An Agent for Amey

by Laura Beers

  Why was that?

  “I hope Jacob is available to show us where his wife was found,” Amey said, glancing over at him.

  “I hope so, as well.”

  She put her hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright sun. “I’m always amazed at how horrible cattle ranches smell.”

  “It’s quite an unpleasant odor, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Her eyes scanned the Tiners’ ranch. “Do you think you could ever work on a cattle ranch?”

  He shook his head. “No, I do not.”

  “I think I could,” she admitted.

  “Why is that?”

  She grinned. “I think it would be fun to round up the cattle and go on a cattle drive.”

  “Frankly, that sounds awful to me,” he replied. “Cows stink.”

  “That they do,” she agreed. “But it would be a fun adventure.”

  “Ah. Here we go again,” he said, glancing over at her. “You always seem to be chasing after a new adventure.”

  She nodded. “That’s why I love being a Pinkerton agent,” she admitted. “When one case is over, I’m assigned a new case, which is a whole new adventure.”

  “I’d never thought about that before.”

  “Growing up, my life was so predictable,” she stated. “It was exhausting to do the same thing every day with generally the same results.”

  “Some people enjoy structure in their lives.”

  “True, but I’m not one of them,” she shared. “My soul craves adventure.”

  Lincoln didn’t have time to respond to Amey’s comment before they reined in near the front of the Tiners’ home and dismounted. After they secured their horses, they approached the door and Lincoln knocked.

  They waited for a long moment, but the door was finally opened, revealing Jacob Tiner. He was in the process of buttoning up his black vest. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “We were hoping that you would show us where your wife was found,” Lincoln said.

  Jacob’s face fell flat. “Is that really necessary?”

  Amey stepped forward. “It is,” she replied, her voice full of compassion. “We need to start searching the woods, but we need to know where we should begin looking.”

  A pained look flashed in his eyes. “All right.” He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “Follow me. It’s only a short walk from here.”

  They followed Jacob as he stepped off the porch and started walking toward the woods located about fifty yards from his property.

  Amey spoke up from behind him. “How did you meet your wife, Mr. Tiner?”

  “It’s Jacob, if you don’t mind,” he corrected over his shoulder. “I met her while I was attending college back East.”

  Lincoln’s eyes roamed the woods as he asked, “Who’s your closest neighbor?”

  “On the other side of these woods is Jonathon Croft’s farm,” Jacob shared, pointing at the trees. “It’s about a mile walk.”

  “How often do you socialize with Jonathon Croft?” Lincoln asked.

  Jacob shrugged. “I suppose every time I go to church or attend a barn raising,” he answered. “Mrs. Croft was a dear friend of Doris’s. They would get together weekly to have tea and chat.”

  “But you weren’t exceptionally close to Mr. Croft?” Amey pressed.

  Jacob stopped at the edge of the trees. “I’m a very busy man, and I don’t have a lot of time to cultivate friendships. However, whenever Jonathon and I would get together, we were on friendly terms.”

  “You don’t think he would have had any reason to hurt your wife?” Lincoln inquired.

  “Heavens, no!” Jacob declared. “Jonathon is a kindhearted man who would give anyone the shirt off his back. He had nothing to do with my wife’s death. I guarantee it.”

  Lincoln put his hands up in front of him. “We just have to ask these tough questions.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jacob sighed. “I shouldn’t be getting so defensive, especially since you’re only doing your job.”

  Amey stepped closer to him. “Your defensiveness is understandable. Your emotions are still raw.”

  “Thank you for that,” Jacob said, giving her a brief smile. “Earlier today, I was packing up my wife’s clothes to donate to the church.”

  “That’s most kind of you,” Amey acknowledged.

  He hung his head. “But I couldn’t do it. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

  “Then don’t,” Amey urged. “Take all the time you need.”

  Jacob brought his gaze back up. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye.”

  “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Amey replied. “One day, you’ll be ready.”

  Jacob stared at Amey for a long moment before murmuring, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.” He shifted his gaze toward the trees. “I found Doris just through here.”

  Lincoln stepped into the woods and was immediately cloaked in the shade of green leaves. The sound of warbling birds could be heard around about them, and a gray squirrel scurried up a tree with a nut in its little cheek.

  Jacob walked over to a fallen log and stopped. “This is where I found her,” he said, wincing. “She was lying next to the log.”

  “How was she positioned?” Lincoln asked.

  “On her back,” Jacob replied, his eyes turning downcast.

  “What about her arms?”

  Jacob brought his gaze back, and he had a baffled look on his face. “Why?”

  “We’re thinking that Doris may have been killed somewhere else, and her body was deposited here,” Lincoln explained. “I’m trying to determine how the body was staged.”

  Jacob frowned. “Her hands were lying next to her body.”

  “And her legs?” Lincoln pressed.

  “Um… they were straight,” he replied. “Like she was asleep on her back.”

