Chapter 35

I sat on one of the dining room chairs while waiting for Miles to return downstairs. I leaned forward with my elbows resting on my knees as I stared at Vincent’s lifeless body. The pool of blood had grown and was only inches away from my foot. I could have started cleaning, but Miles was the one who created this mess.

He ran upstairs to comfort Maisie. I only heard her shouting once, but they have been silent since. I was unsure how long he would stay upstairs, but my craving for a glass of whiskey grew as each minute passed.

The intruder was an unknown drunk. It was unlikely that anyone noticed he was missing. Vincent was different. Edith would have known he came here angry. When his family noticed he was missing, this would be the first place the police would come. Miles would be their prime suspect because Vincent and his sons always hated him.

The stairs creaked as Miles came back into the kitchen. He had not washed the blood off his skin. He stood over Vincent’s body with his arms crossed over his chest.

“We have to fix this,” I said.

“We can put him next to the intruder,” he said.

“This is not as simple as burying the body,” I said. “People will know he is missing. We have to hide that he ever came here.”

“How do we do that?”

I let out a deep breath and ran my hand across my jaw.

“Vincent’s carriage is outside,” I said. “After we get rid of the body, we need to abandon the carriage and horse on the side of the road. We have to make it look like he was never able to make it to our home.”

“You think it will be believable?” he asked.

“We will make it look like an unfortunate accident,” I said. “We will tip the carriage over, and coyotes will tear the horse apart over the night. People will assume that the same thing happened to Vincent. They will assume he is dead.”

Miles nodded in approval. He bent down and grabbed Vincent’s arms, whose head rolled back at an awkward angle. His eyes were open, and his frozen stare was focused on me. I shuddered as I thought about how easily Miles took the man’s life.

Miles managed to throw Vincent’s body over his shoulder like the full-grown man was weightless. His pants were soaked from kneeling in the blood, and crimson streaks were running down the back of his shirt from Vincent’s sliced throat.

“Open the door,” he told me.

I decided to make no comment about him ordering me around. He had created a mess, and it was going to take us all night to clean. I did not want to waste time arguing about small details. I hooked my finger under the chain as I walked toward the door. After unlocking it, I held it open for Miles to carry Vincent outside. He lingered on the porch to watch me secure the lock again.

Neither of us said a word as we buried Vincent’s body. I grabbed two shovels from the barn while Miles carried him to where we had buried Clara. Her grave was still fresh. Only a few blades of grass started to poke through the pile of dirt. I struggled to see in the darkness, but I did not want to risk having a lantern. If any of Vincent’s sons, especially Oliver, noticed he was gone for too long and came to the house looking for him, I did not want them to see us digging. We would not be able to form an elaborate enough lie to prevent them from going to the police.

My arms ached by the time we piled the last shovelful of dirt onto the grave, and I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm. My clothes were splattered with dirt, and I was positive I had streaks smeared across my skin.

“We need to change our clothes before we get rid of Vince’s carriage,” I said.

Miles grunted a response. I tossed the shovels back into the barn on our way back to the house. The lantern in the kitchen was still burning. In the glow of the light, I could see Miles was covered in a mixture of blood and dirt.

“Do not let Maisie see you like that,” I said.

Miles glanced down at himself. He held out his hands to examine his arms, but the blank expression on his face did not change. Did he have any regrets about what happened?

“Go wash up,” I said. “I’ll bring you something to wear.”

“Your clothes won’t fit me,” Miles said.

“You cannot go out like that, and I cannot dispose of his carriage on my own,” I said. “If someone sees you, we’ll be done.”

Miles turned his hands to examine his arms better. If he went into his room like this, Maisie would panic. She would scream, cry, and carry on for longer than necessary. She would look at him in fear, much like she had when I had first brought her into our home. I did not want to waste time trying to calm her down.

“Go wash up,” I said again. “I will get you your clothes.”

“Maisie is in my room,” he said. “She should be sleeping.”

“Then I will be quiet. This not up for debate.”

Miles glared as I went up the stairs, but he did not follow. The floor creaked under my steps as I walked down the hall. In my room, I changed out of my dirty clothes before going to Miles’s bedroom. I tried to be quiet, but the hinges on the door were loud as I walked into the room. Maisie pushed herself up and dug the heel of her hand into her eyes. She must have been able to fall asleep since she spoke to Miles. No noises came from Briar’s crib.

I said nothing as I went to Miles’s dresser and searched for his clothes in the dark. How would I explain this all to her? It was better that I kept her naive about how we were disposing of Vincent’s body and carriage. I was not in the mood to answer a series of repetitive questions.

The room filled with a dim glow. I looked over my shoulder to see Maisie sitting on the edge of the bed. She had turned on the oil lamp sitting on their night stand. Strands of her blonde hair had escape her braid. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to get rid of her exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” I told her. “We’ll be back inside soon.”

“Joseph,” she said. “Did he do it?”

I raised a brow as I watched Maisie yawn. It was probably some kind of tired and delusional ramble. Clara was never able to sleep when we had our newborns, leading to periods where her mind was clouded with exhaustion. Maisie would probably not remember any of this in the morning.

“You need to sleep,” I said.

“The church,” Maisie said before rubbing her eyes again. “Did he do it?”

I sighed as I set the stack of clothes on the dresser. Miles never talked about the church. How did she know? Even if she overheard Vincent, he never mentioned the accident. Clara must have told her before she died. They were inside the house together all day, so they must have discussed it. The accident was like a dark cloud that followed this family.

Hopefully, Miles was already washing away the blood and dirt. If he saw the light pouring into the hallway, he would come into the room to check on Maisie. She was tired but would still panic if she saw him looking so grotesque.

I walked over to the bed and got on one knee in front of Maisie. Her eyes were barely open, and she ran her hand over her hair to push back the stray strands.

“You know about the fire?” I asked, and she nodded. “I don’t know what happened, but everyone blamed him. They all thought there was something wrong with him.”

“I think there is,” Maisie said. Her words were soft and mumbled. “There is something wrong with his brain.”

“Maisie-“

She reached forward, placed her hand on my bicep, and shook her head. A small smile formed on her lips. I furrowed my brows because she was not upset about what she had just said. She knew he was different, but she was not bothered by it.

“I love him,” she said. “There is something wrong with the way he thinks, but his intentions are good. He loves me.”

“Maisie, go back to sleep,” I said.

I did not have time to listen to her exhausted rambling. We still had to get rid of Vincent’s carriage, and we needed to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I pulled her hand off my arm.

“He would never hurt me,” Maisie said. “Even after all of this, I’m not scared of him.”

I got off my knee. Maisie did not move, so I grabbed her legs and forced her to lie down. She did not fight me and rolled onto her side to settle herself on the bed before letting out a sigh. I pulled the blankets over her body, and her eyes were already closed. The small smile remained.

“Thank you,” Maisie said. “For everything.”

I reached forward and ran my fingers over her soft hair. My body moved like I had no control of my actions. Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the side of her temple. She did not stir at my touch. Her breathing soon became deep and rhythmic. I lingered next to the bed, touching her hair and watching her sleep longer than I should have.

After turning off the lamp, I grabbed Miles’s clothes and went down to the kitchen. Miles had a towel and was drying his arms. His dirty shirt was crumpled on the floor, and now the only thing covered in blood and dirt was his pants. He raised a brow, probably wondering why I had been upstairs for so long, but he never questioned it.

He never questioned me as we drove Vincent’s carriage close to his house. We tipped the carriage over and set his horse free. Shortly, the horse would be torn apart by coyotes. Vincent’s death would be blamed on an unfortunate accident, and no one would come after my family again.