She wanted her partner back.
Her husband.
Ever since the Dobson’s party, he had been distant, and she didn’t understand it. The kiss they had shared, which she had initiated, should have told him exactly where her heart and mind were, diversion to keep Mrs. Dobson from the truth or not. Alexandra had gone so far beyond acting for the sake of their cover in that moment it was astonishing she’d heard the footsteps of their hostess at all.
And now this… It was as if the last few days and weeks had never happened and they were back in that miserable train with her chatting away in an attempt to break him, and his resistance irritating her.
Only this hurt far more.
“What should we do?” she murmured to the darkness, unable to look at Tucker. “Taverns? Sewers? Go to Dobson?”
“Don’t ask me what to do,” Tucker snapped, keeping his eyes heavenward. “You’re not helpless.”
Alexandra raised a brow he wouldn’t see. “Didn’t say I was. I was just trying to confer with my partner. Forgive my attempt at teamwork.”
He rolled his head against the brick of the wall, his throat moving. “Teamwork. Sure.”
What in the world had gotten into him? He was moodier than a mule in the sun in July, and less pitiable. “So we’re staying here, then?” she asked with all the sarcasm a Southern girl knew how to use. “Holding up a wall, are we?”
“I am trying,” he told her through gritted teeth, “to go over the blasted map in my head. I’m connecting the dots of last known locations, and your chirping is not helping.”
Alexandra held up her hands in surrender, eyes widening, then leaned back against the wall, hands behind her, and began to do the same thing in her own mind.
The map of the city unfolded before her, and she tried to connect the places marked, knowing each person had to have ended up at the docks at some point. A very rough schematic of potential tunnel routes began to sketch itself, and she shook her head, wishing they were back at the room so she could capture it.
“Thirteen can easily be taverns and the like on this side and the south,” she murmured, looking down their current alley. “The four on the north…”
“Sewers,” Tucker said bluntly. “Only possibility there.”
Alexandra nodded in agreement. “The western five…”
“Six,” Tucker corrected.
She frowned and looked over at him. “No, five.”
“Six,” he said again. “There was another one a few nights before Teague party.”
“What?” she cried before covering her mouth and cursing herself three ways to Sunday. She collected herself, then glared at him. “When did you find that out?”
Tucker shifted against the wall, looking down at his boots. “Dobson’s party. He and his men had only just found out, and he let me know.”
Alexandra stared silently, unable to comprehend only now discovering that there was another missing person. “And you’re only now telling me?” she hissed.
“Didn’t change anything,” came the cold reply. “Same as the rest. No sign, no witnesses, no ties to the rest. Dobson’s been running the investigation, but this one wasn’t a local. Businessman in town for work. Now we know a possible destination. Maybe we should head down to the docks.”
At this moment, she didn’t want to go to a fully stocked, abandoned bakery with him in the full light of day. He had hidden facts of the case from her?
“Call me crazy,” Alexandra said slowly, pushing off of the wall and straightening, “but I thought you just told me you had told me everything. Neglecting to inform me of another missing person seems in complete contradiction with that statement.”
“You’re right,” he said bluntly.
She was?
“You are crazy.” He, too, shoved off of the wall and started down the alley without her.
Grinding her teeth, she followed. “No, I’m not,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said honesty.”
“I did say honesty,” he told her over his shoulder. “Didn’t say full disclosure.”
“I am your partner, Tucker!”
“Really.”
It wasn’t a question and it made her stop in her tracks. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t stop as he rounded a corner, and Alexandra found herself forming fists, trudging after him again. If looks could kill…
Then she found herself nearly slamming into his back. “What in the world,” she grumbled as she teetered on uneven cobblestone.
“Shh!” he hissed, holding out a hand.
She was certainly not in the mood for obeying his commands and she rolled her eyes, sighing with impatience.
“Shh,” he said again, this time without the insistency.
That caught her. The buildings of the city suddenly seemed imposing, dark and cold, and every drip of water and creak of wood seemed to echo around them. Murmurs and hums from the disreputable businesses added their own layers to the eerie symphony, and, for the first time, she seemed to get a sense of just how dangerous this place could be. Had she felt any of that before? Or had having Tucker at her side shielded her from any of it?
He was still there, but it was different.
She had no shield now.
“Come on,” he said suddenly, his voice a hiss. Then he was off running, and Alexandra darted after him. Somehow he knew exactly where to go, anticipating every turn and puddle they faced. They weren’t silent now, but somehow, the sound of their movement only fit more with their surroundings.
