“So why did you kidnap me?”
“To right a wrong that you caused.”
Madison shook her head. “I fear you’re talking nonsense again, Mr. Langston. You must be completely foxed, either that or you’re always a confused idiot.”
He titled back his head and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’re hoping I’ll pass out from intoxication, but I’ll have you know I think better when I drink. And it’s rather nice to know I have the upper hand in this situation.”
Madison didn’t like how assured he acted. She somehow needed to take control. But the truth was, she was frightened out of her wits. Still, she mustn’t show it. He would certainly use that against her.
“Mr. Langston, why don’t you tell me what you want. I’ve grown rather tired of participating in your guessing game and I would like to go home.”
“I’m afraid, Miss Haywood, that you shall just have to get used to my games, because you’re not going anywhere until I get the money owed to me.”
“What money?” She narrowed her eyes on him. “Do you actually believe I owe you money? Because if so, you are more insane than I first thought.”
“If you hadn’t found Rosie, I would have gotten money from my cousin’s death. I would have been appointed to get his home, too.”
“But Gaynor is in jail for murdering Mr. Bailey. Wouldn’t you be the next heir to inherit?”
“I would have if you had not rescued Rosie.”
Confused, Madison shook her head. “I’m not understanding what she has to do with anything.”
“Because now the police are looking for me. They want to charge me with kidnapping.”
He, for certain, wasn’t thinking clearly. Obviously, the drink didn’t help him think at all. “And kidnapping me is going to help your cause? I assure you, it’s not.”
He took a step closer and glared. “Little do you know, this is not just a kidnapping. You are my way out of this mess.”
She shook her head. “I will not help you at all. You might as well turn yourself in because the longer you wait—”
“Will you be quiet?” he shouted as he rubbed his wrinkled forehead. “Turning myself in is not in the plan. Do you know what they do to men in jail...especially men who are my age?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s really none of my concern, however, I’m sure you will get your just reward for the crime committed.” She paused before asking, “So what is your plan?”
He produced a leery grin that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. She knew this wouldn’t be good.
“I’m certain a woman with your kind of talent will be worth a lot of money.”
What was he talking about this time? Unless... Her heart sank. “How do you know about that?”
“Gossip gets around town of the deranged woman who thinks she sees visions.”
Silently, she grumbled. I’m deranged, am I? She could certainly use this to her advantage, especially now.
“Sorry to tell you, but even the police don’t believe in me. How could I be worth any money if they all think I’m crazy?” She arched an eyebrow. “But then I suppose if people think I’m mad, I’m in good company with you. Am I not?”
His cocky leer disappeared quickly. He scowled and leapt toward her. She raised her hands to block her face from his attack. Growling, he grabbed her arms. His grip tightened and the determination in his eyes hardened. A gush of air escaped his mouth and blew into her face. How much alcohol had he consumed? Nevertheless, she must use this to her advantage.
She kicked as hard as she could, catching her foot right on his left hand. He hissed and backed away, clutching at his injury.
His glare pierced right through her. “You want to get rough, do you?”
“I don’t know what you want, Mr. Langston, but I will do everything in my power to keep you away from me.”
He cradled his left hand as he massaged a spot near his knuckles. She studied his reaction closely. It seemed his weak spot was his left hand. If she could concentrate on kicking him there, perhaps she would come out the victor and escape. Of course, she’d have to find a way to get out of these binds around her wrists.
As she stared at him, something seemed oddly familiar. Almost like this had happened before. Why did she think that? The way his eyes glared in a painful scowl... The way he held his sore hand, and the way his dark, chestnut hair hung in his eyes.
In a flash, her memory jumped back to the vision she’d had of the little girl and the boy who’d kidnapped her. When an older boy jumped out of nowhere and cut him, these were the eyes she’d seen and the way he cradled his hand.
Oh, no! This couldn’t possibly be... Could it?
“You kidnapped Rosie,” Madison spoke her thoughts aloud. “You kidnapped me.” She swallowed hard. “So could it be possible that you were the one who kidnapped Lord Hanover’s daughter all those years ago?”
Madison quickly assessed his age—or what age he appeared to be. He could possibly be in his late thirties. Would he have been sixteen years of age back then? Suddenly, she could see the boy from the past in the man he was today. Indeed, this was that boy!
His glassy eyes opened wide. “How do you know about her?”
“I saw you take her.”
“You saw me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you dolt. I have visions, remember?”
His fingers moved off his knuckles, and the scar she’d seen in her vision was plain as day. “Where is the girl?” she demanded. “What did you do with her?”
He took a step back and shook his head. “You have no proof. Besides, she ran away.”
A sigh of relief escaped Madison’s chest. At least the girl was able to get away, but then what really happened to her?
“I...I, um, tried to find her after Spencer cut my hand.” His fingers rubbed the scar again. “But she was gone. I searched for her for weeks, but couldn’t find her.”
The name of the other boy hit her and she gasped. “Spencer Watkins? Is his mother named Gretchen?”
“How do you know Spencer?”
Madison recalled reading Cameron’s father’s notes on the case, and the part when he questioned Gretchen’s family. The elder Mr. Westland described being suspicious of Spencer, but they had no proof. “Why did Spencer think you owed him money?” she wondered aloud.
