By the time she got to the point about the notes, she realized that she’d neglected to tell Ruth about the second one. She and Mr. Owens had assured them they would speak to all the Harvey Girls again and get to the root of it since it couldn’t possibly be a prank. If one of the other waitresses had been hired to scare her, or worse, then that meant Emma Grace had been in more danger than any of them imagined.
While the Pinkerton man took copious notes the entire time and asked her question after question, his face never changed. He’d even asked for a description of the man she’d seen enter her father’s study, and he’d drawn a likeness right then and there.
But he thought it was possible that she was guilty of murder! And he said others believed that too. Was that why Mr. Scott thought that she was in danger? Or was this all a horrible and elaborate ruse that Wellington had concocted and then spread around so that he could hire a Pinkerton to arrest her? It definitely didn’t sound like he wanted to marry her.
She watched the man scribble in his notepad. Empty coffee cups littered the table.
“Mr. Samson, I’ve given you the truth of everything. Why do I have the feeling that you aren’t being honest with me?”
The man leaned back in his chair and looked around the table. “This is the strangest case I’ve ever worked on.” He shook his head. “I can’t quite believe it.”
“Well, I can promise you that I did not kill my father!”
Everyone around the table took up her defense, and they drowned out one another with their protests.
The Pinkerton held up a hand. “Hold on. Hold on!” His shout quieted everyone down. “That’s not what I’m having trouble believing, Miss McMurray. I’m quite certain of your innocence now.”
“Then what is the problem?” Ray placed his hand over hers and squeezed.
“Never in my life have I not been able to see the truth that was right in front of my face.” The agent clenched his jaw. “But I’m afraid that the man who killed your father is the man who hired me to find you.” He held up his sketch. “And I told him where you are.”
19
Emma Grace jumped out of her chair and put a hand over her stomach. “So it was Mr. Wellington who hired you? You mean he knows I’m here?”
Ray and Mr. Owens both came to her side, and they each held one of her arms as she stood there, shaking.
Mr. Samson let out a huff. “He showed me the contract that he made with your father—the one about agreeing to marry you and then the holdings he would then own. He acted all distraught and upset that you were gone, and he said that he wanted you found alive so that he could make things right. Apparently, he’d hired several men before, and they’d all come up empty.”
“Get to the part where he knows that Emma Grace is here.” Ray’s grip tightened on her arm.
“I sent him a telegram a few days ago when I figured out she was here. Then I sent another one this afternoon after I confirmed it.”
“Then that’s it. He’ll come for me.” Her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer and she sat back down in the chair. There was the very real possibility that the man had killed her father. “Did I endanger everyone here?” She swallowed, but a lump had formed in her throat.
“No. We will not let him harm anyone. We have the upper hand—we know he’s coming.” Ray’s tone was firm.
The men continued talking but her ears had begun to ring and all the sound was muffled.
Lord, I don’t know what to do. Help me. Please. She laid her head on her arms on the table. There was nothing else she could do. Except maybe run again.
Ruth’s voice broke the conversation among the men. “Gentlemen, I’m going to have to insist that we are done for tonight. It’s late, and we have guests to take care of in the morning.”
“Let me make some inquiries now that I have more details.” The Pinkerton man looked solemn as he tapped his notebook on the table. “Is there sometime tomorrow that we could gather together and discuss where things stand?”
Ruth helped Emma Grace to her feet. “Tomorrow is Sunday. We could potentially meet after brunch. There will be a small amount of time where we could meet in this room again. Mr. Owens, could you arrange that, please? But for now, I’m going to take Emma Grace back to her room and see what I can do to help her sleep.”
Their manager nodded and said something to the men, but she had tuned him out. The thought of being in her room all alone made her feel vulnerable. As they left the private dining room, she leaned close to Ruth. “Would you mind staying in my room tonight? It might be the only way I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I was already planning on it.” The squeeze to her arm was reassuring but not enough to banish all the swirling thoughts that threatened to overtake her mind.
She wouldn’t be able to sleep. Probably not ever again. Not now that she knew the man who killed her father was after her. He was probably already on his way.
The night had passed in fitful sleep for Ray. He doubted he’d actually had any rest. His worry for Emma Grace and the situation surrounding her identity weighed him down like an elephant on his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he wanted to do anything and everything within his power to protect someone else.
He’d prayed for a good portion of the night. And when there were no words remaining, he just left it all at the feet of the Lord and knew that He understood.
The one thing Ray wished for was guidance. Which path should he choose? How could he protect Emma Grace and get to the truth at the same time?
He’d asked Dad this morning if he knew this Wellington fellow. But his father had been more interested in the cause behind Ray asking the question than the question itself: Did Wellington have a lot of money? Was he someone that he should go into business with? What was he worth?
Ray had wanted to pull his hair out.
Then Dad had gone off about the new men that he had just hired and that they weren’t getting everything done in a timely manner. The conversation had ended with Dad heading off to bed and him mumbling to “Henry” on his way back to his room.