Tucker darted into a tiny, almost invisible alley, grabbing Alexandra and forcing her behind him, a finger at his lips. She nodded once, and flattened herself against the wall, letting his shadow hide her entirely.
Then she heard it. Footsteps in the alley they had just left.
She covered her mouth as though it could make her breathing softer and turned her face away.
A crash to her right brought her back around and she saw Tucker on top of another man, wrestling and throwing punches as though his life depended on it. They rolled and the man he attacked lost his cap, his face suddenly exposed to what little moonlight there was.
Oh, heavens…
“Stop!” Alexandra cried, stepping out into the alley. “Stop!”
They didn’t.
She winced, prayed for strength, and tucked her fingers in her mouth for an ear-splitting whistle that seemed to quiet the entire city.
Both men stared at her in shock, and she would have laughed if anything in this situation was remotely amusing.
“Tucker, meet Charlie,” she muttered, gesturing to the man Tucker was currently attempting to choke. “Charlie, Tucker. My husband.”
“Pleasure,” Charlie gasped, gripping Tucker’s wrists in an attempt to wrench them away.
Tucker looked at Charlie for a moment, then jerked away as if stung, springing to his feet and stepping away, chest heaving. “The man from the Dobsons.”
Mercy, he’d seen them? Alexandra closed her eyes, pain lancing through her. “Yes. Charlie was hired by my father to follow me, make sure I was safe, and give him occasional reports. At Dobsons, he was warning me that questions were being asked about me, but everything was still safe.”
She looked at Tucker, and he stared at her in abject betrayal. “He’s been with us since Denver?”
“Since I left Savannah,” she whispered, the words ripping at her throat. “I’ve known Charlie since I was seven, but he didn’t travel with me. Just… on the same trains.”
“Same cars, too, Dra,” Charlie drawled, wiping at the blood at his lip. “Give me some credit.”
She glared at him, then returned her focus to Tucker. “He’s been in the background the entire time, but he knows nothing about the case.”
“Of course, he does,” Tucker scoffed as he folded his arms. “He’s knee deep in this if he’s tailing you. The telegram?” This question was directed at Charlie, not Alexandra.
“She brought it to me,” Char
lie replied without shame. “I sent it. When the response came, I delivered it to the boarding house.”
Tucker nodded thoughtfully. “Where you’re staying,” he supplied.
“Correct.”
Now Tucker looked at Alexandra again, and it was as though winter began and ended with one blink of his eyes. “And you lecture me about honesty. Perfect.” He shook his head, and pushed passed her and Charlie, headed back the way they had come.
Alexandra turned and looked after him, the breath leaving her lungs in almost frantic waves. “You’re leaving me alone in this part of the city?”
“You’re not alone, and you never have been,” he called. “You’ve got Charlie, remember? You’ll be fine.” He turned the corner, and was gone.
As was the air in her lungs, and the strength in her knees.
Fine? She wasn’t fine, and she wasn’t going to be fine.
Possibly ever.
“Come on, Dra,” Charlie said gently, taking her arm. “I’ll take you back to the boarding house.”
Alexandra slowly shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, her throat tightening. “If it’s all the same, Charlie, I’d like to be alone on my walk home. Do your job, but… leave me alone, please.”
Somehow, one foot moved forward in a hesitant step, and then the other. And then, miraculously, she found herself walking back, unable to feel the ground beneath her feet.
Chapter 9
For the first time since arriving in Portland, she could have slept without the screen in the room.
Tucker didn’t come back that night.
Or, if he did, he didn’t stay long. His things hadn’t been moved from the room, which had to be some sort of sign, she hoped. But after spending the entire day cooped up in the room waiting for him, Alexandra had to admit that she probably would see very little of him for the foreseeable future.
She couldn’t blame him, but she also couldn’t explain her side of things if she didn’t see him. And she couldn’t apologize, even if she had wanted to.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to yet, but eventually, she was sure she would.
If it would get Tucker back, she would act the penitent partner for the rest of eternity.
And mean it.
Mostly.
She already meant it enough to cry most of the day without completely understanding why, and she was not a woman prone to tears. All she knew was that she missed Tucker fiercely, and that the expression he had worn the night before haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
How could a man that drove her so completely mad on a semi-regular basis leave her feeling so very broken?
Whatever it was, she’d decided enough was enough and gone down to Mrs. Ames for the aforementioned lesson on making biscuits in exchange for berry cobbler. She was in desperate need of a distraction, and there was something to be said for finding comfort in good food.
