The police. Surely they could help. Pulling up her collar against the wind, she headed toward the precinct.
Minutes later, she entered police headquarters, full of men and noise and, thankfully, warmth. The officers were huddled together, half sitting on desks, the other half in chairs, talking and laughing. She searched for the face of the man who’d taken her report. When Officer Vincent felt her eyes on him, he looked up and straightened.
“Excuse me, officers.”
The others looked up. Seeing her, they quieted and headed toward separate desks as if their boss had caught them shirking duty.
“What can I do for you, miss?”
She sniffed and rubbed her numb hands together as she walked toward him. “I came to see what had been done for the children.”
“What children?”
“The children I reported as being abandoned a while back. They—” Hmm, was it wise to tell him how they’d run away from Nicholas’s? That might cause the officer to focus on the wrong thing right now. “Their names are Pepper, Angel, and Robbie.”
“Oh yes.” He scratched his scruffy jaw, a lost look on his face. “I believe I wrote that in the record book.”
“You did. I watched you do so.”
“So then . . . ?” He looked puzzled.
“What do you mean ‘so then’?” She stuck her hands on her hips. He didn’t even have the good sense to look abashed. “Did you offer them new homes or ask around if anybody would be willing to house them? Did you at least check if they had food or tell them where they could get some? I . . . I think it might be a good idea if you go see how they’re doing now. That neighborhood is not decent for children.”
“You’ve been in that neighborhood?”
She had to be careful. Her reputation was still spotless, yet a careless word could tarnish it in an instant. “I don’t think anyone has to go there to know that area of town is unsafe for children. That’s why I’m concerned.”
“And why are you concerned about them in particular?”
“That’s the essence of true religion, is it not? To care for widows and orphans.”
He shrugged and about-faced. “Not those kind of orphans,” he muttered.
She stalked behind him, trying to resist walloping him from the back.
He marched over to the record book and flipped pages.
He ran his hand down columns of notes, then tapped an entry. “You reported that they were at Queenie’s.”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to them.”
She waited for him to go on, but he shut the book. “You mean to tell me all you did was write it down?”
“If they weren’t causing mischief, there was no reason to investigate.”
“I didn’t ask you to investigate. I asked you to make sure they were all right. Do you not care whether or not—”
“It’s not our job to care, ma’am.” He jutted out his chin. “It’s our job to keep order. If they weren’t out of order, they aren’t our business.”
“Would you have said that if I had younger siblings missing?”
He shrugged. “Look, lady, we have limited resources and time.”
She glanced around at the remaining officers, one working at a desk, one twirling a pair of handcuffs, and the rest chitchatting quietly over their coffee mugs. “You certainly look really busy today, officer.”
He plopped down in his chair and crossed his arms. “If we have time, we’ll get to it.”
“The time to get to it is over.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Her stomach turned with his indifference. He should’ve told her the truth the first day she came in, that they didn’t bother protecting prostitutes’ children. “I won’t bother you again.”
“If you need us, miss, don’t let this keep you from looking to us for help.”
She clenched her fists and spun on her heels. She had to leave before she yelled at every man in the room. Hadn’t Nicholas told her he didn’t trust anyone in this town to help? And she’d not believed him.
She hadn’t bothered the church with the children’s predicament because they’d likely have been more worried about her visiting that part of town than the children having to live there, but the police were paid to work with those people.
Wrapping her arms about herself, she rushed back through the cold streets she’d just traversed, her eyes on the large red roof of Nicholas’s mansion on the top of the town’s southeast hill.
Her heart pumped warm and frantic despite the claws of winter invading her coat. Did Nicholas have any idea where the children were?
29
Lydia hurried back from the police precinct toward Nicholas’s carriage house, which was hidden in his tree-filled side yard. Someone had to know something about the missing children. Hopefully Mr. Parker had returned Mr. Lowe from wherever they’d been today.
The late afternoon light, already dismal and gray, forced her eyes to adjust to the shadowed interior when she stepped inside the carriage house.
A sudden jingling sounded loud in the far corner. “Miss King?” Mr. Parker’s shadow moved to meet her. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I mean, yes. Well, I came to see Mr. Lowe, and—”
“Sorry, miss, but he’s not here.”
“So you didn’t take him out?” Hadn’t that been what the maid said?
“I dropped him off earlier this afternoon.”
“Then are you getting ready to pick him up?” Would it be wrong to ask him to take her home after he retrieved Nicholas? Then she could ask him about the children. Waiting until tomorrow would only send her imagination into a gallop.
Mr. Parker walked toward her, looping a harness in his hands. “No, I was headed home.”
She blew out a breath. “Well then, do you know where the children are?”
His mustache drooped. “I’m sorry, miss, but they left sometime last night.”
“Yes, the maid said they ran away. But where would they go?”
He winced. “I don’t know anything for certain.”
“You think they’d go somewhere like Madam Careless’s?” But why would they do that?
He shrugged. “People tend to want to be where they’re most comfortable.”
