by Griggs, Winnie; Pleiter, Allie; Hale, Deborah; Nelson, Jessica
The flurries in her stomach took flight and Mary pivoted forward, causing Josie to emit a squeak as she strode away from the vehicle. The bushes beside her seemed too thick to dodge across and the next house sported a forbidding wrought iron fence.
From behind, a hand clamped on her arm and spun her around, jerking her toward the car. “You’ll be coming with us, Miss Mary.”
“Let the girl go,” she gasped, her arm aching beneath the force of the man’s grip.
“Nah, we’ll be taking her, too. Langdon has plans, and I’m not fool enough to interrupt them.”
The driver opened the back door, and her captor shoved her in. Josie came next, Mary’s body breaking her momentum and cushioning her against the side of the vehicle. She hugged the girl close, pulling her onto her lap. Josie buried her face in Mary’s shoulder, and she felt the trembles rippling through her.
Fright filled her, too. She tightened her hold on Josie.
The scruffy man hopped into the front of the vehicle. “Let’s go,” he told the driver. “Looks like it’s about to rain, and I don’t fancy getting wet.”
The ride took forever, a confusing maze of twists and turns. She kept eyeing the latch on the door, but the way the driver sped through the streets disabused her of the notion to jump out. She’d never forgive herself if Josie was hurt.
But they had to get away somehow.
“Excuse me,” she shouted above the noise of the engine and whip of the wind. This type of automobile had a roof that only covered the backseat. She hoped it rained on her captors. Served them right.
The men in front ignored her. Worrying her bottom lip, she peeked out her side. Vehicles swerved around her, proving a jump out that side would be foolish. She shifted and glanced toward the passenger side. The sidewalk had disappeared when they’d left the residential neighborhood.
The air felt thicker, laden with the odors of water and fish. Would anyone at the docks help her? Knowing the rough elements as she did, possibly. Many men working in these conditions were honest and didn’t care to see a child come to harm. Then again, many drank too much and had allowed their morality to emulate the tide, coming and going as it pleased.
The driver finally swerved to a stop on a street hugged by ramshackle warehouses. The man in the passenger seat jumped out to open their door. “Slowly now,” he warned. “I’ve no patience for uppity women.”
Despite the fear curdling her stomach, she stifled a snort and the tart reply she wished to give him. Josie refused to move off her lap, so she scooted across to the passenger door. “Tell the girl to get down,” the man ordered.
“I shall hold her,” she said, daring to meet his eyes.
He shrugged, a leer on his lips. “Your choice. I’m just the deliveryman.”
As she moved over, the driver made an odd sound. She whipped him a glance. He’d removed his cap and she had to swallow her surprise. His blue eyes were familiar. The bowler-hat man from the alley? He met her look and winked so quickly she almost missed it. “All will be well, miss,” he said with his familiar brogue. “Follow directions, okay?”
She nodded and continued out of the automobile, trying to keep her balance on the broken sidewalk. Josie clung to her but she managed to hold her steady enough. Bowler-hat man pulled the automobile away, and she was left with the scruffy man.
Her first instinct prompted her to run, even with Josie in her arms. Her captor must have seen the impulse on her face because he grabbed her arm and propelled her toward a large, nondescript building. The road steeply declined toward the Willamette, whose muddy waters lapped lazily against the docks. Dockworkers rushed from boat to boat, making her dizzy.
Or maybe it was panic at this man’s manhandling. He stopped at a building only feet from the river and thrust her through a narrow doorway. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust. The sound of the port dulled in this place, replaced with a muffled stillness that swathed the shadows. No movement. If she could reach her pocket, then things would be solved quite neatly. She’d have to put Josie down, though, and make her move quickly.
“Come on,” the man growled behind her. His grip dug into her arm as he plowed ahead. If she was going to run, she must do so now. She yanked her arm back, causing the man to let out a startled oath. “What’re you playing at? Let’s get moving.”
