That was true, but Alex didn’t think it bore stating at this moment.
He mounted the horse and dug his heels in, heading across the lands wildly, somehow barely hearing the pounding of horse hooves over the sound of his own heartbeat.
It was steady, to his surprise, and not frantic but for a faint edge that pained him at times. He ought to have been utterly terrified for Poppy, panicked to a worrying degree and filled with guilt. Yet there was a calm that had settled on him, an intense focus that he wouldn’t pretend to understand at this moment, but he greeted it as he would an old friend.
Excitement filled him with every beat of his heart, though it was hardly something he was pleased with. He was livid beyond belief, and his lungs burned with fear, only he was not paralyzed by either of them. Rather, he felt driven. Shoved forward into the fray before him, oddly confident and determined about his course. What exactly the course was seemed to be less certain, but it would come to him, he was sure. At the moment, he only needed answers. Answers provided direction, and direction was all he needed.
He slid off the horse once the cottage was before him, racing towards the building only to stop himself, and slowly pace backwards, eyes on the ground.
There was only one way to the cottage from the main road unless one crossed the lands as he had just done, but it wasn’t a structure of any significance. It would not stand out to anyone unfamiliar with its position in the countryside. From the wrong side of things, it could easily be missed.
But someone coming from the village with the intent of taking her would have brought something to transport her with, even if it were a cart or a horse. There ought to be evidence of whatever method they had chosen, but whether they would be able to discern that from the marks of their own carts and horses would be more difficult to predict.
He scanned the ground back and forth, his eyes grazing over the details that only days before had been invisible and insignificant. Poppy usually went on foot back and forth to the village, and Stanton’s horse doubled as the farm horse, which wasn’t necessarily designed for travel or excursions, even if Stanton had been inclined. No recent signs of a cart or wagon, not much to indicate horses or excessive foot traffic.
Had it been a single man, then? It would have been easy to take Poppy unawares in this small cottage, particularly after her trip down to his lands at Parkerton. She was untrained and unsuspecting, so there would be absolutely no wariness in her manner about anything, let alone entering her own house, but she would have noticed a cart or wagon, an unfamiliar horse, surely.
Alex hummed to himself, then glanced over at the barn in thought.
To truly be hidden, there would need to be a place to hide. What better than a shelter already provided? Alex had hidden in a barn or two himself on his escape, so why should they not do the same?
He strode over to the barn, eyes moving swiftly across the shelter and the entrance, looking for the slightest sign of disruption or bit of evidence. The interior looked as neat and tidy as it ever had, hardly a piece of straw out of place on the barn floor. Their harvest remained untouched in the corner, the cart was in its usual place, and the horses’ stalls seemed to be nearly pristine.
Except…
Alex paused at the spare stall, cocking his head as he examined it more carefully. Something was odd in this space. Something prodded at the edges of his mind, and his eyes raked the area with thoroughness and focus to find the problem.
“Ah ha,” Alex murmured to himself with a smile as he found it. He stooped to the ground and ran his fingers over the surface, skimming over the straw, brushing some aside to reveal what lay beneath.
Oats.
Stanton kept the barn almost spotless, and he took great care not to waste any of the feed, let alone to let it remain on the floor.
Oats in the spare stall? Not bloody likely.
“Someone’s horse got hungry while he waited,” Alex grunted, kicking the straw back over the mess as the intruder must have done. It hid everything quite well and might have worked for an untrained eye.
Alex had no such eye.
But how would the man have hauled an unconscious Poppy on a horse in the middle of the day without raising suspicion? Riding away from Moulton would have been easy enough, but there were others about on the road at any given time. She would have had to be unconscious if there were to be any true escape. Poppy would have screamed herself to high heaven before being carried off, if she could have done.
Echoes of the screams he’d heard in his dreams resounded in his ears, and he swallowed hard, his newfound composure cracking for the first time. Those screams he had heard without cause, borne of his deepest fears and darkest memories, and now…
He shook his head swiftly, turning from the barn to return to the cottage. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the emotional and personal ramifications of this right now. There was far too much at stake and too much to do to waste time there.
He needed all his mental faculties now, rusty and dull though they might have been. Yet now, they seemed to be fully functioning, which was a blessed relief. Poppy deserved everything he could give her. Knowing now that there was far more to offer in these circumstances made all the difference.
Gabe rode up just as he reached the cottage, and Alex nodded at him in greeting.
“Weaver’s sent off word, and he’s riding over to Chester to meet up with a contact of his own. He’ll meet us at Parkerton tonight, unless we’ve already got things figured and settled.” Gabe dismounted and patted his horse, who began grazing beside Alex’s. “What do you know?”
“Not much.” Alex shook his head. “Haven’t gone inside yet. Thought I ought to see the barn first.”
“And?”
He grinned at his cousin. “Someone used the spare stall. The horse stole some oats.”
Gabe smirked at that, his eyes glinting.
“Nothing taken? Cart, blankets…?”
“Not a thing,” Alex told him. “Everything else is perfect.”
“Hmm,” Gabe mused, folding his arms in thought. “One man, one horse, middle of the day? That’s odd.”
