He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. The dank space smelled of dirt, mold, and sea salt. From what he could see, the walls opened out from the mouth of the cave another three feet on either side. The space was fairly good sized, and the ceiling rose overhead to about nine feet tall. He could crawl inside and stand up, but his efforts would be useless without a lantern.
“You coming up?”
“In a minute,” he called to his brother. He peered toward where he’d seen a shimmer. Was that a chest? He crawled in a little farther until he could run his fingers over a leather chest bound in brass. The metal must have been what he saw gleaming in the sunlight. The thing was padlocked, so he couldn’t open it. It was about one foot by two. Small, but when he tried to lift it, he found it heavy. Panting, he dragged it toward the opening and out into the open air.
“Everything okay?” Philip called down.
“I found something. A chest. We’re going to need a rope to get it up. There’s one back in the buckboard.”
“A chest?” Philip’s voice sharpened. “I’ll come down.”
“No! Then we’ll both be stuck here. We need that rope.”
“It will take me two hours to walk there and return!” Displeasure coated Philip’s words.
Will craned his neck to stare up into his brother’s face. “Hurry.
Perhaps I can pick the lock while I’m waiting.”
Philip glanced out to sea. “I don’t like leaving you here alone. Why don’t you come with me? The chest will be safe enough.”
“Seems foolhardy to leave something that might be a valuable clue. Whoever stashed it here might come back.”
Philip’s brow creased. “And do you have a weapon if he does?”
“No.”
“Here, catch.” Philip brandished a pistol.
Will caught it and stuffed it in his waistband. “I’ll be fine. Hurry!”
“Watch yourself. I shall be back as soon as possible.”
Philip’s face disappeared from above. It sounded as though Philip was moving fast. They’d meandered their way here, so perhaps his brother would return in less than two hours. Will glanced at the sun that was nearly overhead. His stomach growled, but there would be no lunch for him. That, too, was back at the buckboard.
He picked up a rock to try to knock off the padlock, but before he brought it down, he heard a rustling from the opposite direction of where they’d left the buckboard. The sounds of male voices drifted toward him.
He shoved the chest back into the cave then scrambled inside with it. Moments later a rope dangled in front of the opening. Someone was coming down.
SEVENTEEN
“OPERATOR,” KATIE SAID. She chatted a moment with Mrs. Silvers and found out most people were beginning to recover from smallpox and there had been no new cases, though the existing cases would be contagious until the scabs dropped off. Another couple of weeks and the town would likely be totally clear of the scourge. She connected the woman’s call to her daughter-in-law. Once she heard the other woman pick up, she saw the lamp light for another call. It was Mr. Gleason calling the bank. No chitchatting with him.
There was a lull when the switchboard remained dark, then Katie’s shift was over. She checked in with Nell to make sure the other woman was ready to go at her remote location, then removed her headset and stretched. Working away from the office had proven to be rather enjoyable. There had been no problems so far.
Lady Carrington came in, chasing the toddler, and gave Katie a weary look. Jennie reached for her.
“You want to go outside?” Katie scooped her up and smiled at Lady Carrington. “I have her. You go and rest.” Lady Carrington gave her no argument and they went out the back door, stepping past the bird.
Paco gave her a baleful look and shifted on his perch. “Step away from cake!” he screeched.
Jennie flinched and hid her face against Katie’s shoulder. “There is no cake,” Katie muttered. Though it sounded good, she wasn’t in the mood for baking. Truth be told, she was an atrocious cook. Her mother had tried to teach her, but Katie’s mind always drifted out the window to the city streets and what she was missing.
Jennie craned her neck to watch the birds soaring overhead as Katie strolled the beach. The sea breeze tugged at the tendrils of hair that had escaped her pins, and she pushed them back from her face with an impatient hand. The blue of the sea reflected the brilliant sky overhead.