  Lincoln crouched down and touched the ground where Doris’s body was found. “That is interesting,” he replied.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand why that’s interesting,” Jacob stated.

  “Because the killer took great care to place her just so,” Amey answered as she came to stand next to Lincoln. “Furthermore, the killer took the time to deposit her body where someone would find it.”

  Jacob furrowed his brows. “What does that mean?”

  Lincoln rose slowly. “The killer wanted her to be found,” he replied decisively. “It could mean that we are dealing with a cold-blooded killer.”

  “But why would this person kill my wife?” Jacob asked, his voice taking on an edge.

  Lincoln turned to face him. “As of right now, I don’t know the answer to that question. But your wife may not have even known her attacker.”

  Jacob looked perturbed as he asked, “Is that supposed to provide me with solace?”

  “No. I’m merely speculating at this point,” Lincoln said.

  “Do you need anything else from me?” Jacob inquired.

  Lincoln shook his head. “No. Amey and I will search the surrounding areas and see if we can find any clues.”

  “I wish you luck with that, but be careful going too deep into the woods,” Jacob cautioned. “There is a section that backs up to a mountain, and the paths can be quite treacherous.”

  “Could Doris have traveled one of those paths?” Amey asked.

  “No, she would have known better,” Jacob said, turning to leave.

  Lincoln watched Jacob’s retreating figure before saying, “I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to lose one’s wife in such a horrible way.”

  “I agree,” Amey replied, her eyes roaming over the trees. “If Doris wasn’t killed here, then where do you think she was killed?”

  “My guess is that she was killed somewhere in these woods, and the killer brought her body here to be discovered,” Lincoln stated.

  “Which makes me wonder what the killer was trying to hide?”

  Lincoln crouched down next
to the log and looked for any clues that might have been left by the killer. “What if Doris was killed by a spurned lover?”

  Amey bobbed her head. “That’s likely, but Jacob has stated they were a love match.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that someone didn’t know that their spouse was cheating.”

  “That’s true,” Amey agreed. “Perhaps that’s why the lover took such great care with her body.”

  Lincoln nodded. “Exactly.” He rose. “I don’t see any boot prints, or anything that could point us to who the murderer was. But that’s to be expected, since Doris was murdered three weeks ago.”

  “We need to find that fabric,” Amey said firmly. “It might be best if we split up and search these woods.”

  “Absolutely not,” he stated. “We’re partners, and we’ll stick together.”

  “But…”

  He cut her off. “There’s a chance that we could be wrong and there is a cold-blooded killer loose in these woods.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Amey asserted as she placed her hand on the butt of her revolver.

  Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not entirely sure that you can.”

  Amey’s brow lifted as she asked in a steely voice, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m just saying that you’re a woman, and these woods are filled with dangerous…” His words trailed off when Amey turned on her heel and started walking deeper into the woods. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted after her retreating figure.

  “Away from you,” she replied over her shoulder.

  “Why?”

  “Because I have an overwhelming desire to shoot you.”

  He uncrossed his arms and let out a deep sigh. Were all women this cantankerous? Or was it just his partner?

  Amey couldn’t believe her partner was such an ignoramus. Lincoln may be dashingly handsome, but he was clueless when it came to women. How dare he question her ability to take care of herself? She’d been one of the top agents at the Female Detective Bureau in Chicago. She had arrested murderers, embezzlers, counterfeiters, and many other types of criminals.

  It was infuriating that she had to prove herself to Lincoln Hoyt. She tired of men always underestimating her because of her looks. They all wanted to protect her, but she didn’t need their protection. She could take care of herself.

  Lincoln glanced over at her as they rode back to town. She could see the frown on his face, but frankly she didn’t care. Let him be upset. It was no less than he deserved.

  They’d spent hours searching through the woods in absolute silence, even though Lincoln had attempted to make conversation with her on multiple occasions. Sadly, they were unable to find any sign of the fabric and were forced to end their search early when it started raining.

  Now they were soaked as they reined in their horses at the livery. After she’d brushed down Jasper and had him situated, they walked back toward the hotel on the muddy road.

  They stepped onto the porch in front of the hotel, and Lincoln opened the door for her. She nodded politely at Mrs. Willow as she crossed the entry hall and headed toward her room. She wanted to get out of these wet clothes and hopefully get something to eat from the dining room.

  Once they were in their room, she hurried over to her trunks and removed a maroon-colored gown. She stepped behind the changing partition and started removing her wet clothes.

  She heard Lincoln drop down onto the sofa and grumble, “Are you ever going to start talking to me?”

  “I am,” she replied, “but only if it’s about the case.”

  Lincoln sighed. “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m still mad at you.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous,” he declared.

  “Am I?” she questioned.

  “You are.”

  “How would you respond if someone questioned your ability to protect yourself?” she asked as she started putting on her gown.

  “No one would dare.”

  “Exactly,” she replied. “And why is that?”

  “Because I’ve proven myself on many occasions.”

