Her small valise sat in the corner of the room, and she grabbed it. Within minutes she had stuffed three dresses inside. She opened the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out a nightgown. She was just closing the bag when Roger’s quiet voice interrupted her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She turned to face the door, and a shiver raced up her spine. He leaned against the doorjamb, his body filling the opening. He held a small object in his right hand, and he repeatedly flipped it in the air and caught it again.
Sarah’s heart pounded like a drum at his imposing figure. “I’m packing. I told you I was leaving.”
Roger’s cool stare bored into her and sent an icy surge through her veins. She stepped to the far side of her bed to put some distance between them. He flipped the object one more time and straightened before he walked closer. “You’re not going anywhere, Sarah. Not until I say you can.”
Fear radiated through her, and she swallowed. “Roger, please. Let’s not argue. I just want to go.”
He shook his head. “But you can’t. I’ve done too much because of you.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
He sighed and stepped closer. “Oh Sarah, I thought you were the most beautiful child I’d ever seen, but I waited until you were eighteen before I let anyone know how much I cared for you. Aunt Edna said I should ask your father’s permission to call on you. And I did. Right after you graduated from our school.”
Sarah’s stomach roiled, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I—I didn’t know. He never said anything.”
“I know. He didn’t like the idea at all. Called me all kinds of names and accused me of having designs on you while you were a student at our school. He warned me to stay away from you or he would let other parents know they should watch their children around me. Well, you can imagine how upset I was.”
Sarah nodded in an attempt to appease him. “Yes. I wish I had known. I would have assured my father you’d never done anything except to encourage me in my studies.”
He smiled. “I knew you would understand. That’s why I decided I had to get him out of the way.”
Sarah could do nothing but stare at him. No. No! It couldn’t possibly be true. But as Roger flipped the object in his hand once more, she jammed her fist against her lips to keep from screaming as she recognized her father’s lucky piece.
She stepped farther away and stopped when her back touched the wall. Her breath came in bursts, and she bent forward to relieve the pain in her chest. “Why?” she screamed.
He ambled closer and held out the coin. “I called him at work and asked him to meet me that night at his office so I could apologize. When I got there, he was waiting for me, but I hadn’t come to apologize. I wanted him to know that I always get what I want, one way or the other. He was sitting at his desk, and I kept talking until I had maneuvered right behind him. Then I whipped out the small hammer I had hidden in my coat pocket, hit him in the head, and dumped him out the window before he recovered. He had been looking at that coin when I came in, and I took it. It really was quite easy.”
Sarah braced her back against the wall to keep from sliding to the floor. Roger’s words ran through her mind like they were on a flashing sign. Then another thought struck her. She’d been right. The killer took a souvenir.
She pressed her back against the wall. “Christine? Not her too.”
Roger stepped closer until he stood in front of her. “When you left with your mother, I nearly died. I was so angry with you for leaving. I tried to forget you, but I couldn’t.” His gaze raked her face, and he reached up to stroke her hair. “They were all blond, you know.”
“Who?” She flinched from his touch, but he leaned closer and kissed the top of her head.
He bent his head and whispered in her ear. “It was your fault I killed them. You left me, and now you’re doing it again. I can’t let you do that, Sarah.”
Sarah put her hands over her ears and shook her head. “I don’t want to hear any more. You’re sick, Roger. And I’ll tell the police what you’ve done.”
He drew back and stared down at her. “No, you won’t.”
Panic rose in Sarah as his facial expressions contorted into a mask of rage. She looked for an escape route, but he blocked her way. His lips curled downward, and his chest heaved. “It’s that farmer, isn’t it? You want to run back to him.”
Sarah forced her voice to speak. “No, it’s not Alex. I just want to leave.”
Roger clamped a hand around her throat. The chain of her mother’s locket dug into her neck. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Her palm cracked across his face, and his grip loosened. His stunned expression reflected surprise at her action. “You’re going to pay for what you did to my father and all those women.”
The words barely left Sarah’s mouth before his fist crashed into her jaw. Her head reeled from the punch, and she fought to remain conscious. Her body sagged against the wall, but he caught her before she hit the floor.
Through a painful haze she saw Roger’s fingers close around her locket, and the chain snapped. He hurled the necklace across the room, where it bounced off the wall.
“My locket!”
Roger’s body shook with rage. “I’m sick of seeing you wear that cheap piece of jewelry.”
“It’s all I have left of my parents. Give it to me!”
Roger’s eyes burned with rage. “No!” He raised his hand again.
Sarah threw her hands in front of her face to deflect further blows, but Roger grabbed both of her hands with one of his and held them in a grip like a vise. With his free hand he slapped her repeatedly across the face.
Blood poured into her mouth, and she struggled to free herself from his hold. He pushed her toward the bed, his body pressed to her. The more she fought, the tighter his hands held her prisoner.
Between blows she screamed at him. “Roger, have you gone mad? Why are you doing this?”
Through her blurred vision, she looked into his crazed eyes. She toppled onto the bed, and he fell on her. “You’re no better than the others.” His voice sounded like the snarl of a wild animal.