So far, it was working moderately well. She’d only made a handful of mistakes, none of which were insurmountable. The biscuits were done, and smelled amazing, but tasted better. Most of them were sent out with dinner at the boarding house, and Alexandra thought Mrs. Ames would need to go out with them, but she had waved the suggestion off and insisted they begin work on the berry cobbler.
They were nearly ready for baking, and Alexandra found herself smiling, of all things.
“Now there’s the sight I have been waiting all day for.”
She looked over at the plump, motherly woman currently sweeping excess flour off the counter space. “My cobbler?” Alexandra asked, gesturing to the piece of art sitting before her.
Mrs. Ames gave her a knowing look. “A smile, Mrs. Carlton. You’ve made a good show of it, but that is the first real smile all afternoon. What’s the matter, dear?”
Alexandra immediately turned her attention to the cobbler and finishing touches before it could be put in the oven. “If I get into all that, Mrs. A, I’ll turn into a frightful mess, and I don’t do that unless I’m alone. I’ll be fine, I can assure you.”
“Oh, I know that,” came the reply. “I just thought it might help to share, but if it won’t, never mind the thing.” A faint humming of some childlike song began, and then the kitchen door burst open.
“Mrs. Ames, there’s a customer asking for you,” the maid said in a rush, giving them both an apologetic look.
Mrs. Ames sighed and set her rag down. “All right, Sara. I’ll be there directly.” She turned to Alexandra, smiling. “You go ahead and put that in the oven, dear. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Alexandra smiled tightly as she left, then let the smile fade with some relief.
She hadn’t meant to say anything about how she was feeling with Mrs. Ames, and she certainly hadn’t meant to avoid smiling, particularly as it apparently drew attention to her inner torment. If Mrs. Ames had pressed at all, Alexandra likely would have withered and told her everything, which would have ruined a great many things, one being her image, the other being her case.
She couldn’t risk the case, and she was rather protective of her image as well.
Shaking her head, she took the cobbler and placed it carefully the oven, then leaned against the table in the center of the room with a sigh.
Between tears and moments of lethargy, she’d looked over the maps again, this time imagining the tunnels beneath the city in relation to the missing persons. She’d even begun to lightly sketch an estimation of a few, though it was impossible to know the exact path. They’d had a fairly good idea of entrances to a few of the businesses in the southeast side of town, based on their early investigations, and knowing all, or most, would end up near the docks…
She rubbed at her brow now, sighing.
The docks, the tunnels, the smuggling… There were so many moving pieces, and without any ideas, she was as useless as Miss Gilbert in it all.
Miss Gilbert said he was down at the docks…
Alexandra’s head shot up, her eyes widening. Tucker had been at the docks as a businessman, not as an agent, and if she recollected correctly, he hadn’t told Sergeant Dobson about that particular detail. He hadn’t shared many details at all with any of them out of his own desire for secrecy in investigation. How would Miss Gilbert know about his dockside venture?
The only one who should have known about that was Mr. Creet and any of the foremen he brought in on the conversation.
Creet and Gilbert. Or if not Creet, one of his employees. He said there were no smuggling issues, yet Mrs.. Dobson assured Alexandra that her husband struggled against smuggling frequently. So either he was lying, or he was ignorant.
She highly doubted he was ignorant.
Her last conversation with Miss Gilbert replayed in her mind, the day of the telegram. She had been heading out to see her parents, she had said, and moving towards the west of town.
Now that she thought about it, that seemed wrong.
It seemed very wrong.
Biting her lip, she removed the apron Mrs. Ames had let her borrow and darted out of the kitchen, abandoning the berry cobbler for the sake of something potentially far more disastrous. There was no question about that. Her mind was racing with the case details she kept stored there. Taking the servants’ stair, as they did when they went out at night, she raced up to her room out of sight from any of the other guests.
Once in the room, she pulled back out all of the interview sheets they had collected, sorting through each and every one until she found what she was looking for.
Miss Gilbert.
Alexandra skimmed most of the details, looking for what was pertinent to her current thoughts.
Then she saw it. The address of her parents.
It was on the east side of town.
Tucker said the man went missing from the west side.
Where Miss Gilbert had been headed.
What was it Charlie had told her at the Dobson party? Someone had been asking questions about her around Portland, and if Miss Gilbert’s expressions were anything to go
by, she was not particularly fond of Alexandra, despite attempts at good manners when forced.
She could work with that.
Quickly, she changed into her trousers and comfortable clothing, losing any hint of finery and status. She grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted down a brief note for Tucker, taking care to avoid the obvious, then put all of their case files back in their hiding spot. She couldn’t wait for him, not without knowing when he would come back, if he would, but he needed to know.
An Agent for Alexandra Page 12
