Hallie returned his gaze coolly. “Surely you’re not suggesting that this woman would be denied medical care simply because she happens to be Chinese?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you. There’s not a white hospital or doctor in this town who would tend a Chinee.”
“Then you’re wrong.” Their eyes remained in silent combat for several tense moments before she broke the spell with a superior-sounding snort, “I happen to be a doctor at the Mission Infirmary, and I would suggest you release me this instant so I can see to this girl’s care.”
“Right. A female doctor.” He snickered as skeptically as if she had just announced that she was running for the presidency of the United States. “Well, Doctor, what I suggest is that you stop your whining and tend to your patient.” With that, he slipped out the door and gave it a decisive slam shut.
“Please.” Hallie rose to her still wobbly legs and staggered the short distance to the door. As she wrapped her hands around the bars for support, the officer looked up from his grappling with the jammed door lock and frowned. Forcing herself to look contrite, Hallie pleaded, “Please, Officer—?”
“Brady,” he supplied, banging on the problematic lock.
“—Brady,” she echoed with an ingratiating smile. “I really do need to get this woman back to the infirmary. As you can see, I don’t have the proper equipment here to help her. If you could just open this door and let me—
“You’re not going anywhere—” he interjected, grunting with satisfaction as the lock clicked into place, “—either of you. At least not without Judge Dorner’s say-so.”
“Then, for God’s sake, get the judge.”
With a pleased smile, Officer Brady removed the key and tested the door by giving it a pull. It held securely. As he reattached the key to the heavy ring hanging from his belt, he replied, “You can see the judge day after tomorrow. He left distinct orders that he was not to be disturbed today. Seems he’s having a big Christmas Eve party tonight. And, tomorrow being Christmas Day, well, wouldn’t want to disturb the judge on account of a couple of antsy whores.”
“But the girl—”
“Judge doesn’t give a damn about a Chinee whore—or a white one, for that matter.”
“But—”
“No buts about it. You’ll see the judge day after tomorrow.” Jerking his head decisively, Brady spun on his heel and headed down the corridor.
“Wait!” Hallie shrieked, loudly enough to make him turn and scowl in her direction. “Can you at least ask her what’s wrong?”
He spat on the floor. “Do I look Chinee to you?”
“But I heard you speak Chinese, and the girl seemed to understand what you said.”
“Oh. Well, I know a few words here and there. Enough to get my point across.”
He winked at Hallie in an infuriating manner that made her long to shout a few select words of her own.
“And just what point did you get across?” Hallie ground out, hating herself for asking, yet curious about what had struck such terror into the girl’s face.
“Why, I simply told her that if she didn’t stop yapping, I’d turn her over to you. Nothing scares a Chinee whore more’n the thought of being sent to the mission.”
“Why?” But Hallie’s question hung in the air unanswered, for the policeman was halfway down the hall, whistling a rousing rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as he went.
In the hours that followed, Hallie had no time to reflect upon the man’s strange words. The afternoon had crept by unnoticed, and the fuchsia glow of the setting sun now failed to draw even a quick sigh of appreciation from either woman. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the jail, someone sang snatches of a Christmas carol, but even that didn’t get any more than a passing grimace from Hallie.
Bending over the still Chinese girl, Hallie groped for the pulse at her neck. Nothing. With a surge of panic, she moved her fingers lower, holding her breath apprehensively. Relief flooded over her like an incoming tide as she discerned a weak, irregular beat, and she let out her breath in a ragged gust.
The young woman had lost a great deal of blood over the course of the endless afternoon, hemorrhaging in a torrent that had quickly saturated her loose-fitting trousers. Hallie looked down at the blanket now stained an ugly, rusty red and, with a hopeless sob, resumed massaging the girl’s belly.
In those early hours following the exchange with Officer Brady, the girl had refused Hallie’s assistance. So taken aback had Hallie been by the hostile suspicion reflected in those beautiful eyes that she had simply watched helplessly as the girl rocked back and forth on her cot, crooning something to herself in a singsong voice.