He scowled. “Because I did.”
“So you wanted to kidnap the girl and seek a ransom, but then Spencer stopped you.”
Heath’s jaw hardened. “When I told him who the girl belonged to, we both tried to catch her because she broke free. Spencer thought he saw a woman in tattered clothing take the girl, but we couldn’t find her. It was like they had both disappeared.”
His gaze narrowed on her and he lunged forward again, grasping her wrists. “You know too much,” he snapped. “Perhaps you are worth more to me dead, rather than alive.”
TWENTY-TWO
Madison struggled to push him away. In his inebriated state, he smelled something fierce, and the closer he was to her, the more she wanted to regurgitate. But right now, she wanted him off her. He pressed against her, pinning her legs. She couldn’t kick at his sore hand as she’d wanted.
Did he really want her dead, or was this just something he muttered without thinking? Nevertheless, she must fight with all of her might. “Get off me,” she screamed. “You don’t want me dead, I assure you.”
He moved his face closer to hers, staring into her eyes. “I could’ve had that ransom, you know. If only I’d found that woman. You’re just like her,” he growled. “You take away things that aren’t yours.”
He shoved her, and her head hit the wall in back of her. Pain exploded inside of her skull. Closing her eyes, she fought against the throbbing. She wouldn’t let him win! She was tougher than that...and he was foxed, for heaven’s sake.
But for some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about the vision she’d had with the girl reaching out to touch the woman who wore the tattere
d dress. Suddenly, her mind opened up, and she saw it again, but this time there was more.
Crying out, the girl grasped the woman’s dress and fell against her. Startled, the woman whipped around.
“Please help me,” the little girl sobbed. “I’m lost.”
“Oh, my goodness!” The woman helped Madeline to her feet before pushing back the girl’s hair.
The woman’s eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were moist. “You’re lost?” The woman glanced up the street and then turned and looked the other way. “Where are your parents?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Madison could feel the fear still inside the girl. And, for some strange reason, she could read the girl’s mind, too. Madeline didn’t want to tell the woman about her father being Lord Hanover for fear she would want a ransom, just like the boy had.
“Well, come with me, dearie. I’ll help locate your parents.” She held her gloved hand out for Madeline to take. Bare fingers poked through the holes in the gloves, showing the woman’s dirty fingernails.
Hesitantly, Madeline slipped her hand into the woman’s. Fright beyond anything Madeline had ever experienced rushed through her. She felt as though her mother must be looking for her. She couldn’t be that far...could she? But nothing around her seemed familiar at all.
“M-my mother is buying a bonnet.”
“All right, dearie.”
The woman’s footsteps hurried faster than Madeline could keep up. She was nearly out of breath, but she couldn’t stop now. She must keep believing she’d see her mother any minute now.
The woman turned down a side street and hurried faster. Then she moved down another street. The buildings didn’t look as nice as the one where her mother was buying a bonnet. Tears gathered in Madeline’s eyes and she cried silently. Where was this woman taking her?
Soon, they entered a building. Immediately, a strong scent of alcohol choked her, reminding her of her grandpop when he had his daily glass of ale and smoked his pipe. Chairs and tables crowded the room. Men sat at the tables drinking.
The woman still holding Madeline’s hand rushed past them and toward a set of stairs. They headed up the rickety steps which led into a long hall. The woman quickly entered the second door on the right.
A man sat on the bed, reading a newspaper. His attention snapped to them. His eyes widened and he jumped to his feet.
“Who is this?” He pointed to Madeline.
“M-my name is Madeline Dixon.”
“She’s lost, Giles.” The woman’s voice broke as she wiped tears from her eyes. “I think we should help her. She might not be able to find her parents.”
The man frowned. “Agnes, what have you done?” He shook his head. “You cannot just find a child from off the streets and replace her with the one Heaven recently took from us.”
“But...she cannot find her parents.” The woman turned back and looked at Madeline with large, hopeful eyes as she brushed the hair out of Madeline’s face. “She will need someone to take care of her.”
Giles? Agnes?
Madison partially snapped out of her vision, and yet, she was still there looking through the little girl’s eyes, feeling and thinking everything Madeline was. Madison could feel the grime and dust in the room, walls, and drawers. She had tasted the fear on the girl’s tongue, and experienced the ache in her chest as her erratic heartbeat hammered against her ribs. This had never happened to Madison when she had a vision. And yet, the woman and man who were with the little girl were...
My aunt and uncle?
Mr. Langston’s alcohol-drenched stench brought her back to awareness. Her kidnapper was now standing in front of her with his arms folded across his chest, looking at her as if she’d grown two heads...and horns. But she couldn’t worry about him. She must figure out the confusing vision.
Or was it a vision at all?
It’s a memory!
She was the little girl!
Tears filled her eyes. After sixteen years, her mind finally opened to when she’d been six-years-old—nearly seven. Agnes and Giles had taken her into their home, which was far from Illford. They bade her to call them aunt and uncle, and within months, they never wanted to talk about Madeline’s parents because they were dead.
