, she sobbed drily as she bent down to kiss his lips.
"Darling..., oh, Barty, wake up..."
His mouth was cold and stiff. She lifted her head to look at him again, her blue eyes glazed and enormous, her blood ran cold at the strange immobility of his body. His chest wasn't rising and falling. She tried to listen for the sound of his breathing but panic made her heart beat too fast, deafening her.
"Barty! Barty!" She cried out, and tried to lift him up but his body was too heavy for her. He was dead weight in her hands. She looked down at him, eyes wild and wide, shaking him.
"Stop it, Linzi!" Ritchie said curtly. "There's no use. He's dead." A strangled cry broke from her. "No! Don't say that, don't tell me that, he isn't, not dead...., not dead...., Barty...., wake up, Barty!"
She caught his wrist, searched for a pulse, found nothing, put her head on his chest, trying to hear his heartbeat, all the time sobbing breathlessly, trembling. Ritchie tried to pull her away, up to her feet, and she resisted him, shaking her head, her long, silvery hair swinging around her pale, shocked face, her lids like bruised violets.
"Leave me alone!"
"You can't do anything for him, Linzi!" Ritchie's face was grim, his voice rough. "I told you..., he's dead!" "Don't say that! He isn't. He can't be. We must be able to do something! A doctor..., we must get a doctor..., we must get an ambulance..., take him to a hospital..."
She turned towards the phone, and that was when she saw the old brass candlestick that her Aunt Ella had given her for a wedding present. It was one of a pair which always stood on a small table by the window. Now it lay on the floor, a foot or two from Barty, and there was dark blood smearing the solid pedestal foot of it.
Linzi stared dumbly at it for a second. It felt as if eternity passed. She looked at the candlestick and then at Barty, and then she looked slowly up at Ritchie, who was very pale, his face harsh.
"Don't look like that!" he said in a low voice. "He was trying to kill you, he'd all but choked the life out of you! He had to be stopped!"
"You killed him..." she whispered, her mouth even whiter than her skin. "Oh, God, my poor Barty! You killed him---"
From the open door of the flat came a gasp and Ritchie spun around. The woman from the flat next door stood there, staring round-eyed with curiosity. She took in Barty on the floor, covered in blood, Linzi kneeling beside him, then her eyes moved to Ritchie. An odd succession of reactions went across her face, shock, horror then suddenly fear. She began to scream and stumbled out again, screaming.
Icy coldness engulfed Linzi, she fell forward across Barty in a dead faint.
The next time she opened her eyes the flat seemed to be full of people. She was lying on the couch although she had no idea how she had got there. Nobody was taking any notice of her, she half lifted her head to stare around the room. What had happened? Who were all these people? She recognised her next-door neighbour, talking to a man in a uniform. Linzi's dazed eyes took in the familiar blue serge, the shiny buttons.
Policemen, she registered. What were they doing here? Another policeman was talking to Ritchie, who was very pale and looked grim. Linzi felt a shiver run through her. A memory pricked, faint and disturbing, something about... Barty?
Barty? she thought, moving slightly, and then someone in white bent over her. "How do you feel now, Mrs York?"
Ritchie turned sharply. She felt his grey eyes touch her and trembled, looking away from him. "Barty?" she whispered, searching the room for him. There was a shape on the floor, covered with a white sheet. Linzi began to scream, tried to sit up. "Bartyyyy!"
Ritchie took a step towards her, one of the policemen caught hold of his arms and held him back. Linzi had sensed his movement. She looked at him with stricken eyes. "He's dead, isn't he?" Hysteria welled up inside her and she sobbed tearlessly, her voice ragged. "He's dead and you killed him!"
Ritchie seemed to grow paler, his grey eyes so dark that they looked almost black, but he didn't speak, just stared at her.
YOU ARE READING
Guilty Love (Completed)
Romance"Everything I did was for you!" "For me? You killed my husband for me? Do you really think I wanted him dead? I loved him!" It was an obsessive passion. It had gone too far, and Linzi's husband had died as a result of it. Ritchie Calhoun was sexy an...