“Comfortable!”
“I mean, where they feel they belong.”
She looked down at the paper-wrapped hats and mittens in her bag.
Of course Nicholas cared and likely had done what he could, but with how busy he was, and considering Pepper’s mistrust of men, and if that maid’s coldness was any indication of how she’d handled the children . . .
She should have visited the children more often. Maybe they wouldn’t have run away if they felt someone else truly cared, that someone besides Nicholas thought they belonged here.
“May I delay your plans?” Lydia glanced at the tack he was preparing to put away, knowing she was probably asking him to undo his work. “I know it’s terrible to ask when you’re ready to leave, but would you take me to Thick Lips Annie’s?”
The man stopped coiling the leather in his hands. “Now?”
She nodded. Hopefully she’d find the children at their old place. “The police never checked on them. Not once, and with how cold it’s been and considering what Pepper had been planning to do . . .”
Mr. Parker ran a hand through hair that shone yellow-silver in the lamplight. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Do you think they might have returned to Queenie’s?”
“I delivered her firewood this afternoon. Didn’t see them.”
“We should at least go ask about them.” If he didn’t open the carriage door for her, maybe she’d just plop herself inside and hope he’d get moving.
“Don’t you think you ought to wait until tomorrow?”
She opened the door and climbed onto the crooked step. �
��That’s just it. We shouldn’t wait.”
“In the morning, Mr. Lowe could—”
“I won’t wait for someone else to do what we can do now.” But she wouldn’t be foolish enough to go alone.
He rubbed his brow. “One day won’t hurt.”
“People die in the space of a day—an hour, even.” Madam Careless could ruin them in minutes. Lydia’s hands grew slick on the handle.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I think it’s unwise.”
“That’s why I need you. It would be imprudent to go alone.” She looked him in the eyes, hoping he’d believe her next statement. “But I will, if necessary.”
He stared at her, but she kept her chin firm.
“Mr. Lowe will fire me if I let you go alone.” He let out a frustrated rush of air. “And he’ll likely fire me for taking you.” He pointed to the inside of the carriage and sighed. “Get in and wrap yourself in a blanket.”
When he turned away, she bounced with triumph, then shut herself inside before he could change his mind.
Once Mr. Parker had the horse rehitched and out the door, she settled back against the cushion. Her brain nudged her to take Mr. Parker’s advice, to go home and return tomorrow, but how could she get comfortable in her own bed with children in danger?
Since Mr. Parker was with her, she was surely safe.
When the carriage stopped blocks later, she didn’t wait for Mr. Parker to open her door. The sun was too close to the horizon, and she wanted to be home before darkness descended.
She’d already knocked on the door of Annie’s alleyway apartment by the time Mr. Parker made it to her side. But there was no answer. She jiggled the doorknob. Locked.
Mr. Parker just shook his head as if she were a crazy woman trying to coax a corpse to sit up in a coffin.
She passed him to look through the apartment’s one dirty window. Cupping her hands against the pane, she peered into absolute blackness. “They wouldn’t be asleep already.” She wiped at the grime on her gloves. Oh why couldn’t they have come back here? “Whose care did they say their mother left them under? A Dirty Emily?”
“Emma.”
She rolled her tongue around her cotton mouth and pressed her trembling hands to her stomach. Was she really going to visit a working prostitute? “Do you know where she lives?”
He shook his head. “I agreed to drive you here, nowhere else.”
“But I won’t sleep if I don’t know they’re safe.” She laid a hand against the thumping in her chest. “I can’t go home without trying everything.”
“I’m not taking you to Dirty Emma’s.”
“But you do know where I can find her.”
He pressed his lips tight.
“Well, if you won’t take me, I’ll find her myself.” A man passed near the entrance to the alleyway, and she hailed him. “Sir!”
Mr. Parker grabbed her and yanked her back.
When the man stopped, Mr. Parker waved his hand in dismissal. “Never mind. The lady’s with me.” He turned her around, his hands rough, his face livid. “This isn’t downtown Teaville. Do you know what he likely thought you to be doing?”
Her face heated. She’d only meant to get directions. “He’d have surely seen I’m not . . .” She closed her eyes, her head a bit dizzy. All this squawking to Nicholas about keeping her reputation pristine, and she’d about lost it in a second of thoughtlessness. Could’ve lost even more than that if Mr. Parker hadn’t stopped her.
He muttered a soft curse. “I shouldn’t have brought you.”
“You don’t understand. I really feel like something is wrong—”
“There surely is something wrong. Just being in this alley proves we’re off course. Let Mr. Lowe take care of it.”
Of course, Nicholas, the savior of the world. Then why weren’t the children already back at the mansion? “No, either tell me where to find Emma or I’ll look myself.”
“No you won’t. I’ll hoist you over my shoulder and throw you into the carriage if I have to.”
“Then it would be best if you help me now. Because if you take me home, I’ll come right back.”
“You will not.”
