Heart of Lies

by Jill Marie Landis

  Maddie faltered, stepped in a puddle, and kept going. When she looked back, the girl was smiling as she ran. Penelope was intelligent and quick-witted. She’d make a good partner, but there was no telling when or if she would suddenly grow tired of the excitement. No way to ensure her silence — save one.

  There were no footfalls behind them, no shouts for them to halt. Maddie cut a zigzag pattern, running down one street after another, turning to double back before she ran on. Alleyways that were barely noticeable opened up for her. She took a deep breath, drank in the scents of the city that had thrived under French, Spanish, American, and Confederate flags. Through it all New Orleans had survived.

  So will I, she decided. So will I.

  After twenty minutes of running Penelope stopped, refusing to go on.

  “I’m tired, Madeline.” She was holding her side.

  “We’re almost there,” Maddie promised.

  “Can’t we please walk? He won’t find us now.”

  Maddie started again, this time at a slow trot. They entered a rundown warehouse area. Garbage littered the streets and corners.

  She had found the old warehouse without hesitation. The door was so heavy on its thick iron wheels it barely rolled. The wheels protested, sorely in need of oil. Maddie managed to shove it open just far enough for her and Penelope to slip inside.

  Startled pigeons flapped their wings and took flight, escaping through holes in the roof.

  “What is this place?” Penelope walked a few feet ahead and stopped, waiting for Maddie to join her.

  “An old warehouse,” she said. Home, she thought to herself. The place where I grew up, where I lived with my family. My tribe.

  Like one of the pigeons overhead, Maddie was poised to take flight. After a two-year absence, she saw it for what it truly was: bleak and dilapidated.

  “This isn’t a house.” Penelope looked around with disdain. “It’s like a big old dirty barn.”

  Maddie walked in and tossed her things on a broken-down cot. There was no clean bedding around. What there was provided fine nests for mice. The old woodstove, once vented to the outside, was still there but shoved away from the wall. No need to worry about cooking. She could beg or steal what they needed to survive.

  Not the kind of life she wanted anymore, but right now her only other choice was jail.

  They wouldn’t be here long, she decided. Soon they would escape to the swamp and hide until she could return Penelope and claim the reward without being apprehended.

  Penelope clutched her bundle and looked around wide-eyed and as disheartened as Maddie felt. The girl stared at a bare cot before she gingerly set her things down on it.

  “May I walk around?”

  “Of course.” Maddie was wandering herself. She walked over to a pile of wooden chairs.

  Here is where we sat when Dexter lectured.

  His favorite chair was there, near the empty bookcases in the corner. The stuffing was coming out of threadbare patches in the ripped saffron upholstery.

  She lingered in the area Louie had once sectioned off as their “home.” It became the quarters she shared with her son. Her children were conceived behind long draperies that divided their small space from the rest of the room and other “rooms” like theirs. The draperies had long since rotted.

  The armoires were still lined up against the far wall. There were four of them, huge, dark, and overbearing pieces carved long ago by a woodworker who intended them to house goods and clothing—not to imprison small children who would emerge reborn.

  Children gathered together by Dexter Grande.

  She walked over to Penelope in the center of the vast, forlorn space. The child stared up at the holes open to the lowering gray sky. The warehouse had lost whatever charm it once held. Its dilapidation tarnished her memories. Time had moved on. She had moved on.

  There was nothing for her here anymore. Nothing but dusty, empty space, and the sound of pigeons cooing in the rafters.

  “What are we going to do now?” Penelope waited with arms akimbo, tapping her toe.

  Maddie rubbed her brow. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? I’m getting hungry and it’s getting cold in here.”

  The sun had been out earlier that morning but now clouds gathered. Maddie glanced up. There was a reason the place was so dank. Rain fell through the holes in the roof. They would have to take shelter along the edges of the room.

  In the armoires if they had to.

  “Come with me,” Maddie told her, leading her toward an ornately carved cabinet. “We’ll put your things in here and make a nice comfortable place for you to sleep.”