“We are not going with you.” She yanked again, and he was so shocked by her words that her arm slid from his fingertips, albeit painfully.
“I’ll not be having any of this,” he snarled. He reached for her, but she dodged his hand and backed up.
“We must run,” she whispered into Josie’s ear. The little girl’s head moved imperceptibly in a nod before she wiggled out of Mary’s grasp.
The man reached for her again, but she whirled away, dragging Josie with her. The door behind them had shut and so she opted for scuttling near the wall. Darkness closed around them as they moved farther into the shadows of a corner.
The man’s heavy breathing filled the space, combining with the dank odors of mold and rotted wood. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t following them. And how could he? The lack of light served her well. She ran her fingers down Josie’s cheek before grabbing her hand again.
“I’m going to find you,” their captor said suddenly, his voice grating in the silence. “And when I do, it won’t be pretty.”
They crouched in the darkness, every breath seeming a siren to her, but still, no movement to be heard. After an interminable wait, a scraping to her right made her catch her breath. One hand gripping Josie’s, she used her other to slide the derringer out of her skirt pocket.
The metal fit coolly into her palm, comfortably. Just imagine he’s a target, she told herself. A wooden target, like the kind she and James practiced with. Drawing a steady breath, she willed her heartbeat to slow.
She’d just achieved a sort of eerie calm when something flew into the room, startling her. Her captor as well, for he made a noise, followed by the loud pop of his weapon. The sound echoed through the room, filling her ears. And then out of the shadows, he lunged toward them. All she saw was his shape before instinct took over and pulled the trigger.
*
Lou arrived at the docks minutes after Langdon. He’d been fortunate in that Portland traffic’s heaviness slowed the man’s automobile enough for him to hop a streetcar headed in the same direction. If Langdon saw him, he gave no indication.
Now he stalked to the port, weapon at the ready. He spotted O’Leary pulling away from the curb near an old, broken-down building. Careful to be inconspicuous, he gave O’Leary quick eye contact, only to be surprised by the undercover agent’s swift chin jerk toward the building before speeding away.
Hmm. Lou tapped the pockets of his blue jeans. He probably should have stopped in at the office and set up some sort of operation. For now he would just observe. Hopefully, he’d see enough to get a warrant later. Plan in place, he edged up against the building. Filth covered the panes of glass.
He peered in anyway, but saw nothing. Moving forward, he kept his back to the building and his eye on the docks. Only feet away, workers bustled and moved. No sign of Langdon, but the name of his vessel should be obvious soon enough.
The rough wood of the building behind him scraped at his shirt. A man pushing a wheelbarrow toward him gave him a wary look. Stifling a groan, he jammed his hat more firmly in place. People in these places had no use for authorities.
Looking like a policeman closed more mouths than if he waltzed in with his badge flashing. Maybe he should lose the hat. At the least.
He took it off his head and inched toward the door to the building. He pressed it open and poked his head in. Met nothing but stink. Perfect. He whipped his hat into the dark room and then stiffened when a muffled oomph issued from the depths.
Before he could draw his weapon, a volley of gunfire blasted out. He dropped to his stomach, revolver at the ready.
The noise ended abruptly.
He d
rew his knees up under his stomach and held still, listening. Someone groaned from inside.
“Bureau of Investigation. Hold your fire,” he shouted into the room. A crowd was gathering across the street, but he ignored them.
The sound came again, and then a scuffling sound…or was it sniffling? Crying? He rose to his feet slowly. “Come out, weapons down, by order of Lou Riley, special agent to the Bureau of Investigation.”
“Lou?”
It felt as if his gut dropped to his feet when he heard Mary’s voice. She appeared in the doorway, Josie in her arms and a small Remington derringer clutched in her fingers. She blinked as she came out of the dark.
The sound of police drawing near scattered the crowd, most of them having no desire to be seen in this vicinity.
Lou couldn’t take his eyes off Mary.