She held his gaze, trying to conceal her threat’s emptiness. She couldn’t return alone . . . but what if her hunch was right? What if those children needed her now? They’d already spent one night on their own, and heaven only knew where. Could she bluff Mr. Parker into believing she was that impetuous? She swallowed against tears but then decided to let them fall. They were tears of frustration, but he’d never realize that.
He sighed. “She’s down the street in a little white shanty, but this is not the time to go visiting.”
Lydia bit her lip and tried not to imagine why.
“If you stay in the carriage, I’ll knock on her door. If she answers, I’ll ask her what she knows of the children.” He narrowed his eyes. “And then will you go home?”
She rubbed her clammy hands against each other. “Depends on her answer.”
Mr. Parker hesitated before helping her inside. After shutting the door, he climbed onto the driver’s platform, and she caught a whispered curse amid his grumbling before the sound of wheels against brick drowned him out. Stopping a few minutes later, the carriage rocked back and forth as he climbed down from his perch. “Stay inside,” he whispered through the window as he passed.
She strained to hear his voice among the sounds of fighting pianos, laughter, and the general hubbub down the street. She heard a knock and prayed he wouldn’t simply rush back and say he tried. A minute later, the whine of rusty hinges grated on her ears.
“Are you Dir—? Are you Emma?” Mr. Parker’s voice held a bit of uncertainty.
“I am. You got three dollars?”
“I’m not here for . . .” He cleared his throat. “I need information.”
“And I sell my time, no matter what you want it for.”
Another grunted curse from Mr. Parker. “Here. I’m looking for Thick Lips Annie’s children. Two girls and a boy. They were supposed to have lived with you once.”
“Yeah, they came back, but they’re gone again.”
“Where?”
“I sent them to Madam Careless.”
Lydia gasped and forced herself to keep her seat. How could that woman! Entrusted with children but sending them off to the devil.
Mr. Parker’s footsteps dragged across the bricks. A few seconds later, he opened the door. “She says they’re at Madam Careless’s. I’m afraid that’s the end of it. I’m sorry.”
“What parlor house does she oversee?”
“The California.”
Lydia closed her eyes and envisioned the street she’d walked down for her first serenade. A weathered wooden sign with the terribly drawn state of California had hung on one of those buildings. “That’s only a block over that way, right?” She peered down the bit of sidewalk she could see.
He blocked her view of the street, his arms crossed against his chest. “We’re not going.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“You can’t just walk in the front door.”
“I suppose not.” But then, the children surely wouldn’t be out front. She laid her hand on her chest, the thumping of her heart palpable under her wool coat. Could she live with herself if she went home and lay down on her comfortable bed while those girls, those children, “entertained”? She pressed her shaky hand to her lips. Going home was not an option. “Mr. Parker?”
“No.”
“I won’t talk to anyone. I’ll just go in and look.”
He put his hand against the carriage and shook his head as he stared down at his feet. “If they’ve got little girls in there, they won’t be in the parlor. They won’t let you see them.”
“And if these were your little girls?”
By the way he gritted his teeth, she knew he was holding in another curse. “All right.” He left her to hop into the driver’s seat.
After a short drive that seemed to t
ake forever, he hopped back down and whispered through the coach’s window. “I’ll be right back.”
After she could no longer hear him, she pulled the leather curtain aside and frowned at the windowless walls of the back alley. Of course he’d not park out front, but why weren’t there any windows so she could see in? Though it wasn’t as if the children would stand at a window all day calling for help.
But she certainly did hear something. She held her breath and cupped her ear. Crying?
Peeping her head out far enough to see in front of the horse, she located a heap of pink silk and brown curls leaning against a loose iron railing on the back of a stoop. Lydia held her breath.
The woman crossed her arms over her stomach and doubled forward. “Oh, God, help,” she moaned as she let her head drop against the metal bars, her shoulders jerking with sobs.
Lydia swallowed. Pepper’s hair had been much lighter and Angel was smaller, but this woman’s frame didn’t look like an adult’s either.
The young lady looked up and stared across the shadowed alley as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. Her hands left smudges across her face from whatever she’d used to blacken her lashes. With her fresh face and dainty neck, she couldn’t be much older than Pepper. And definitely not old enough to be within a mile of this place! Not that any woman should be here.
And if she wanted God’s help . . .
Lydia’s heart raced with the thought of stepping outside of the coach, where she was comfortable, safe, and unknown.
She’d told Mr. Parker a day was too long to wait to find the children. What if this young lady disappeared inside before Mr. Parker returned?
Lydia creaked open the door and stepped down before her galloping heart could chase her back into the vehicle.
When the young lady caught sight of Lydia, her tears immediately ceased, and she stiffened.
Though it was harder to go forward than backward, Lydia walked across the cracked, uneven bricks. Slowly approaching, she crossed over trash and skirted frozen puddles. “I mean you no harm.”
The girl tilted her head and assessed her with narrowed eyes.
“Are you all right?”
The girl’s sneer made her feel all kinds of stupid.
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