Madison's Gift

by Marie Higgins

  His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Perhaps.”

  “Will you go talk with your captain? I can go with you if you like.”

  “Let me think about it. I’m still worried that he’ll try and arrest me.”

  “But you have more information now than you did yesterday, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then perhaps he will re-think his decision to arrest you. After all, you have never let him down before, have you?”

  “Never.” Sighing, he released her and stepped back. “Are you strong enough to walk or do I need to carry you up the stairs?”

  “I can walk now.” She smiled.

  Although her body wasn’t weak any longer, her hammering heart was weak in the worst way. Cameron was such a handsome man, but the fascination she had for him surpassed his appearance. She loved how he put his family first. She loved how he cared about other people. And she loved how excited he became when he was close to solving a case. She could certainly relate to that enthusiasm.

  Thankfully, nobody spotted them as they walked outside. They didn’t speak again until they were walking toward their buggy. He was quiet, which she’d come to realize meant his mind was at work, trying to figure out the clues from her vision. As she thought back over this last one, again, something struck her as odd. The ring on the man’s finger looked familiar. But she couldn’t remember where she would have seen it.

  Once inside the buggy, Cameron grabbed the reins and urged the horse into a trot. He glanced her way and gave her a tender smile.

  “I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I’m really happy that you are with me today,” he said.

  “I’m very happy to be here with you.” Her heart softened.

  His smile waned. “So tell me, was my sister all right?”

  She lost her smile. “No. She was terrified of this man. He was yelling at her because she’d left her room. She tried to explain why, but he kept cutting her off. He told her he didn’t want her to think, or even speak out of turn.” She shivered, recalling the fear she felt while watching this little scene. “He’d told her that she hadn’t learned her lesson yet. That’s when he hit her across the face.”

  Cameron’s fingers tightened on the reins and his hands reddened. So did his face. “I hope my sister can fight him off. As a child, she was so much like a tomboy. She didn’t start acting like a delicate flower until she was twelve or thirteen years of age.”

  “Do you think she would fight this man?”

  “I don’t know. If he’s that overbearing, she might back off. If she feels that she can win, she will keep on fighting for herself.”

  Madison sighed heavily. “She didn’t look like she could fight him. And it wasn’t because he was the much bigger than her, because his build wasn’t very large at all.” Her mind scrambled, thinking back over the men she’d met lately that she could compare with this one. Suddenly, a man’s face popped into her mind. “Oh, I know.” She turned to him and touched his arm. “He’s about as big as Gaynor...”

  Within seconds, the man she’d studied so thoroughly while they were at Mr. Bailey’s house, came into her mind. From head to toe, she could see him more clearly now. Not only did he have the same build as the man who’d struck Rosie, but...

  She hitched a breath. “Cameron! Gaynor has chestnut colored hair, too. And it was messy, just like the man in my vision.” Her mind switched again. “And he has a walking stick.” Once again, her mind zeroed in on his hand. “Cameron! Gaynor was wearing a silver and red ring on his right hand, too!”

  Cussing under his breath, he whipped the reins, coaxing the horse into a run. “We’re going back to Mr. Bailey’s house, and this time, we will search the premises. We’ll not take no for an answer!”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What’s not wise about it?”

  “His whole family is there to protect him, and you are the only one who knows how to use a pistol.” She ran her gaze over him. “But you aren’t even carrying a weapon.”

  He brought the horse to a stop before growling and pushing his fingers through his hair. “If I return home before going after Gaynor, it’ll be dark by the time I get there.”

  She pointed back toward the station. “Can’t you ask the men you work with for help?”

  Cameron lowered his head as he rubbed his temples. “No, I cannot. If the captain saw me—”

  “Then make sure the captain doesn’t see you.”

  “No, Madison. It just will not work.”

  He must be joking! “Why not? Is Gaynor Brailsford not a murder suspect?”

  Shaking his head, he peeked at her. “Only to us. Not to the other officers.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He turned toward her and took hold of her hands. “Because we only know about Gaynor through your visions.”

  “Exactly!” She practically shouted.

  “Those men inside the station,” he motioned his head toward the building, “do not believe in your visions. They wouldn’t go with me because they’d think I was as crazy as...”

  His voice stopped short. But he didn’t need to finish his sentence. She knew exactly what he was going to say. Betrayal crushed her chest, shattering her heart. Although he believed her to a point, he didn’t want to defend her in front of his friends.

  She jerked her hands away from his warm touch and her whole body turned cold. Her throat tightened, and she fought back the tears threatening to fill her eyes. She cleared her throat for fear it would crack when she spoke.

  “I understand perfectly well.” Without another thought, she jumped down from the buggy. When she looked at him again, anger guided her words. “Mr. Westland, I shall let you take over your investigations now. I have helped you the best way I know how, and you must do the rest. Please tell Alice goodbye for me, because I have no need to see either one of you ever again.”

  She spun around and marched back toward the station. With every step, her heart shattered that much more, and she scolded herself for falling in love with the charming investigator. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, and she vowed she’d never repeat her mistake again.

  THIRTEEN

  I’m such a fool!