  Tom chided himself for a fool over and over. He’d taken his eyes off Maddie for less than a second to hire a hack, and she’d not only given him the slip but she’d taken the girl.

  He searched in every direction but it was almost as if the ground had opened up and swallowed them both. He ran to the water’s edge, looked over the side of the dock into the water. He wouldn’t put it past her to hide in the river.

  The wharf was crowded with barrels and boxes, trunks and crates, bales and huge stacks of dry goods, not to mention wagons and other conveyances. Maddie and the girl could be anywhere.

  Somehow she had convinced the child to leave with her. Surely she realized that the Perkins’s home would be watched once he alerted the police. Returning Penelope would lead to her own incarceration if she wasn’t able to ensure the child’s silence.

  He knew he’d never find them alone, and the longer he waited, the more impossible it would be to track her down. While scanning the streets on foot, he headed straight for the French Quarter precinct. Thankfully, Frank Morgan was at his desk. When he looked up and saw Tom standing there unshaven and disheveled, he dispensed with a greeting.

  “You didn’t find her,” Morgan said.

  “On the contrary, until twenty minutes ago, I had Penelope Perkins with me.” Tom tossed his hat on a chair.

  “What happened?”

  “To make a long story short, Penelope had escaped before I got back to the Grande cabin and decided to head for Kentucky on her own.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Tom nodded. “I doubled back to Langetree to have the Perkinses identify this.” He pulled out the silver comb and showed it to Morgan, then repocketed it. “They did. I went back to the bayou. Miss Grande was gone, already on Penelope’s trail by then. I caught up with them both in Baton Rouge and brought them back by steamboat this morning but my luck ran out. I lost them both at the docks.”

  Frustration and anger had him pacing the small office. He shoved his hand through his hair.

  “Sit down, Tom,” Frank advised. “Would you like any refreshment?”

  He shook his head, chose to stand. “What I’d like is some help before they slip out of the city. Your men can cover New Orleans, flush them out.”

  “Does anyone else know Maddie Grande was involved in the kidnapping?”

  “Terrance, of course. Me. Penelope. A woman named Anita Russo. But Maddie will deny it. Russo will too. Without Penelope’s testimony, Terrance can deny everything.”

  “Is she capable of hurting the girl?”

  Tom knew Frank was really asking if Maddie was capable of far worse than hurting Penelope, but would she silence the child forever?

  “I don’t think so.” He hoped not. He truly hoped not. “Has Terrence confessed yet?”

  “No and I can’t hold him much longer, Tom. It’s hard enough to convict the guilty in this city. From what my men found out on the streets, finding Maddie Grande will be harder than you imagine.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Thankfully, the rain held off. Maddie stored their things in a corner and covered them with an old crate. Then she smeared dirt over Penelope’s face and fluffed the child’s hair into a mass of wild tangles. She folded the milkmaid apron into a ruffled shawl and tied it round Penelope’s neck. People saw what they wanted to see. Maddie was satisfi
ed no one would associate the unkempt urchin before her with the kidnapped daughter of a wealthy plantation owner.

  Maddie altered her own appearance in much the same way, changing into her old clothes. She rolled up the apparel she’d been given at the hotel, made the wool skirt look like a blanket wrapped around an infant, and cradled the bundle in the crook of her arm. The authorities wouldn’t be searching for a woman with an infant.

  She looked Penelope over.

  “I’m not sure you’re a good enough actress to pull this off.” She pretended to consider Penelope’s ability.

  Penelope tilted her chin defiantly. “Of course I am. What do I have to do?”

  “We need money for food, so we’re going out on the street. I want you to look as pitiful as you can. Imagine that you haven’t eaten in days. Pick out a wealthy couple, tug on the lady’s skirt, and beg prettily for a handout.”

  Penelope’s eyes lit up. “Does that really work?”

  “If you’re good enough.”

  “Oh, I’ll be very good.”