“Atypical, certainly,” Alex allowed, nodding and looking up towards the main road. “Cart waiting, you think?”
“Undoubtedly,” Gabe replied, nodding slowly, “though I suspect it would be a bit of a distance out. A waiting cart by the head of the lane on the main road would give rise to comment from the doting neighbors.”
Alex gave Gabe a sidelong look.
“We may have to question those doting neighbors eventually, if our contacts don’t give us enough to go on.”
“And alert them all to her disappearance?” Gabe scoffed a loud laugh. “Poppy would never forgive us for that, even if it did aid in her recovery.” He inclined his head towards the cottage, giving Alex a meaningful look.
That was true, at least. It was difficult enough for Poppy to live in this place with all that had passed, but if word got out of her kidnapping and disappearance? It would make things even worse than before. But that, too, would do better to wait until they knew more.
Alex moved to the door and opened it, looking at the locking mechanism. It wasn’t obviously broken or disturbed, and the wood around it was still perfectly intact. He’d rather expected that, or Poppy would have noticed.
He and Gabe entered, then turned to face the door as one, watching the mechanism at work. It seemed perfectly in place, but completely failed to latch.
“Why go to the trouble of dismantling the entire thing?” Alex wondered aloud. “Why not just pick the lock? It isn’t complicated.”
“No skills, perhaps?” Gabe proposed, eyeing the mechanism carefully. “It would only have been the work of a minute, anyone trained could have done it. Even trained on the streets.”
Alex nodded in thought, his eyes shifting to the corner of the room, perfectly hidden by the door when it opened.
“So, this hired hand, untrained as he was, dismantles the lock
that he cannot pick, then tucks himself in that corner, and waits.”
Gabe stepped forward, putting himself into the corner, looking at the floor. “Fresh marks, no doubt from the muck of the barn or just outside.” He turned, glancing out of the window beside him. “They’d have had to watch the house. To know when Poppy was gone and when would be safe to sneak in. I doubt they knew much of the layout of the house coming in, I can see the hesitation marks on the floor.”
Alex saw them as well, and he nodded, looking around the kitchen.
“Poppy would have come in and gone straight for the fire…” He moved there himself, imagining every step she took and taking it himself. “She’d have wanted to take the stew off, or check it, at least.”
He eyed the pot, now safely free of the fire, but dried streams of the liquid had hardened and crusted on the outside. “Stanton said it was boiling over, yes?”
“He did.”
Alex moved the pot back into position in the fire, stepping back. “So, she either checked it and set it back, or did not check it. And the bread…” He glanced over at the table where the two loaves sat unbaked beneath a light cloth.
“Just as we left it,” Gabe reported from his spot. “I think we can safely say that she was not here long after seeing us. So, back to the door with you and come in…”
Alex complied, and Gabe silently moved up behind him.
“Easy enough,” Alex murmured. “But how to take her…” He glanced around the kitchen quickly. “No signs of distress, the table and chairs in their place, nothing…”
“Alex.”
He paused at Gabe’s tone and glanced over his shoulder at his cousin.
Gabe was looking down at the floor, brow furrowed.
Alex looked, then crouched at once.
“Blood,” he grunted unnecessarily.
“Not much, though,” Gabe added. “A few drops. So, did she hit him, or did he hit her?”
It was impossible to tell, impossible to know, and truly it couldn’t have been especially important to the situation. A large amount of blood, yes, but a few drops? That told them absolutely nothing.
“No one heard anything,” Alex murmured, staring at the blood as though it were crucial. “They gagged her, no doubt. Or she was unconscious first.”
“Just another sign of ignorance,” Gabe grunted. “No need to gag if they are unconscious.”
Alex rose and glared at his cousin. “Thank you for that, Gabe.”
Gabe looked surprised and held up his hands in surrender.
“I’m only trying to give scope to our villain. I’m as ready to cut off the man’s head as anyone for taking Poppy, surely you know that.”
That was true, and he knew it well. They all loved Poppy and would go to extraordinary lengths to save her, though they knew nothing about the situation at present. It wasn’t that Alex doubted Gabe’s love for her. It was only that he loved her better.
“Right,” Alex said at once, striding for the door. “Back to Parkerton. Hopefully our contacts and assets can give us more to go on.”
Gabe nodded and followed him out, and silently, they rode on to Parkerton, the severity of the situation seeming to weigh down on them both.
Who would want Poppy? She owed nothing to anyone, and she had been quite proud of the fact. She had no enemies and worked studiously to be a friend to all. She had no fortune from her family, or herself, and there was nothing to be gained by taking her.
Had her family decided to take a more drastic approach by removing her from her situation? It hardly seemed likely, and certainly never in a way to draw blood.
Then again, her mother might have been that desperate. She’d hated Alex beyond anything. It was entirely possible that…
No, now he was being ridiculous and impractical. The most likely case was that it was not about Poppy at all. Chances were, in fact, that Alex himself was entirely to blame.
How, where, and why were less clear, but when one engaged in such dangerous work as he had done, it was really the most probable conclusion. Poppy had never done a sinful deed in her life and had no cause to be caught up in this.
