“Feel free to take that chance.”

They walked a few more steps, and then Emily stopped again. “Is there another way to the bayou?”

Maggie nodded and started in a new direction, Emily and the knife right behind her. They pushed back branches and batted off swarms of mosquitoes as they got closer to the bayou. The ground was uneven and both women stumbled occasionally, but Emily still managed to keep the knife in the small of Maggie’s back even as she clutched her captive’s arm for balance.

“I don’t know how you live in this place,” Emily grumbled. “I can’t wait to get out of here. I can’t wait to get out of America.”

“So that’s the plan? Move into one of your newly inherited estates, Your Highness? Or is that not what you call duchesses? Maybe it’s ‘milady.’ That’s what Beverly Clabber would have been if she’d lived. It’s what she and Hal called each other the one night they were with us. ‘Milord’ and ‘milady.’”

Emily said nothing. She just continued to push Maggie through the woods.

“You may have stolen the rings and brochures from my house, but what you didn’t get were the copies of them that I made,” Maggie continued. “And I stared at those copies long enough to remember where I’d seen the Murray family crest before. On the paper scrap in your room. It was the crest on the knight’s shield. And I thought, could the person who murdered Beverly be next in line for the Dundess inherited peerage? And could that person be you or Shane? My guess, given your family’s background, is that it’s you.”

“Wow,” Emily said. “Way to put things together. I thought you were just some whiny, self-involved artist.”

Maggie was surprised to find herself stung by Emily’s judgment. “I’m going through a hard time, okay?”

“Like I said, whiny. Yeah, it’s me. My dad told me when I was little that we were distantly related to this titled Scottish family, but the odds of us ever inheriting were pretty remote. Then I started doing some genealogy research. The family was a bunch of nut jobs—I mean, literal nut jobs, like they ended up either in loony bins or killing themselves—and there was just one old guy left in Scotland. When my dad died, that meant I was next in line on our side. But then I found out about Beverly, a Murray on her mother’s side. She was one less removed than I was, so she’d be ahead of me, which made me really mad. You know why she changed her name from Francine to Beverly? Because Beverly was the name of the first Duchess of Dundess. What a wannabe.” Emily peered ahead. “I think I see the bayou. God, I never thought we’d get here.”

Maggie stopped short. “Oh, crap.”

“What now?” Emily said, annoyed.

Maggie pointed to what looked like a large piece of wood. “There—a gator.”

“Bull,” Emily scoffed. “That’s a log.”

“Does a log have two eyes? Let’s go—quickly.” Maggie turned abruptly, throwing Emily off balance. As Emily tried to steady herself, Maggie threw her weight into her captor. Emily let go of the leash she’d attached to Maggie, and the knife went flying out of her hand as she fell into the hole that the treasure-hunting Rykers had dug. She clawed at the edge as she pulled herself to standing. It was a surprisingly deep hole, and Emily was in it up to her neck. “My leg,” she screamed. “Oh God, it hurts. I think it’s broken. Help, please. Get me out of here before the alligator sees me.”

Maggie knelt down and got in Emily’s face. “You can just rot here until I come back with the police. Because, guess what? You were right. That is a log.”

Maggie stood up, triumphant over her enemy. But Emily still looked terrified. “I’m not talking about that one,” she said, gesturing to the log with her hand. “I’m talking about that one.” Emily pointed beyond it to what looked like another log.

Only this one moved.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Maggie stared, frozen in place, as the alligator hefted his enormous body out of the water onto dry land. Emily whimpered, and the gator turned his head toward the women. He eyed them with curiosity.

“What do we do?” Emily asked in a shaky voice.

“Pray that he’s already eaten.”

Emily whimpered again.

“Never show fear to a wild animal,” Maggie snapped at her.

The gator contemplated his next step, which gave Maggie a chance to contemplate hers. As much as she’d love to leave Emily to her fate, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. The gator was moving slowly, as if he had a full belly, but her parents had always warned her not to buy into the misconceptions about a gator’s behavior. Alligators had the ability to move fast on land, and while most avoided human contact, others could be aggressive. The jury was out on this one, but the fact that he hadn’t retreated back into the water was not a good sign. Maggie regretted not asking her parents for a refresher course on what to do should she actually run into one.

“We need to get out of here,” she told Emily.

Emily, who was waist-deep into the hole, tried to hoist herself out of it, and groaned in pain. “I can’t.”

“Great,” Maggie muttered. “I get to save the woman who wanted to kill me. I better get points for this somewhere.”

She bent down, hooked her arms under Emily’s armpits and with great effort, and pulled her out of the hole. She started to drag a sobbing Emily through the woods but stopped when the gator advanced toward them.

“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping?” Emily asked between sobs.

“Our friend there thinks that you’re my prey and I’m dragging you off to eat. Which only makes you look more delicious to him.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna die.”

“No you’re not. At least not here. Hopefully in the jail where you’ll be spending the rest of your life.”

“Forget it,” Emily cried. “I’d rather be eaten by the alligator.”

Maggie ignored her and thought for a minute. She and some friends had once gone camping in California’s Sequoia National Park. A park ranger warned the group, “If you’re confronted by a mountain lion, don’t act scared and run. Instead make yourselves appear as large as possible, then yell and scream and act like you’re the predators.” Maggie wondered if the same trick might work with an alligator. She dropped Emily, and pulled herself up to her full height, expanding her physical presence as much as she could.

“Yah!” she screamed at the gator as she waved her arms in a threatening manner. The gator stared at her, and Maggie began to panic that instead of telegraphing “Go away!” her actions were sending the message, “Come ’n get it!” But it was too late to take a different tack, so she continued to yell and stomp around like a lunatic. After what felt like the longest seconds of her life, the gator turned away and slowly slunk back into the water until he was completely submerged.

“You did it,” Emily said. “You got rid of him.”

“Yup,” Maggie said as she started off. “And now I can get rid of you. I’ll be back with the police.”

“Wait,” Emily begged. “Don’t. Let me go and I’ll give you whatever you want. I have money. Or one of the castles. I don’t need both; you can just pick one. They’re both awesome.”

“You have got to be kidding.” Maggie, furious, put her hands on her hips and bent down until she was face to face with Emily. “Can you possibly think that I’d be like, ‘Hey, she murdered two people but I get a castle, so no biggie?’ That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me in my life. How dare you think—”

Maggie’s diatribe was interrupted by the sound of shouting.

“Maggie! Maggie, where are you?”

She instantly recognized the voice. “Here, Bo! By the hole!”

Leaves crunched under the feet of someone running through the woods. Bo yanked some branches out of his way as he emerged from the trees with his gun drawn. Gaynell was right behind him. Both ran up to Maggie.

“Are you all right?” Bo asked.