The whitecaps were like frosting on the tops of the waves. She shook her head at her constant thoughts of cake. Silly bird. She stopped to stand Jennie on the beach. The baby stooped and grabbed a fistful of sand and started to cram it into her mouth until Katie stopped her. The sun struck Katie’s face and she realized she hadn’t seized her hat.
Katie let Jennie hang onto her finger as the baby toddled along the shore of the water. Her giggles mingled with the sound of the surf and soothed Katie’s jitters. All morning long she hadn’t been able to raise anyone at her house. All was well, she told herself—her father was holding his own and surely her mother was fine. But then, why wouldn’t Lois pick up?
A movement caught her eye, and she noticed a female figure approaching from the road. She wore a white lingerie dress that swayed around her slim figure. The broad brim of her hat shaded the woman’s face. The parasol she carried blocked the view even more, but something about the way she walked seemed familiar to Katie. The buggy in which she’d arrived was at the steps to the lighthouse.
Katie smiled as the woman stopped a few feet away. “May I help you?”
The woman lifted her head, but her hand still shaded her face. “I’m looking for Katie Russell.”
Katie stepped nearer. “I’m Katie. Have we met?”
The woman dropped her hand, and the sun pierced the shadows thrown by her hat. “Don’t you know me, darling?”
Every muscle tensed. The seashell Katie had found fell from her hand. Her heart rebounded against her chest wall, and she struggled to breathe. No, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let it be true. She squeezed shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she opened them again, the mirage was still before her. As solid as the ground under her feet. It was no ghost, no figment of her imagination. Was that powder on the woman’s face? And blush. She concentrated on the shocking makeup rather than on what she longed to deny.
The woman in front of her was Florence. The woman who bore her.
The moisture dried on Katie’s tongue. She continued to stare at the woman smiling back at her. The years had not been kind to Florence. Katie couldn’t think of her as her mother. Inez Russell was her mother.
“Cat got your tongue?” Florence stepped nearer. She touched a gloved finger to Katie’s cheek. “I would think you would be overjoyed to see your mama.”
Katie flinched then attempted to harness her racing thoughts. “What are you doing here?” she managed past her closed throat. She scooped up the baby for comfort.
“You don’t seem glad to see me.” Florence’s pert smile faded, and she tugged on one glove. Her blue eyes, so like Katie’s own, narrowed, and she gave the parasol on her shoulder a spin.
“I–I’m shocked,” Katie said. “I never thought I’d see you again.” She glanced back at the house. All she could do was pray Lady Carrington didn’t happen to look outside. Katie had to get rid of this woman. Quickly, before anyone saw them together. “Did you go by my parents’ house?”
Florence’s brows drew together even more. “When I reached town, I stopped to buy some headache powder but quickly left the doctor’s office when I learned of the smallpox making its rounds. When I inquired about the Russells, I was told you were out here. You are the one I came to see anyway, not my treacherous sister.”
“Did you go see Papa?”
“I was denied entrance until the smallpox is past, but the doctor said he was improving. I slipped down the hall when no one was looking and peeked into his room though. He’s gotten quite old, hasn’t he?”
Katie said
nothing. Most likely the woman had no idea she’d aged as well. It was as though a giant hand squeezed Katie’s soul. She wanted to wail and cry, but more than anything else, she wanted not to have to look into this woman’s face. “I think you’d better go. There’s nothing for you here.”
“You’re the only reason I’m here.”
“We severed all ties years ago.”
The way the woman pressed her lips together accentuated the lines around her mouth. “You mean Albert severed them. I want to weave them together again.”
Weave them together again? There weren’t even ruins left of that original foundation. “I have no interest in a relationship with you,”
Katie said. “You abandoned me to go off with your boyfriend. Is that supposed to be forgotten now?”
Florence grimaced. “I just went out for a little fun! I was coming back. You had to go running to Albert. Of all people.” Her voice was thick with disgust and she rolled her eyes.
“I was five years old! Much too young to be left alone at night. I was frightened.” Katie still remembered the terror of the night with a strange man knocking on the door in search of her mother. “That man you’d been with the night before. Harold something. He came by after you’d gone out. I–I didn’t like the way he looked at me.” She shuddered.