Ray looked over at the piece of paper on the table before he left the room. The telegram from Dr. Prentiss had confirmed Ray’s suspicions. Pre-senile dementia was what the family doctor called it. But he said it shouldn’t be affecting Dad’s work because most of the time, he had perfect clarity. Obviously, things had escalated. Dad didn’t seem to be in his right mind half the time now, at least since he’d traveled out to Arizona. John confirmed it as well.
But Ray would have to deal with that after he made sure that Emma Grace was safe. John assured him that he would stay by his father’s side and make sure that he kept him out of trouble for the time being.
Ray checked his watch. Seven twenty-eight in the morning. He paced the Rendezvous Room before sitting down near the fireplace. Peter Samson was supposed to meet him at seven thirty. At first, he’d thought the Pinkerton was out to hurt Emma Grace, but after last night, Ray hoped the man could help them.
Peter came down the stairs, his brow in a deep V. “Good morning.”
Ray nodded in return. “Have you heard back from any of your contacts?”
The man unbuttoned his jacket and took the seat across from him. As he clasped his hands in front of him, his frown deepened. “Apparently, Wellington left a few days ago. He was heading west.”
“That means he could be here at any time.”
“I’m afraid so.” Peter held up a hand. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are a lot of variables here that I haven’t been able to put together. Like I said before, this case baffles me.”
“Is there anything that we can do to keep Emma Grace safe? We can’t exactly prevent anyone from coming here.”
“No. There’s nothing more we can do. But rest assured, I plan on getting to the bottom of this. I’ve never left a case undone. Never.”
“But if the man who hired you is the murderer? What’s your motivation for solving the case? How would y
ou get paid?”
Peter huffed. “I’ve been paid a substantial amount already. At this point, justice is more important than my financial gain. I can’t have my reputation tied to a criminal.”
Mr. Owens crashed through the front door. “Call the police immediately!”
Ray and Peter stood at the same time.
A couple of men followed in the manager’s wake, their faces grim.
Peter headed toward Owens. “What’s happened?”
“We’ve been robbed. That’s what’s happened.” The manager’s face was fierce. “The entire priceless Harvey collection on display at the Hopi House is gone.”
Emma Grace paced her little room. The past two days had passed in a blur of tense conversations but no solutions. Everyone had decided that it would be best for her to stay in her room for a few days since Mr. Samson had confirmed that Wellington was on the way and everyone was in an uproar about the art theft. What if the second theft was orchestrated by the same men who’d attacked her on the rim? Would they come after her again?
She put a hand to her stomach. Fear had her all tied up in knots. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. The words washed over her.
But no matter how hard she tried, the events surrounding her overwhelmed her mind.
There were the notes, and Mr. Owens hadn’t found the culprit. They’d all hoped it was a prank after the first one, but deep down she knew it was more than that. And since they weren’t sure who had left them, she’d been instructed to not open her door for anyone. Ruth could access Emma Grace’s room through the door between their rooms, bring her food, and do her best to protect her.
The threat of Wellington coming made everything else pale in comparison.
Wellington. The mention of his name sent a shiver up her spine.
But life at the El Tovar had to go on. The hotel was completely booked. While the theft proved a good source of gossip for their patrons, it couldn’t bring their day-to-day operations to a halt. Since it was now Monday, Mr. Owens had decided his best course of action was to speak to all the staff today and tell them the truth of who Emma Grace was. Even if there was a betrayer among them, he felt that the more people who understood what was happening, the more they could look out for one another. Mr. Samson agreed.
The thought of having all the staff rally around her was lovely and comforting. Except, in truth, she had no idea what the future would hold. The monster of her nightmares all these years was after her. Tensions were high.
She put a hand to her forehead. Five years of hiding, and it hadn’t helped one bit. Why hadn’t she simply come forward after her father’s murder? She’d been young. And afraid.
Rubbing her forehead, she placed the other hand on her hip and stood in the middle of the floor. The thought of how she’d left and the last words she’d spoken to her father made her heart ache. No matter how bad their relationship had been since Mother died, no matter how he’d treated her at the end, he was still her dad. Why couldn’t they have had a sweet father-daughter relationship? Like her childhood best friend, Mary, and her father?
But that wasn’t what she’d been given. Her new relationship with the Lord helped her to see that she wanted to be content with what she had. But that didn’t mean the questions didn’t plague her.
Back to pacing, she fidgeted her fingers. Ruth had allowed Ray to come and visit with her a few moments last evening, but it hadn’t been long enough. What she wouldn’t do to have his comforting presence right now. There were too many unknowns. Too many threats.
There was a soft tap at the door adjoining her room to Ruth’s, and then it opened. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” Ruth brought in a tray of tea.
“Hardly.” Emma Grace gave her a half-hearted laugh. “It’s tile. It would take me a hundred years to accomplish that.”
“Well, at least your senses haven’t left you.” Ruth winked at her and poured a cup of tea. “Sit down. Drink.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Cheeky girl.”