Her eyes were huge, shocked. Filmy spiderwebs clung to the mussed strands of her hair. Josie was nestled in her arms, her shoulders shaking with the force of her fear. He swallowed, his throat tight and dry. Carefully, he reached for Mary’s hand, prying the pistol from her cold fingers.
Her eyes met his. “I shot him,” she whispered.
Local police pulled up behind him. Taking his gaze from her, he flashed his badge, introduced himself and gave them the details. He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her and Josie to the side, away from the open door and closer to the end of the building.
She felt tiny and frail beneath his hands. What had happened in there? How had she come into possession of a pistol? He had a million questions, but seeing the look on her face stilled them all.
No tears. Just a blank heaviness.
He knew exactly what that felt like.
He tucked his fingers beneath Josie’s ribs, but she wouldn’t let go of Mary.
“I’m okay,” Mary said, her voice quiet and flat. “You should check that man….” Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped.
Lou pulled her to him, pressing her hair against his chest, dropping his lips to her and Josie’s heads, cradling them and warming them. This shouldn’t have happened. Just like before. Just like Sarah and Abby. He’d been too busy working.
He should have been here for them.
And where had God been?
Absent, as usual.
A hot anger started in his stomach and spread through his chest. He tightened his grip on them as a vow worked through his blood. Langdon would pay.
No matter what.
He would pay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mary had killed a man.
Feeling numb, she watched Lou pace a few feet away, engaged in discussion with a man in a wrinkled suit, maybe his superior. The crowded, busy office of the bureau wasn’t what she’d expected. The rooms bustled with business. Telephones rang and rang, adding to the flow of conversation and creating an atmosphere of bare walls and cacophony.
She and Josie waited on a hard bench while Lou tried to straighten out their situation. Beside her, Josie sipped hot chocolate a kind man had brought for them a few minutes ago. Her legs swung in a pendulum rhythm and she didn’t smile.
Mary gripped her own cup of chocolate, an immense pressure compressing her heart. This was her fault. If only she hadn’t taken Josie from that house. She should never have tried to do things her way. If only she’d prayed for wisdom this afternoon instead of going with her instincts…
Because of her foolishness, someone lay dead. Not only that, but Langdon was missing and a little girl had been through far too much. The blame for Josie’s fright rested solely on her shoulders, and that knowledge crept through her like a slow poison. She swirled her hot chocolate, watching the curves in the liquid disappear and then reappear.
If onlys never changed anything. She wished they could.
Movement at the corner of her vision drew her attention from the cup to the center of the room. Lou threw his hands in the air and stalked away from the man he spoke to. His agitation shook Mary even more. She blinked hard, her lids burning and gritty. How had this happened?
But she knew exactly how.
Thinking she should manage things on her own. Leaving no room for help, not even from her Savior.
Where could she go from here? How could she escape this disgrace? This guilt? For it tore at her, shredding her tattered confidence, leaving her protected by nothing but a rag not worth stitching back together.
“Mary.” Lou stood before her, drawn and unsmiling. “Can I talk to you alone?”
She cast a look at Josie, who blew bubbles in her hot chocolate.
“An agent friend’s wife will be here in a moment to sit with her,” he said softly.
She touched Josie’s shoulders. An unforced smile came to her lips when the little girl glanced up, her mouth rimmed in chocolate. “I’m going with Mister Lou for a moment, but I’ll be right back.”
“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Josie’s voice quivered, and Mary’s stomach clenched.
“No, sweetheart. I’ll be right over there.” She pointed outward, not really sure where Lou planned to take her.
“In that room there,” said Lou. He dropped in front of Josie and pulled a peppermint stick from his pocket. “These are good for stirring. By the time this is gone, we’ll be back. A nice lady will come and sit with you, okay?”
She nodded and reached for the stick. “It’s going to be gone fast,” she told him gravely.
A grin cracked his tired features, and a surge of emotion vaulted through Mary at his smile. “We’ll hurry then, my sweet girl. Stay here.” He patted her knee.