  Maddie had her act out the role a few times. The child did, indeed, have a gift.

  “I’m perfect,” Penelope cried. “Admit it, Madeline.”

  “Let’s go prove it.”

  A million and one things could go wrong. Maddie was a bundle of nerves, but once they were out on the street she realized she had nothing to fear. No one looked at her twice as she hugged her pretend infant close and clutched the hand of the little urchin beside her. Whenever they spotted a likely couple, Maddie nudged Penelope and let go of her hand.

  The child was a consummate actress. Dexter would have loved her.

  Once they had more than enough coin for a few meals, Maddie ducked into a passageway and led Penelope around to the back of a restaurant on Decatur Street. The cooks were more than generous, giving them free food even when Maddie offered to pay. They were carrying the bundled food back to the warehouse when Maddie turned down a back street and Penelope bolted toward a small knot of people gathered around a long serving table.

  An elderly woman was pounding a tambourine.

  Maddie stepped up to the edge of the gathering. One or two people turned to look at her, but they were more interested in the covered food in her hands.

  “That’s my child,” she said softly. “Please let me through.”

  Two men let her slip by. She reached Penelope and was just about to tell her they had to leave when she recognized a young woman standing on the other side of the table. Maddie hadn’t seen her for at least fifteen years, but she’d never forget that face.

  “Betsy —”

  “Maddie?”

  The missionary stared at Maddie in surprise. She dropped a soup ladle she was holding, and skirting the edge of the table, she ran around to embrace Maddie, careful not to crush the “infant” in Maddie’s arms.

  “Maddie! I can’t believe it’s you.”

  Maddie pulled back, stunned. “Oh, Bets. It’s been so long. What happened? Where did you go?” One day Betsy had been in the warehouse with the others, the next day she was gone. Dexter simply told them that she’d moved on.

  “I had to leave. I … couldn’t live that way anymore. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I used to wish you’d taken me with you —”

  “You were married. You had Louis.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh, Maddie. I’m sorry.” Betsy looked at Penelope. “Is this your daughter?”

  “Yes,” Penelope said, executing a curtsy.

  “No,” Maddie said at the same time.

  The missionary’s smile faded when she looked closer and realized the bundle in Maddie’s arms was only clothing.

  The woman sighed. “Come with me.”

  “We really should be going.” Maddie looked up and down the street. She’d already pressed her luck staying out so late. They needed to return to the warehouse before Abbott or the law found them. “I’ll try to come to see you again.”

  “Spare a moment, that’s all I ask. It’s been so long.”

  When Betsy gave her hands a squeeze Maddie couldn’t resist and followed her into the empty storefront behind them. It smelled of sawdust and fresh paint. Maddie pointed to the bench and told Penelope to sit, relieved when the girl did. Maddie pulled an apple out of the bundle.

  “Eat this,” she said.

  “But I don’t want —”

  “It’s all you’ll get tonight.”

  “I saw pie out there on the table.”

  “Of course you’re both welcome to pie,” Betsy said.

  “After we talk. It will just take a minute,” Maddie said.

  “All right then. Just for a minute.” Penelope sat down on the bench and spread out her skirt. “But I want that pie.”

  “Betsy, I really can’t tarry,” Maddie told her.

  “I imagine not.” The woman looked her over. “Are you still living on the street? Still running games?”

  “I’m just in a bind right now.”

  “I’m married, Maddie. I’m Elizabeth Henson now. I had no idea you were still in New Orleans, though I should have guessed when I heard the twins were still here.”

  “I was living on the bayou.” She couldn’t meet Betsy’s eyes. “But that’s a long story.”

  “A Pinkerton was here looking for a woman who may have been one of the tribe.”

  “Tonight?” Maddie was frantic thinking Abbott might be so close.

  “No, it was weeks ago now. He was looking for someone who disappeared when she was a child. Her sister is trying to find her. I told him to look for the twins, that they were still in town. I told him to look for Anita—”

  “Why?”