But sometime in the blur of the afternoon she had at last turned to Hallie, her eyes brimming with mute appeal. As she moved to the girl’s side, Hallie gave silent thanks for the experience gained during her stint as Sanitary Visitor to the Philadelphia tenements. As frustrating and painful as it had been at times, it taught her to reach beyond the barrier of language and to give comfort simply as one human being to another. After all, weren’t pain and illness a universal plight?
Cautiously, Hallie turned her palm up and offered her open hand to the girl in a gesture of wordless friendship. It was at that moment that a pain chose to lock the girl in its cruel grasp, and she seized Hallie’s outstretched hand with desperate brutality.
Thus the first seeds of trust were planted. Hand motions and sounds replaced words, for Hallie knew no Chinese, and the few words of English uttered by the girl gave little doubt as to her station in life. Through patience, Hallie was able to learn that the girl’s name was Tuberose, but little else.
As the twilight faded, so did the fragile communication between the women. Tuberose’s breathing was now little more than a shallow whisper; her heartbeat a faint sigh. And the truth was almost more than Hallie could bear: Tuberose was dying and there was nothing she could do.
“Damn it!” Hallie swore, rubbing at the tears of frustration that stung her eyes. “Where has that worthless warden gone?” After Brady had delivered a dismal repast of thin soup and water, of which neither woman had partaken, no one had bothered to check on them.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!” Hallie sobbed, driving her fist against the brick wall with knuckle-splitting force. As pain flamed through her abused hand, she was filled with a desperation that made something deep inside of her snap. Snatching up the tin soup bowl, Hattie emptied the unpalatable contents into the relief bucket and then stalked over to the door.
Taking a long, ragged breath, she struck the bowl across the bars with all her strength. Over and over again she banged, shattering the calm with the chaotic din of metal against metal. She could feel the impact of the blows radiate up her arm, and her shoulder joint soon ached from the impact.
“Get your sorry, godforsaken hide in here now!” She screamed above the deafening clatter. She was startled into dropping the bowl when a clear voice, projecting calmly above the noise, answered her.
“I certainly hope he hasn’t forsaken it. I have a feeling my hide’s going to need his protection if—HELL AND DAMNATION!” Davinia ejected as she came face to face with the prisoner.
“Davinia, thank God!” Hallie exclaimed, reaching through the bars to clutch at her friend’s arm.
Frowning with concern, Davinia gently touched Hallie’s bruised cheek. “What happened?”
“The whore kicked Nicholas Connelly in his man parts and then tried to rob him. They say he’s ruined for life,” replied Officer Brady, who had been following Davinia, with Marius DeYoung close at his heels.
“Good for her!” cheered Davinia, moving her hand from Hallie’s cheek to give her friend a congratulatory pat on the back. “I’m sure the lecher deserved a good swift kick. Would have done it myself, had the opportunity presented itself. But a whore and a thief? Really, Brady! Even you know better than to bel
ieve that durn Connelly creature.” She stared at the policeman in her most quelling manner for a moment before snapping, “Well? Are you going to stand there gaping like a day-old market fish, or are you going to unlock this door? You’ve obviously made a mistake.”
Brady glanced nervously from Davinia Loomis’s imperious scowl to the lady doctor’s angrily flushed cheeks. “Can’t. Not until she sees the judge.”
“Day after tomorrow,” supplied Hallie miserably.
“Why, that’s absurd!” interjected Marius, joining Hallie and Davinia in their glaring match with the policeman. “Surely allowances can be made? I can personally vouch for this woman’s character, and let me assure you, it’s beyond reproach.”
“Rules is rules,” Brady quoted. “And I always follow them to the letter. She’s not going anywhere.”
“But the girl,” Hallie motioned desperately at the figure on the cot, “is dying. Please, at least release her. She can’t harm anyone.”
“Rules is rules.”