Mary followed him to a door that opened into a tiny room.
“Interrogations,” he explained, noticing her look. “Were you okay with yours?”
“Yes.” It had been terribly exhausting to explain how she’d ended up in the warehouse. Then the hardest part had come, describing the oomph of noise into the dim room, which she’d later found out was Lou’s hat, and then the lunge as her captor appeared right in front of her, his pistol at her nose.
She’d shot him without thinking. An immediate reaction. He hadn’t expected that she’d have a weapon. He’d dropped his gun, falling backward, clutching his belly. Gut shot. That’s what the detective told her it was called. Most often fatal.
“Hey. Come back to me.”
A feather brushed her cheek. No, Lou’s finger. He was touching her, close, his eyes so very blue and serious. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. There was nothing you could do.”
“I had to protect us.” She faltered, her voice abandoning her.
“You did good. None of this is your fault.”
“Have you found Langdon?” she asked.
“Not yet. Let’s talk privately.” He applied a soft pressure to her shoulder, moving her farther into the room. Lou tucked his hands in his pockets and studied her. “We have a situation with Langdon and Josie regarding custody. I’ve a man bringing in the family attorney right now to figure out where Josie needs to go.”
“And me?”
“You’re not being charged with anything. The shooting was clearly self-defense and we have a witness who saw him force you and Josie into the automobile.” He cocked his head. “How’d you get a pistol anyway? Let alone know how to shoot it.”
“James taught me years ago. I bought the derringer one year after a scare with wolves.”
“Where was I?”
“Working.”
An odd grimace crossed his face. Did it bother him that he hadn’t been there? Surely not…and yet a hard little knot began to grow in her stomach.
“What about the driver…the man?” She stumbled over the words, her tongue feeling thick and unwieldy. “The one who gave you the hat?”
“Don’t worry about him. I’m taking care of things.”
Exhaustion weighted every limb. “Where do I go from here?”
“Gracie and Trevor are on their way. They’re going to take you back to the ranch.” He paused. “I’ve decided not to sell i
t— Look at me, Mary.” He tipped her chin, his fingers warm against her skin, and she met his eyes. “I’m not going to sell the ranch. Our place is rich in history. I don’t want to lose that. While here in Portland, I realized it’s home to me in a way other places can never be.”
She blinked at his words, an onslaught of emotions rushing through her. Fear, happiness, everything coalesced into a giant wave of feeling that engulfed her and left her speechless. She touched his cheek. His unshaved skin scraped against her fingers as she cupped his jaw and held his gaze.
“I’m happy you’re keeping the ranch. You have been my hero in so many ways,” she began. “And yet I feel as though my hand is still being held.” He started to shake his head, but she stopped him with a bit of pressure from her fingers.
A rueful smile crept across his lips.
She smiled back, her riotous emotions blending together, harmonizing into a single feeling that spread through her in rich pulses of energy. “I am not going to be your housekeeper anymore. I am going to open a business and thrive.”
He reached for her hand, removed it and laced his fingers through hers. So gentle. He drew their entwined fingers against his chest.
“You are free to be whomever you want. To choose your way. I only want you happy.” His fervent words touched a place deep inside her, bringing to life a longing she finally felt free to embrace.
Without hesitating, she placed her free hand on his back, pushed upward on her toes and kissed him. Their lips met in a union of warmth that blazed into a blistering heat, burning away any reservations she may have held. His mouth slanted against hers, minty and firm. He pressed her against the wall, and she melted beneath his love.
For that was what she felt. Love radiating from him. Care. Her own blood lit with a passionate joy she hadn’t expected to ever experience.
And then everything ended. He pulled away, his breath ragged, his head hanging so she couldn’t see his face.
But that was okay. She smiled despite her own uneven breathing and the rapid pounding of her heart. She stroked the top of his head, relishing the strands beneath her fingers. It had taken twelve years, but her heart had finally healed enough for her to accept the truth.