The words made her smile. “You know, my mother used to say that to me. I know I exasperated her a lot. She used words like cheeky, stubborn, independent, tenacious . . . then made me go look them up in the dictionary and write out the definitions so that I could think about who I really wanted to be.”
“When I first met you, I would have found that hard to believe. But now?” Ruth tilted her head and quirked that one eyebrow up. “I can imagine you were a handful.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
Ruth sipped her tea. “I have full confidence that Mr. Samson will help to clear all of this up. He went to Williams and he knows who Wellington is, so he can stop him before he takes the train here. And the robbery Saturday night was most assuredly committed by the men who attacked you. That must have been part of their plan—to wait until the sheriff believed they were no longer in the area and then strike for the second time. The law will find them and catch them, and I have no doubt this will be resolved soon. I just hope and pray that all of Mr. Harvey’s collection hasn’t been harmed. The Hopi people take great pride in working here. I can imagine it has many of them scared.”
“That’s a lot of positive thinking. How can you be so certain?”
“I can’t, but I have been praying and have faith that the God who knows the number of hairs on our heads will make sure that this situation is resolved.” Her friend sat on the edge of her bed and sipped at her tea. “However that happens.”
A light tapping sounded at the door.
Emma Grace exchanged glances with Ruth, and her friend went to the door.
She cracked it an inch. “Why, Caroline . . . whatever is the matter?”
As her trainee entered, the girl wiped at her cheeks, but more tears cascaded down. “I need to tell you something.”
“All right.” Ruth pulled out the chair for her. “Sit down.”
The girl covered her face with her hands and continued to sob. “I’ve done something horrible.”
Ruth’s shoulders straightened, and she clasped her hands together. “Go on.”
A sinking feeling in Emma Grace’s stomach made her want to reach out and comfort her young friend, but she hesitated. Caroline hadn’t looked her in the eye since she entered the room.
The moments stretched out as Caroline sniffed and tried to compose herself. With a dip of her chin, she stared at the floor. “I wrote the notes.”
Emma Grace gasped. “What? Why?”
Ruth stiffened and moved protectively toward her. “Why would you do such a thing?”
The waitress’s head ducked lower. “My brother is sick, and I’ve been sending all my money home to help with the bills. I . . . I came to find Emma Grace that morning you were called into Mr. Owens’ office, and I . . . I eavesdropped at the door. When I heard who she was, and that she had all that money, well . . .”
“Why didn’t you just ask me for help?” Surprisingly, Emma Grace didn’t feel angry. Compassion filled her instead.
“You were so nice to me . . . but all the other girls could tell that you were better than the rest of us. I didn’t think . . .” Caroline sobbed some more.
“You didn’t think. That’s clear enough. So, you thought to bribe your friend? And mentor?” Ruth’s voice was stern.
“I felt so guilty after I left the first note. That’s why I made some for the others . . . so you would just think it wasn’t directed at you, because I didn’t think I could follow through with anything deceitful. But then I received a letter from my mother telling me surgery was required, but they didn’t have enough money, and I was desperate to try and get the money to help my family, so I left the other note. I intended to . . . to . . .” She cleared her throat. “Blackmail you by threatening to tell people who you were if you didn’t help me financially. But that plan lasted all of ten minutes. I knew it was wrong. And I couldn’t do it.”
Her eyes plea
ded with Emma Grace as the words spilled out. “Please forgive me. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything, but I didn’t want my little brother to die.” She looked down at her lap. “Mr. Owens questioned all of us, and I was afraid I’d lose my job, and then who would provide for my family? I panicked. But I’ve felt so guilty that I had to come tell you the truth. Even if I do lose my job.” She glanced up. The tortured look on her face made Emma Grace feel sorry for her.
She leaned forward and placed a hand on Caroline’s arm. “I’m not better than anyone else. No one is. I’m sorry about your brother—”
“I’m so sorry, Emma Grace. Can you ever forgive me?” Caroline dropped to her knees in front of her.
“Of course I forgive you.” There’d been no hesitation. No question. She’d been willing to offer it before Caroline even asked for it. A notion that both surprised and brought great comfort to her.
The younger girl collapsed into a pile of tears.
Ruth got down on her knees next to Caroline. “What you did was very wrong, Caroline. I am going to need some time to pray and think about whether or not I need to bring this to Mr. Owens’ attention and what consequences there will be. But thank you for coming to us and telling the truth.” She glanced at the clock. “For right now, you need to wash your face and head back upstairs. You have work to finish.” While her voice was firm, it held grace. And love.
Caroline didn’t hesitate to get up from the floor. Nodding her head, she wiped at her cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned and went out the door.
Emma Grace watched Ruth for several moments. “You can’t fire her. You can’t. If she’s the only support for her family . . .” She let out a long sigh. “Why does money do such awful things to people? Caroline would never have thought to do anything of the sort if she hadn’t been desperate.”
A Deep Divide Page 24