“Hell and damnation!” shouted Davinia again, throwing her hands up in the air in disgust. “Marius?” She pulled the preacher aside, and they conferred in an inaudible whisper for several minutes. Giving a vigorous nod, Marius spun on his heels and left.
With that bit of business completed to her apparent satisfaction, Davinia rounded on the policeman. “Well, Brady, if you won’t release the doctor, you can at least let me into the cell to see if I can lend her some assistance with her patient. I speak Chinese, you know.”
Brady shook his head. “This woman is violent. After what she did to Nick—” His words faded away, and he paled at the thought.
“Well, since I don’t possess the anatomy in question, I should be safe enough.” She smiled cunningly. “Of course, if you’re afraid to open the door—”
The man straightened to his full, lanky height, his face the picture of wounded dignity. “Officer Brady, afraid? Of a mere female? Ha!” he exclaimed. “Just trying to protect you, ma’am. However, if you insist on consorting with the prisoners, well, then, all right. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Hush now, dear,” Davinia crooned, tightening her embrace around Hallie and patting her friend’s heaving back. “You did what you could.”
“Hallie gave a choked sob and shook her head against Davinia’s shoulder. “B-b-but it’s all so c-cruel! I-I can’t imagine anyone f-forcibly performing an a-abortion on a young girl and e-expecting her to service men that s-same day!”
At least two hours had passed since Davinia had entered the cell. Rousing Tuberose from her deathly stupor, Davinia had been able to extract bits and pieces of the girl’s horrifying story.
It seemed that the young prostitute had found herself pregnant, and when the Chinese woman who ran the squalid crib establishment where she was enslaved had found out, she’d had the girl held down while she performed an abortion with a buttonhook. Nick Connelly had shown up several hours later, bellowing for his favorite whore, Tuberose. When the girl had objected, the madame had beaten her into submission and then turned her over for further abuse at Nick’s hands. He had already forced himself on her several times before Hallie had come upon her.
Staring down at the outline of the girl’s corpse shrouded in the bloodstained blanket, Hallie sniffled. “She was so afraid of me. I only wanted to help her, but s-she wouldn’t—”
“I know,” Davinia whispered, stroking Hallie’s hair.
“B-but w-why?”
“It’s a terrible situation. The brothel keepers tell their prostitutes lurid tales about mission ladies. One of the more effective stories is that we like to boil little Chinese girls and eat them for dinner. Rumor has it that we like them crispy. Of course, we scratch out their eyes and pull out their nails before we toss them into the stew pot.”
Hallie pulled away from Davinia to stare at her in disbelief. “Those women can’t possibly believe such nonsense.”
“But they do. Why, it seems that we also like to end our cannibalistic feast with a demure glass of brandy mixed with the blood of Chinese prostitutes.” Davinia removed her spectacles and rubbed them on the hem of her gown. She frowned as she peered at a particularly stubborn smudge. “Of course, once I get my hands on the poor dears, they come around quickly enough.”
“But what of those who don’t? There are so many of them.”
With a sigh, Davinia balanced her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Many die. The others spend their days in wretched squalor. We do what we can, but—”
“—but it’s never enough,” finished Hallie, dry-eyed now. It was true what Davinia said. For every prostitute they managed to rescue, there would be a hundred who would suffer some sort of tragic fate.
“How I hate this city!” Hallie exclaimed, nodding her head fiercely for emphasis. “It’s savage and brutal, and I’ve had nothing but misfortune since I arrived!”
“You have had a rather bad start. But no doubt things will straighten themselves out soon enough if you’re patient.”
“No. My patience is at an end.” Hallie took her friend’s hands in hers and stared imploringly into her eyes. “Please forgive me, Davinia. But as soon as I see the judge, I’m taking the first ship back to Philadelphia. There’s nothing left for me here, except unhappiness.”
“That, Dr. Gardiner, remains to be seen.” Both women spun around. Hallie blanched with shock as she met the glittering green gaze of Jake Parrish.