  Cameron gripped his fingers around the reins as he pushed his steed faster. It had been an agonizing twenty-four hours without Madison, and as each minute passed, he knew he’d made a colossal mistake.

  Wind whipped around his face and stung his cheeks. He leaned down, closer to the horse as he raced through the fields, wishing speed would also remove the mistakes he’d made recently. Beginning, of course, when he allowed Madison to walk away.

  Why had he verbalized his doubts? He was allowed to doubt since he’d been raised to see proof before coming to a conclusion of guilt, or innocence. But since meeting Madison, all of his training flew out the window and left him wondering about her every move. Now he realized the mistake. Her method of finding people was entirely different from his, but that wasn’t necessarily wrong, was it?

  Despair and loneliness had been his companions since she left. He deserved this harsh punishment, for letting her leave. Yet, perhaps it was best that she wasn’t in his life any longer. Indeed, he’d been sinking fast in that emotion called love.

  Or had it been infatuation? Now he’d never know his true feelings for Madison.

  Alice had been livid when he’d returned home without Madison, but he assured his sister that Miss Haywood’s services were not required any longer. If only he could convince himself of that, too.

  That night he had returned to Mr. Bailey’s house to spy on it from a distance. He saw nothing that made him believe Rosie was there. In fact, he hadn’t even seen Gaynor.

  Once he had returned home, he tried pushing Madison out of his mind by focusing on the evidence and things Madison had seen in her visions. Unfortunately, no matter what he did, that woman was in his head. Every time he turned around, he was seeing her in his home, remembering whe
n they had talked in the music room, and watching her eyes light up. He saw her in the sitting room when he’d walked in as Uncle Henry. She’d laughed, and the uplifting sound of her voice was permanently engraved in his mind.

  He’d been a complete imbecile this whole time. He shouldn’t have run from Captain Orwood, but instead, Cameron should have stood his ground. He had not killed Mr. Bailey, and he could prove it...even though there was no physical proof, but he was certain his sister or Mrs. Trumble had heard him come home that night. Cameron would also remind the captain of all the many things he had done to earn his superior’s trust. Cameron was a very good inspector, and he wouldn’t let one man’s death make him believe otherwise.

  As his destination came into view, he slowed his horse. The small cottage up ahead belonged to one of the other officers. Since talking to Garrick and Flannery the other night, Cameron had been thinking of Douglas McGreer quite often. Cameron needed to know for certain if McGreer had come to the station, taken the key, and went down into the cells. And if the man had done that, what was his purpose?

  The closer he came to the cottage, he studied the layout. The two-story structure sat back amongst the trees. Three children played with their Golden Retriever in the yard, as Mrs. McGreer took down the laundry from off the line. Near the house, Douglas sat on a chair with his broken leg propped on a box; his crutch lying on the grass next to him.

  It was a cozy little scene, if Cameron said so himself. He’d never imagined Douglas McGreer to be a violent kind of man, and seeing the family this way made Cameron question the other man’s motives. Had McGreer been in Mr. Bailey’s cell and killed him?

  Cameron’s gut feeling told him no.

  The dog was the first to spot him as he trotted his horse upon their property. The animal barked and ran toward him as the family turned and looked his way. Cameron lifted his hand toward Douglas in polite greeting.

  The slightly older man grabbed his crutch and rose to his feet. Slowly, he hobbled toward Cameron.

  “Westland,” he greeted in a loud voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

  Cameron stopped his horse and then dismounted. He unhooked the chinstrap of his hat and rested it over the saddle horn. One of McGreer’s boys ran up to take the reins from him before leading the animal away toward the pasture.

  “Forgive me for dropping by so suddenly, but I have a few questions to ask you. Something happened at the station that has me and Orwood perplexed.” Cameron motioned his hand toward the field. “Can you walk with me, or do you need to sit?”

  “I can walk as long as I have my crutch, and as long as we don’t plan on trekking to the next town, I shall be fine.” McGreer laughed, displaying his crooked buck-teeth.

  Once they were far enough away from the family, Cameron decided to start grilling McGreer with questions. “Have you been doing a lot of walking these past few days?”

  Frowning, McGreer shook his head. “I try to help my wife, but some days it just gets too much for me to handle.”

  “Have you been into the station since you broke your leg? I’d heard you had come in the other evening.”

  McGreer stopped and gazed at Cameron with wide eyes. “You heard this? From whom? I assure you, I have been at home since my accident.”

  Releasing an uneasy breath, Cameron linked his arms behind him. As he studied the other man’s face, he rocked back on his heels. “The other day one of our prisoners was murdered right there in his cell. One of the night officers reported seeing you come into the building, take the keys, and head down the stairs toward the cells.”

  McGreer snorted a laugh. “He saw me? Pray, how am I supposed to walk down those narrow stairs with a broken leg and crutch?”

  “I thought that as well,” Cameron nodded, “however, the man who went down the stairs and had a crutch was your height, your build, with your color of hair. That’s why this particular officer thought it was you.”

  “But nobody actually saw my face, correct?” McGreer arched a reddish-brown bushy eyebrow.

  “Correct.”