“He wouldn’t have hurt you,” Florence said with a hard smile.
“But I know you were young. I forgive you.”
Katie clutched the baby to her chest. She forgives me? Her stomach roiled with nausea. “Why are you here? You were always too busy dancing and going to parties to even notice me. I have a new life. If you care about me at all, you’ll leave before anyone finds out.”
“Finds out what?”
She bit her lip. “That you’re my mother,” Katie finally whispered.
Florence stared. “You mean people think the Russells are your real parents? How is that possible?”
Katie hunched her shoulders, wishing she didn’t have to broach the subject at all. “You were only in town for a week in that boardinghouse. You were going by a different name. My father had just moved here and Mama was still packing up in San Francisco. She arrived the morning after Papa took me in.”
“So everyone assumed you were their daughter,” Florence said slowly.
“I am their daughter. In every way that matters,” Katie said, her voice fierce. “If you’re here for money, Papa doesn’t have any.”
Florence laughed. “Do you truly expect me to believe that, Katie? I’m not stupid. The Russells are wealthy. My dear sister is rolling in money. There is no reason she shouldn’t share with me since I gave her my own flesh and blood.” She glanced toward the house. “Aren’t you going to offer me some tea?”
“No. I want you to leave, forever. My life is fine without you. I have a mother. I don’t need another.” Katie raised her voice. “Please, can’t you just leave me alone?”
Florence’s mouth grew pinched. She stared at Katie with a speculative gleam in her eyes. “How much will you give me to go away?”
Katie took a step back. “I have no money.”
“Then you’d better get some.” Florence twirled her parasol again and turned back toward the buggy. “Move quickly, Katie. Or I will tell everyone your mother is a vaudeville dancer and a lady of the night.”
The woman sauntered away and left Katie staring after her with her hand to her throat. This couldn’t happen—not now.
Staring at the rope dangling in front of the cave opening, Will tried to decide what to do. It was dark in here. He could move to the back and try to hide. Observing what was going on might be more profitable. And prudent. But if the man climbing down here had a lantern, he might be discovered, and the idea of being caught, hiding out, grated at him.
He heard the men talking topside. The one with a gruffer voice said, “We need to get this stowed and ready. The next ship will be here in two days. Once we get the plunder from it, we can get out of here.”
The pirates. They were planning another theft.
The rope in front of him swayed, and the tip of a boot appeared. Will didn’t have long to make up his mind. He stood and stepped to the back of the cave. As soon as he moved away from the opening, it was too dark to see. He held his hands out in front of him and groped along the rough rock walls. Shuffling across the uneven floor, he walked about fifteen feet before he came to the back of the space. He crouched and swept his hands around to try to find something to shield him from view. There was nothing. He stood and faced the light at the front of the cave. He withdrew the pistol tucked into his waistband.
A figure blocked the light in the cave’s opening. The man stooped and peered into the cave. Will knew him right away—the worker who’d been talking to the businessman on the hillside. When the fellow stepped into the cave, Will saw he had no lantern attached to his waist.
The man moved to Will’s left, toward where the chest had been stashed. Will realized he hadn’t gotten the chest back into the place where it had resided. It sat two feet further from the opening and was not shoved against the wall. The fellow crouched and moved his hands along the rock wall. Will heard a clatter and something scrape.
Then a tiny light flared, and he saw a lantern and matches in the man’s hand.
Will crouched down and pressed back against the rocks behind him. If he stood still, perhaps the man wouldn’t examine the rest of the cave. The wick caught flame, and the lantern’s warm yellow glow pushed back the shadows in the cave to two feet in front of Will. He remained just barely covered by the dark. As the light probed the other corners of the space, he saw the outline of the cave better. It widened to about eight feet and went back into the hillside fifteen feet or so.