  “As have I.”

  A pause. “But I’ve never seen you in action.”

  “I would be happy to prove to you what a crack shot I am,” she said. “Perhaps I could even outshoot you.”

  He huffed. “I truly doubt that.”

  “And why is that?”

  Another pause. “Because I was a sniper in the war.”

  Amey heard the pain in his voice at his own admission. “I hadn’t realized.”

  “It was not a job that I enjoyed,” he replied, his voice tight. “But it was crucial for me to be accurate. Lives depended on it.”

  “I can only imagine,” she murmured.

  “It’s not something that I admit freely.”

  “Were your brothers snipers, as well?”

  “No, they weren’t. We weren’t even in the same brigade.”

  “How were you recruited to be a sniper?”

  “At a young age, I discovered that I had a knack for shooting, and I got really good. Too good, sadly.”

  After she fastened her last button, she came around the partition. “Why was that?”

  “My job was to kill men at my discretion,” Lincoln replied, stretching out his long legs. “I was to perceive a threat and take that person out.”

  Amey gave him a sympathetic look. “That must have been awful for you.”

  “I decided who would live to see another day,” he said as he shifted his gaze toward the window. “I hated it.”

  Closing the distance between them, Amey sat down next to her husband. “I imagine that you saved the lives of many of the soldiers in your brigade because of what you did.”

  “That’s true,” he murmured, bringing his gaze back to meet hers. “Ironically, my older brother, Marvin, was killed by a sniper.”

  Reaching out, she placed her hand on his sleeve. “I am truly sorry for your loss.”

  He looked down at her hand for a brief moment but made no attempt to move his arm. “My other brother died shortly thereafter on the battlefield.” Tears came to his eyes, but he blinked them away. “What hurts the most is that I was never able to say good-bye. To tell them how much they meant to me.”

  “I’m sure they already knew.”

  He winced slightly. “Growing up, I idolized my brothers,” he shared. “I wanted to be just like them in so many ways. And when they signed up for the war, it was only a matter of time before I did, as well.”

  “How did your mother and father cope with having all three sons in the war?”

  He huffed. “Not very well,” he revealed. “My mother begged me not to enlist, but I was too hard-headed to listen. I wanted to prove myself.”

  “And you did.”

  Lincoln’s voice was strained as he admitted, “No. All that I accomplished was to come home as a broken man.”

  “In what way?” she asked, moving closer to him.

  “I’ve killed too many people, and done too many horrible things, to ever believe that I can have a normal life,” he sighed.

  “That’s not true, Lincoln,” she asserted. “What you were forced to endure in the war has only made you stronger.”

  He pressed his lips tightly together as if trying to suppress his growing emotions. “All those men that I killed,” his voice hitched, “had families that loved them. That desperately wanted them to come home. And I… I… killed them.”

  Amey heard the agony in Lincoln’s voice, and she wrapped her arms around him. “You had no choice in the matter. You were just following orders.”

  Lincoln remained rigid for a moment before he surrendered to her touch. He brought his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

  “That doesn’t make it any easier,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I suppose it doesn’t, but I’m grateful for men like you that fought for our country.”

  Lincoln leaned ba
ck and lowered his arms. “I did nothing that deserves your praise,” he remarked dismissively.

  “I disagree,” she argued. “You willingly signed up to fight to preserve our freedoms.”

  “Thank you for that,” he said, abruptly rising, “but it doesn’t change anything.”

  Amey watched as Lincoln walked over to the open window and looked out.

  “I tire of killing people,” he admitted. “But I’ve come across some really stupid criminals who have left me no choice.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s a part of being a Pinkerton agent,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’ve never delighted in taking another’s life, either.”

  Lincoln’s expression was filled with anguish as he shared, “If I didn’t love being a blasted agent so much, I would hang up my hat and work in my family’s business.”

  “Which is?”

  He met her gaze. “My parents own a shipping business.”

  Realization dawned on her. “Do your parents own Hoyt Transit Company?”

  He nodded.

  “Your parents are shipping magnates!” she exclaimed in astonishment.

  “They also own a fair amount of property in New York,” he admitted.

  She stared at him incredulously. “Why would you work as a Pinkerton agent, then?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Perhaps I crave adventure as much as you do. Or it could be that I’m trying to find a purpose in my life.”

  The sound of shattering glass could be heard in the distance, followed by men shouting at one another.

  Lincoln placed his hands on the windowsill and sighed. “Frankly, I feel like I’m walking in a haze, and I’m lost.”

  Amey rose from the sofa and walked over to him. “It’s all right to feel that way, Lincoln. But I believe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked, meeting her gaze.

  She gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re making a real difference as a Pinkerton agent. You’re saving lives and stopping the bad guys.”

  Lincoln’s eyes were imploring as he asked, “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” she asked, confused.

  “Get me to confide in you.” He pushed away from the windowsill and turned to face her. “I haven’t shared my story with anyone since I left the war.”