Curse of Black Tor by Jane Toombs

gone when I came back.”
    Involuntarily Martha stared at the cliff.
    “Jo's not down there,” Sarah said with an unbelievable calmness. “I looked. She must have gone for a walk.”
    Martha tried to organize her thoughts. First of all, she'd been drugged. It wasn't hard to connect that with the bitter coffee. Thank God she hadn't had much of it. Barbiturates? If so, the coffee must have been really supersaturated for her to be so affected from the small amount she'd drunk.
    She remembered telling Josephine the day before that she'd rather have coffee than hot chocolate. Had Josephine drugged the coffee to get her out of the way for a while? Out of the way permanently? Why? Operating on her own logic?
    “We've got to find Josephine,” Martha said to Sarah. “Where do you think she went?”
    Sarah shook her head and shrugged.
    Martha got slowly to her feet, clutching at the girl's shoulder for support.
    “Don't you feel good?” Sarah asked.
    “I'll be all right.” But she swayed, unable to walk. As her legs gave way under her, she saw a man come out of the woods. Jules. She was helpless, falling forward, the blackness closing in....
    Martha roused to voices: “Couldn't wake her up. I knew something was wrong so I...”
    She opened her eyes and saw Josephine’s concerned face above hers. Jules was kneeling beside her. “How do you feel?” he asked.
    “Groggy. The coffee--”
    “Oh, of course,” Josephine said. “Sarah and I didn’t drink any coffee.”
    “Can you walk if we help you?” Jules asked. “I’ll try,” Martha said. “Exercise may help clear my head.” Jules assisted her to her feet. “I had to pull her blanket back from the edge of the cliff--it was right there,” Sarah said. She pointed. “I made Martha wake up so she wouldn’t fall.”
    Josephine clutched at Martha’s arm, eyes wide with what looked like genuine panic. “Did you move that close to the edge, Martha?”
    “No. But I--I don’t know what happened.”
    When they arrived back at the house and Martha got up to her room, she fell asleep almost immediately, not rousing until she became aware of an insistent tapping. The room was dark. Martha sat up in bed, the coverlet falling away from her. In confusion, she realized she was dressed, even though it seemed to be night.
    Someone was rapping at her door. She flicked on the bedside light and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. Her mouth tasted stale and her head throbbed. She made her way to the door and opened it.
    Jules stood in the hall with a tray, “I watched Elsa fix this food,” he said. “I can vouch for it.” She wanted to trust him, but right now it was hard to trust anyone. Could Jules be trusted? She stood aside and Jules entered her room. She tried to smooth her hair and was conscious of her rumpled clothes.
    “I'm sorry to have to wake you, but we must talk,” Jules said.
    Martha excused herself and went to the bathroom, where she washed her face, donned a clean shirt and brushed her hair quickly.
    When she reentered the bedroom, Jules had taken the cover from the tray, which he'd set on a small table. He pulled a second chair near the table. “I’ll have tea with you, if you'll be so kind as to pour,” he said.
    She was glad it wasn't coffee.
    “Elsa knows nothing about what was in the coffee,” he said. “I tasted what was left in the thermos. Bitter as hell. I asked her what she'd done with the picnic basket when she had it filled. Apparently it sat on a table in the foyer until the three of you were ready.” Jules watched her for a moment. “Eat your soup,” he said. “If you want me to have some just in case—”
    “No, I'm—sure the soup isn't drugged,” Martha said, picking up a spoon. The soup was a delicious fish chowder and she ate it all.
    “I imagine you won't be staying on,” Jules said as she spooned up the last mouthful.
    Martha glanced at him. She'd been too foggy to feel very frightened over what had happened to her. “Do