The fellow set the lantern down and crouched in front of the chest. Will could only pray the pirate didn’t remember exactly where he’d placed it last. A click echoed against the cave walls and the man lifted the lid on the box. Will sidled to the right so he could see better. His boot scraped a loose rock. He froze when the fellow stopped and lifted his head. The man reached toward his waist, and Will caught the gleam of a gun in the lamplight. His fingers tightened on his own gun, but before the fellow withdrew his weapon, another man called down from atop the cliff.
“Chesterson, are you about done? I need to get back.” The accomplice’s voice was cultured.
“Almost,” the workman shouted. “Give me a minute.” The man tipped his head and listened with his hand still on the butt of his gun. Will didn’t move. “Lousy rats,” the man muttered. He knelt in front of the chest again and withdrew a stack of ledgers. He laid a compass and other instruments on the rocky floor. A metal lockbox came out next.
Will couldn’t let the evidence get away. He brought up his pistol. The man pulled out a burlap sack then put the lockbox into it before tightening the top and turning back to the rope dangling outside the opening. Will relaxed a bit when he realized the man intended only to take a small portion of the contents of the chest. Could he apprehend the perpetrators? If he let them leave, Will might not be able to discover their identity. But if he stopped them now, Philip might never find the ship itself. Uncertain how to proceed, Will took another step and a rock rattled.
The man whipped out his gun and turned toward him. “Don’t move!” he barked.
Will had the advantage because he could see the man and the guy couldn’t see him. “Drop it! I’ve got a gun on you,” he said. Will’s finger tightened on the trigger, but rather than dropping his gun, Chesterton fired. Something struck Will on the left side of his head, and his vision blurred. He struggled to stay conscious, to depress the trigger on his pistol, but he was dizzy. The next thing he knew, he was falling. His hand struck a rock and the gun clattered across the rock floor. Then a cold metal barrel dug into his forehead.
“If you move, I’ll kill you,” the man said. He dragged Will roughly to his feet.
Will’s head throbbed, and a wave of nausea struck him. The man half-dragged him
toward the front of the cave. Philip’s pistol was somewhere behind them and of no help to him. He had no strength to fight the man’s rough handling. In the shaft of sunlight streaming into the mouth of the cave, Will saw the hard glint in the fellow’s eyes, the cruel twist of his mouth. This was no gardener but a thug dressed as one.
“We’ve got a problem,” the man shouted up to his partner. “There’s a snoop in here.”
“What?” The accomplice’s voice was faint, as though he’d moved away from the edge. When he spoke again, he was louder. “Did you shoot him?”
“Yeah, I nicked his head. What should I do with him?”
There was silence for a long moment. Will felt his strength beginning to return. If he could ward off action for a few more minutes, he might be able to get out of this.
“Kill him,” the man above said. “We leave no witnesses.”
“We should make it look like an accident,” Chesterton said, “so no one comes looking for us. Maybe tie him up here and let him die on his own, then come back and take off the ropes?”
“He’ll stink up the cave. Besides, that’s too risky. He might get away,” the voice said from above.
There was another pause. Then the man’s hand tightened. He hauled Will out of the cave opening. Will’s muscles tightened in preparation for a fight. He wasn’t going down without a struggle. Before the other man from above spoke, the thug’s grip on Will’s arm turned painful. Will had no time to realize what was happening. He went sailing off the ledge where they stood. He plummeted toward the waves crashing on the rocks fifty feet below. His arms pinwheeled out, and he bit back a shout.
Time seemed to slow as he fell over the cliff face. If he struck the rocks, he was a dead man. He barely had time to pray before the water rose to meet him. A wave took him under and battered him against the rocks. Something struck his forehead. Saltwater filled his mouth. His lungs burned with the need to breathe. He couldn’t see, couldn’t tell where he was or how to escape the roiling ocean.
Pain shot up his arm when a wave rolled him into another rock. The waves tossed him until he lost all sense of time. He made it to the surface, took a lungful of air, but then was hit by another five-foot wave, which drove him down again. He was barely able to stay conscious.
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