What had Alex done? How had they known about Poppy? How determined were they about any of this?
“Stop.”
Alex looked over at his cousin, sensing he was not instructing him in the procession of their return to Parkerton.
“Stop what?”
“We don’t know what’s going on here,” Gabe said, keeping his expression clear as he rode. “We don’t know it’s your fault, her fault, my fault, or Stanton’s fault. We don’t know anything but that she is gone, and until we have information, there’s no point in pretending blame or reason can be set.”
Alex stared at Gabe for a long moment, then growled an exhale as he returned his attention to the ride before him.
“It’s very unnerving when you do that.”
“Don’t be so easy to read, and it wouldn’t be.”
“Apologies,” Alex muttered. “Out of practice.”
Gabe chuckled and pushed his horse harder.
“We’ll have information soon, and then we can act. Be patient.”
“Patient,” Alex repeated. “No, I don’t think I know that one.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and lifted his chin.
“Looks like we have one already.”
Up ahead, one of the older contacts from Alex’s early days in the League stood outside of Parkerton, hat in hand.
Alex pushed on ahead, scrambling off the horse when he arrived.
“Abel, pleased to see you again.”
Abel nodded in greeting, no hint of nerves but for the way his fingers fidgeted against his cap.
“Trace. Is that Rogue coming up behind you? I ain’t seen him since Lord knows when.”
“Abel,” Alex growled, “you can greet Rogue and swap tales in a moment, but I need you to tell me what you have first.”
“ ’Course, Trace,” Abel replied eagerly. “Pleased to have ye alive again, sir. And I ain’t got much, but there was a man in Moulton recently. Asking about a man at the dance at the assembly rooms. Asking very keenly, he was, and not politely. I wouldn’t have thought of it, but the name he wanted was Turner, sir. And tha’s one of yours, I recall.”
Mr. Turner. That was one of his, and it was the most dangerous one he’d had. Why the hell had he used it again?
Alex swallowed with difficulty and looked at Gabe, who had heard the last and looked horrified.
“Well, Rogue, can we blame me now?”
Chapter Nineteen
There wasn’t much that was more satisfying than riding a horse as it pounded furiously against the ground in pursuit of something, particularly when one was to be the victor in the matter. Even if danger, death, and destruction lay ahead, the ride into it all was exhilarating. The fact that this ride was going all the way to Liverpool didn’t lessen that fact, but it was rather hard to maintain it for such an extensive amount of time.
The last twenty-four hours had been filled with answers and questions, questions and answers, and now they were riding like mad for Liverpool, where their best chance of finding Poppy lay, by all accounts.
The night had been filled with reports from assets and contacts, some useful and some not, but every one of them had reiterated what Abel had said initially. Mr. Turner was the key to everything, it seemed, and the cottage had been under watch for weeks, as had the entire village. There was money to be given to those that would report anything they knew about Mr. Turner, and any of the neighbors could have done so at any time.
There was no way to tell who might have told what, or if anyone had said anything at all, but the idea of such a request being made…
Well, Alex had felt guilty before, but it was far worse now.
He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it while they were still receiving new information from their contacts, what with Gabe analyzing everything as it came and keeping Alex’s focus on the investigation. It was undoubte
dly for the best that he focused while he could, and while there was so much to take in.
Now that they had a destination, however, he could feel the guilt all he liked. In a few short hours, he would have to return his mind to the facts of the case, to securing Poppy’s release, and to seeing this wretched thing through to the end, whatever end that happened to be. He would, no doubt, face the evils that had been his entire existence for four and a half years, and possibly even the faces it bore.
He wasn’t entirely prepared for that, but there was no way to prepare for such a thing. Yet for Poppy, he would face it. He would do whatever needed to be done at the risk of his own life, sanity, health, and anything else to see her freed from the men he knew had her. Or would have her, at any rate.
He doubted the men themselves had come for her or done any of the work to get her. They never did any of the baser work, finding it too menial for their status, which was an irony in itself, as there was no status in their title or lives to speak of.
They were, however, capable of quite a deal of evil, as he himself was proof. If Poppy fell into their hands, there was no telling what might happen.
The contacts had been surprisingly filled with insight about what had gone on, each of them adding where the others lacked, until a fairly reliable picture had presented itself. Someone had been watching the cottage and the farm carefully, and for some time, and then today, a man was seen riding away from the village on horseback, a woman in his grasp, though it was hard to say the condition she had been in. At the edge of town, the man and horse had met a cart, deposited the woman into it, and they’d continued out of Moulton towards Northwich.
And according to the contacts of his contacts, that cart was headed for Liverpool.
It made perfect sense to Alex, considering that had been where he himself had been bound when he was still Torchon, and the Cardieus, the esteemed employers of his smuggling associates, had recently moved their headquarters to Liverpool to remove the suspicion of London from their business.
The only question was if the Cardieus had Poppy on behalf of Battier, or of their foreman, Mainsley, who, as a proud member of the French Faction, was allowed to do as he pleased within their employment for that particular cause.
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