Chapter 15
“Jake Parrish! And long overdue, I might add,” scolded Davinia as she sprang to her feet and stalked over to the barred door, where he stood scowling at them.
Jake forced his gaze away from where Hallie sat concealed in the shadows and met Davinia’s irate glare coolly.
“Charmed to see you, too, Davinia,” he drawled, tipping his top hat in a mock salute. “But long overdue? I received your message exactly—” he pulled out his musical pocket watch and snapped it open with a flourish, “—forty-two minutes ago. Therefore, I feel safe in considering myself prompt in answering your rather unusual summons.”
Hallie jerked her head up in sudden recognition as the lilting melody from the timepiece drifted across the small space of the cell. “Invitation to the Dance,” she thought, feeling almost sad when Jake closed the watch cover and the charming waltz ceased. She shook her head with a sigh. Since the first day she had met Jake and he had opened that watch, she’d struggled to place the tune. Strange that after all these months of trying, she should remember now.
“You know exactly what I mean by ‘prompt’,” Davinia lectured, shaking her finger at Jake as if he were a naughty toddler from her Sunday morning Bible class. “Why, the poor dear has been in this stink-hole for hours now, and the way I see it, this whole unfortunate incident is all your fault. I was shocked to hear of your ungentlemanly behavior.”
Jake shot a questioning glance in Hallie’s direction, wondering just how much she had told Davinia about their amorous encounter. But the infuriating woman was pointedly ignoring him, studying the writing on the walls
as intently as if it contained the answers to the meaning of life. With a snort of frustration, he looked away.
He’d been a fool to think that she would want his help. Here he had come charging to the jail like a lovesick knight bent on rescuing his lady fair, and the lady didn’t seem any too eager to be rescued. At least not by him.
That thought made his mood growl foul in the extreme. Skewering Davinia with his glare, he snapped, “How the hell do you figure this is my fault?”
“Lavinia paid me a visit this afternoon. She had quite a bit to say about the morals of our new doctor. Seems she dropped by your house for a neighborly visit this morning and walked in on you and Hallie at a rather—shall we say—inopportune moment.”
Jake made an impatient sound. “So?”
“So—if it hadn’t been for w
hat I’m sure was her unwilling ravishment at your hands, Hallie would never have been wandering the streets in such a disreputable state.”
“Unwilling ravishment?” Jake murmured, signaling Officer Brady with a brusque hand motion. “Interesting point of view.”
Hallie cringed inwardly at his subtle reference to her wanton behavior. He was right, of course. She hadn’t been at all unwilling. She retreated deeper into the shadows. Lord! Hadn’t she been humiliated enough for one day? The last thing she wanted was to have Jake here, seeing her at her lowest point. She would never be able to look him in the eye again. Not if she lived to be a hundred years old.
Nodding curtly to the officer, Jake commanded, “You can unlock this door now.”
“Well, sir—” The policeman’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he shot the mighty Mr. Parrish an anxious look.
“Open it.”
“But—”
“Am I not making myself clear, Officer Brady?” Jake arched his brow in question and stared down at the man in a manner that never failed to intimidate even the most stalwart of individuals.
Unnerved by the cold intensity of that green gaze, Brady found his Adam’s apple giving a lurch that almost choked him. Rumor had it that it wasn’t prudent to cross Jake Parrish.
The officer glanced at the two women in the cell and then back at the powerfully built man in front of him. With a shrug, he fumbled for his keys. Mr. Parrish looked perfectly capable of handling the redheaded she-devil. Besides, the man had always been more than generous when it came to contributing to the various policemen’s funds, a fact which went a long way toward making up Brady’s mind.
Hallie watched the exchange silently, her face veiled by the heavy curtain of her hair. Isn’t it just like that nasty toad, Brady, to grovel all over His Royal Highness? And isn’t the air in the cell getting a bit close? she thought, feeling suddenly breathless as Jake moved into the room, resplendently dressed in formal evening wear, complete with a long black cape. His commanding presence seemed to make the already small space shrink to claustrophobic proportions.
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