  “Well, I understand why you rode out here to question me, Westland, however, I can tell you now that it was a wasted trip. Although I have been walking and trying to build up my strength on my leg, I can assure you, I have not left my property. My wife is my witness. She won’t even allow me to get close to a horse, let alone ride one.”

  “That’s good to know.” Cameron placed an assuring hand on McGreer’s shoulder. “But you understand I had to ask you, regardless. I didn’t believe it was you, either, but...”

  “Think nothing of it.” McGreer smiled. “If the man was dressed like me and had a crutch, I’d think the same thing. However—” he scratched his scruffy chin, “now I’m wondering who looks like me and has a broken leg. That, my good man, is too coincidental.”

  “Indeed it is.” Cameron stepped back and tapped his finger on his chin. “And if there isn’t another man around who looks like you, why is someone trying to make it look as though you were the one inside the station?”

  “Now you’re thinking clearly.” McGreer leaned heavily on his crutch. “Who was the prisoner?”

  “Mr. Jacob Bailey.”

  McGreer’s mouth drew tight as he shook his head. “Never heard of the bloke.”

  “He’s related to Lord Hanover, Gaynor Brailsford, and Heath Langston.”

  One of McGreer’s eyebrows arched. “Langston, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “If he is the bloke I’m thinking about, my wife is friends with his sister.”

  Cameron’s mind scrambled to remember what Heath Langston looked like, but he couldn’t recall. He and Madison had been solely focused on Gaynor...and Lord Hanover, of course. Langston had been in the room, but the man hadn’t spoken, or even looked at them, for that matter. He’d stood by the window, staring out onto the yard. Or had that particular nephew of Lord Hanover been behind his uncle during their conversation?

  Gritting his teeth, Cameron raked his fingers through his hair, wishing his memory would start working. But the truth was, the other man didn’t stand out. He hadn’t been part of the conversation, which made him easy to forget. Madison would remember, though!

  He grumbled under his breath. She likely wouldn’t want to see him, and if he questioned her about what Heath Langston had looked like, she’d think him a dolt for not remembering something so vital, especially since he was a police investigator.

  Cameron blew out a frustrated breath. “So it appears there might be a link to the prisoner and your connection, after all.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” McGreer nodded sharply.

  “Then I bid you a good evening, and I’ll discover where Heath Langston lives and drop in on him for a short visit.”

  McGreer smiled fully. “That’s using your head, my good man. How I wish I could join you on this case, but I fear the doctor still says I cannot return to work just yet.”

  “You heal that leg first, and then come back.” Cameron pointed his finger at his friend. “Or else you will not be any use to us at all.”

  “I know.”

  Cameron turned, and headed toward his horse.

  “Let me know how this case turns out,” McGreer called.

  “I will,” Cameron said over his shoulder as he set his hat back on his head and mounted.

  As he rode toward home, he tried to piece together in his mind what he knew about the man who’d dressed like McGreer...and looked similar to him. Cameron was certain this was the man who’d killed Mr. Bailey. If Langston’s sister was friends with Mrs. McGreer, Langston would know that McGreer was a police officer, and that he was crippled with a broken leg. Langston would know that McGreer could get a key to the cell. Had Langston killed Bailey just so he’d be the next heir named? And yet, what did this have to do with Rosie and Gaynor?

  Cameron’s head pounded with confusion. He must get to the bottom of this.

  THE COOL NIGHT WIND bit Madison’s
cheeks and nose. She shivered and bundled her black cloak around her shoulders as she watched through the thicket of trees toward Mr. Bailey’s home. Perhaps tonight wasn’t the best time to spy on the place, but if she didn’t solve this case, she’d never forgive herself. She’d promised Alice, and Madison never went back on her word.

  The people that had been at Mr. Bailey’s house the other day must have left, because there was only a lone horse in the stable and one small carriage. Only two windows had lights—one downstairs, and one upstairs. Her instincts told her Rosie was in this house, and most certainly, in one of those rooms.

  Cameron’s lack of belief still left a bitter sting in her heart, especially because of all she’d helped him with. After she’d sulked and cried for most of yesterday, Madison finally decided she was going to prove to Cameron—and the Metropolitan Police—that she could solve cases. She would find Rosie, and God willing, she would find the person who killed Mr. Bailey, as an extra bonus.

  Madison didn’t need Cameron to tell her that he was embarrassed of her gift. Most people were. And yet, there for a while, he’d acted as though it hadn’t bothered him. He’d made her imagine—for a brief moment in time—that he was different from the other men she’d met throughout her life. Sadly, he wasn’t different at all. He was just more charming.

  She grumbled in irritation and tightened her fingers around the edges of her cloak as she shifted her stance. Madison would show that good for nothing Inspector Westland that she knew exactly what she saw in her visions. She’d make him eat his words. And she’d prove to those other police inspectors that she was not crazy.

  Her plan was to sneak inside the house and find Rosie. Of course, she had to be extremely quiet to pull this off. And, she needed to figure out a way inside. Perhaps the back door was the best way to get in.

  Another gust of wind blew through the trees, stinging her face. She gritted her teeth against the cool air and shuffled her feet again. What was wrong with these people? Couldn’t they retire for the night?