  “Because the woman he’s seeking might have been one of the children we cared for. One of the children that we —”

  Maddie had an urge to grab Penelope and run but she feared the girl would create a fuss.

  “Go get that pie. Now,” she told her.

  Penelope jumped up and scooted out the door.

  Maddie turned to Betsy. “Dexter never told us any of their real names. Why on earth would you set that Pinkerton on our trail?”

  “I thought perhaps Anita might know something that would help reunite sisters, Maddie. It’s a way to ease someone’s pain.”

  “I’m in big trouble, Bets. With that very Pinkerton.”

  “Then stop running and find him. Maybe he can help you and in turn, maybe you’ll be able to help him find the woman he’s looking for.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Tom Abbott was looking to help her all right. Help her right into a jail cell.

  Betsy took Maddie’s hands. “I’ve found my way. Now God is handing you a chance to change your life once and for all.”

  “God’s never given me any chances before. Why should this be any different?”

  The missionary turned to the window and watched her husband hand Penelope a slice of peach pie. “God’s given me all I need,” she said. “Now let me help you. Take my advice and contact the Pinkerton.”

  As Maddie hurried Penelope back to the warehouse she said, “You’re to call me ‘Mama’ when we’re on the street.”

  “Who was that woman?”

  “A missionary. She used to be an old friend.”

  “I think we need a tambourine. Their money jar was full up. If I had a tambourine I’d be able to get a lot more coin out of folks.” Penelope skipped a few steps ahead and then came back to Maddie’s side. “It’s really so easy. Just ask for it and people give you money.”

  “Some do, some don’t. Those who do just feel sorry for you. That’s all. They give you the money so you’ll go away and they won’t have to feel guilty for having more than you.”

  Penelope looked doubtful. “I think they gave it to me because they’re nice. Everybody’s got some good in them, except maybe those twins.”

  “Do you really believe that? That everyone has some good in them?”

  “I
do,” Penelope nodded with certainty. “Sometimes you just have to wait for it to come out, but it’s there.”

  Maddie didn’t believe it for a minute.

  Penelope was content with their grand adventure until twilight fell and shadows from nearby street lamps seeped through the holes in the roof and pierced the interior of the deserted warehouse. They heard the rustle of rodents scrambling through the piles of trash in the room and once in a while, the flutter of wings.

  “Are those bats?” Penelope stared up at the ceiling with her hands over her head.

  “Birds.”

  “Birds don’t fly around at night.”

  “Owls do. They eat mice too.”

  Penelope looked up. “I don’t see any owls.”

  Maddie shoved an old cot across the room for herself. She placed it near the huge armoire where she had made up a pallet.

  “I don’t like it in here,” the child whined after she climbed in. “It’s narrow and it’s too hard. How am I supposed to sleep?” Her eyes grew wide and fearful. “You’re not going to close the doors are you, Madeline?”

  “I’m not closing the doors.” Maddie had to look away.

  “I don’t trust you. Give me the key.” Penelope held out her hand.

  A frayed braided cord was still attached to the key in the lock. Maddie tugged on the cord. It was so rotted it snapped. She handed Penelope the key. “There, now get in and lie down. Please.”

  The child did as she was told but her hesitation proved she was not as brave as she let on. Maddie covered her with the cape before she stretched out on her own bare cot and draped her extra wool skirt over herself.

  Lying there in the dark warehouse, Maddie listened to the sounds of the city outside, an occasional shout amid the clip-clop of horses’ hooves, the clatter of carriage wheels against cobblestones, the shrill steam whistle from a riverboat. When she’d lived here, she barely noticed the clamor. Now she longed for the gentle heartbeat of the bayou, the mysterious sounds of the swamp to lull her to sleep.

  She drifted off only to find herself trapped in the web of her nightmare, wandering through the faded, raggedy-edged world of sounds and colors that always terrified her. She awoke with a start, afraid she had awakened Penelope, but the child was still softly snoring.