It didn’t take long before Agnes started consuming more ale, and when the woman called her name, instead of saying Madeline Dixon, her slur came out to sound like—Madison.
Gasping, Madison brought her hands to her mouth. Tears dripped down her face and onto her fingers. Her heart ached. Tension throbbed in her head.
How could she have blocked out that memory? And how could she have forgotten what her parents looked like? Had Agnes and Giles somehow washed her memory of her childhood?
She covered her hands over her face and sobbed. Her heart clenched, making it hard to breathe. She was cheated of the years that had been stolen from her. Madison’s heart cried out for the parents who had loved her unconditionally, only to end up with a couple who cared more about themselves than the girl they were supposed to care for.
Anger welled within her for all that had been taken from her. Madison’s life would have been so different if she hadn’t been kidnapped. She would have had parents who understood and accepted her gift. That was really all she’d ever wanted growing up.
Although she’d been robbed of that life, she also realized everything that had happened to her so far on life’s journey had made her the headstrong woman she was today. She was independent, mainly because she had to be by age ten. She spoke her mind, because that was the only way for people to hear her. And, most importantly, she would never allow anyone to take advantage of her ever again, thanks to the treatment that Agnes and Giles had given her.
Finally, Madison was able to focus clearly on her kidnapper who watched her through uncertain eyes. Although her wrists were tied, her feet were not. She was much stronger than this drunken idiot, and she would not let another greedy man alter her life ever again!
Now that he was off of her, she had more freedom with her feet. She didn’t waste any time. She kicked as hard as she could, connecting both feet with his mid-section. A gush of air escaped his throat as he crumbled to the ground, holding his waist. Gasping for breaths didn’t give him time to get to his feet, so she jumped off the cot. Since he was down, she might as well keep him there. She kicked him in the back, then in the face. Bones cracked where her booted foot connected to his nose. He yelped and tried to roll away, but she kept after him, kicking him anywhere she could.
A small knife rolled out of his coat pocket and slid across the floor. Quickly, she bent and grabbed it. She glanced at him to make sure he was going to stay down for a minute or two longer. Satisfied, she worked the handle of the knife in her mouth while slipping the blade between her wrists, cutting the rope. Remarkably enough, the blade was sharp enough to split her bindings, and the ropes fell away.
She held the knife toward him. “Looks like the table has turned, Mr. Langston. No longer the weakling, am I?”
Blood dripped from his nose as he clutched his middle and moaned. His white face was laced with pain. Pathetic creature!
“Are you going to blame me for ruining your plans...again?” she asked sarcastically. “After all, I ruined them before. But,” she tapped her finger on her chin, “then again, I hadn’t ruined them when you tried to kidnap me. Spencer did, correct?”
His brows creased and his moaning stopped. “Wh-what?”
“Yes, as luck would have it, I was the little girl you tried to kidnap all those years ago from Gretchen’s Millinery. But this time I will not run from you. I will stay and fight you until my last breath.”
Her heartbeat hammered crazily as energy flowed through her. Words came quickly to her mind, and wouldn’t stop for even a breath. She’d tell him exactly what was in her thoughts.
“You’re such an evil man. But I suspect you’ve always been that way.” She shook her head. “In fact, I’m inclined to believe you were the on
e who killed Mr. Bailey, not Gaynor.” She tilted her head as her mind flew with possibilities. “You had wanted Mr. Bailey’s house so badly that you took the chance when Inspector Westland arrested him for Rosie’s disappearance. You knew Mr. Bailey wouldn’t give you any money because he didn’t trust you. The only way to get anything from that particular cousin was to kill him...and make Gaynor take the fall for it. Once that happened, there would be no other choice but for the house to pass onto you.”
Unbelievable, but as she voiced her thoughts, they made sense. Gaynor wasn’t the killer. Heath was! And Heath knew his uncle wouldn’t give the place to him because he was the gambler in the family, the cousin who couldn’t take on responsibility.
Then a thought popped into her mind. If she was Lord Hanover’s daughter, then Heath was...her cousin! She groaned in distaste. She’d not claim him as family, that’s for sure!
“Tell me, Mr. Langston. What role did Miss Trent play in all of this? I’m assuming she knew that you had kidnapped Rosie. Why, I wonder. She couldn’t have possibly been in love with Gaynor.”
“She was,” he muttered a blood trickled out of his mouth and down his chin.
“Did she know you killed Mr. Bailey?”
“No.”
Slowly, color seeped back into his face as his evil gaze shot daggers at her. But she had the knife, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
“Ah, I see I’ve stumbled on another of your secrets.” She grinned. “Unfortunately, you won’t be able to keep this particular secret for long. As you know, I’m friends with a police inspector.”
More color rose in his face, starting at his neck and growing to his hairline. He shouted and dove toward her. The movement was so quick she didn’t have time to react. His fist knocked the knife out of her hand and then his fingers wrapped around her throat.
She lost her balance and stumbled backward. She managed to scream, but then her air was cut off. Panic consumed her. Why had she dropped the knife? She clawed at his fingers, trying to remove them from her neck. Suddenly, roles were switched again, and he was the stronger one.
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