His weight pinned her to the bed, and understanding dawned on Sarah. She fought like a caged animal, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs, as his free hand fumbled at the opening of her dress.
Roger abandoned his efforts with the unyielding buttons and grabbed the front of her dress. He muttered and yanked the material. A swishing sound split the air, and his head jerked toward the side. A choking sound escaped his lips.
His hands released her, and he toppled to the bed beside her. Sarah propped up on her elbows, her eyes wide in astonishment. Dora, with a frying pan in her hand, stood over her. Terror masked her face. “Did I kill him?”
Sarah felt for a pulse in his neck and shook her head. “No.”
Dora grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her into a sitting position. “Miss Sarah, are you all right?”
Her chest heaved, and she glanced down at Roger unconscious beside her. “Oh Dora, I thought you weren’t here. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Dora shook her head. “I was about to leave when I heard you and Mr. Roger in the parlor. I couldn’t tell what you was saying, but it sounded like you was real mad. I thought I’d better stay around for a while. I’m real glad I did.”
“So am I.” She pushed to her feet. “But we need something to tie him up with, and we need to call the police.”
Dora handed Sarah the frying pan. “There’s some rope in that shed out back. I’ll go get it. If he moves before I get back, hit him again.” Sarah’s hands shook, but she wrapped her fingers around the skillet.
“Hurry, Dora.”
Roger didn’t move until Dora returned, and within minutes they had him tied up and the police called. He had just begun to stir when the police arrived, and Sarah surrendered the frying pan to the first policeman in the door.
Then she collapsed in a chair and sobbed. Dora sat down beside her and hugged her. “Don’t cry, Miss Sarah. It’s all right now.”
But Sarah knew it wasn’t. She finally had the answer she’d wanted, but it changed nothing. Her father was gone and would never return. All she could do now was honor the promise she’d made years ago.
Chapter Twenty-One
For a week, Sarah had kept to herself in the room she and Dora shared at Cameron House. She couldn’t bear to face the others and see pity in their eyes. Dora kept telling her she had to give herself time to heal both physically and emotionally from her attack, but Sarah doubted if she would ever forget the feel of Roger’s hands ripping her dress open and his body pressing against hers. It made her shiver every time she thought of it.
The rustle of a skirt captured her attention, and she turned to see Dora enter the room. She stepped close, leaned over, and examined Sarah’s face. “It looks a heap better today. I reckon you’re gonna heal nicely.”
Sarah sat down on the cot and patted the mattress beside her. When Dora dropped down beside her, Sarah grasped her hand. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’ve been a loyal friend, and I’ll never forget it.”
Dora shook her head. “I ain’t done nothing special.”
“Yes, you have. You saved my life, and you’ve nursed me back to health.”
Dora grinned. “Well, I reckon I did do more than Mrs. Simpson did. I ain’t never seen anybody carry on like she did when she got back and heard that Mr. Thorne had been arrested. I thought she was gonna have a conniption.”
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “She was more worried about how she could survive without Roger’s money if he went to jail.”
“And it didn’t take her long to head back to Memphis.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “All I can say is good riddance. When I feel better, I’m going to the bank and have some of the money my parents left me transferred here. Then I’m going to look for a house for us.”
Dora’s eyes sparkled. “A house? You mean you’re gonna let me be a maid at your house?”
Sarah took Dora’s hand in hers. “No, you’ll not be my maid. We’ll live together as sisters, and we’ll take care of each other. After what we’ve been through, we have a bond for life.”
Tears spilled from Dora’s eyes. “Sisters? I ain’t never had no family, and you say we’re gonna be sisters. Why would you do something like that for me? I’m just a servant.”
Sarah bit down on her trembling lip as she remembered the faces of all the people who had helped when her mother was sick. Most of all she thought of the first one who had befriended her at a baseball game. “A person helped me a long time ago. She gave me the strength to face the dark days that lay ahead during my mother’s illness and death. In fact everybody in that little community did.”
Dora frowned and gazed at Sarah. “And you left to go back to Mrs. Simpson’s? Why?”
“I’ve often asked myself that, but the main reason was that I wanted to be a part of the suffrage movement. Besides, if I hadn’t left, I would never have met you. Now let’s have none of that crying. We’re facing a new life together. I have to put what’s happened behind me and move on. In fact, I’m going to begin right now.”
Sarah got up from the bed, took a deep breath, and stepped from their room. She closed the door behind her, then glanced around at the volunteers who all appeared engrossed in their assignment. No one noticed as she marched to Alice’s office. She knocked on the door and entered to find the leader engrossed in the morning paper. Alice looked up from the paper, and Sarah detected sorrow in her eyes.
“Are you reading the account of the latest arrests?”
Alice folded the paper and lay it aside. “Each day seems to bring a new threat, but you don’t need to worry about that now. How are you this morning?”
Sarah sat in the chair facing Alice’s desk and took a deep breath. “It’s going to take awhile for me to come to grips with what happened, but time will help.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Sarah sat up straighter. “I think I need to do something to get my mind off this ordeal. So I’d like to ask again when I’ll be able to join the picket line.”
Alice’s eyes grew wide. “Surely you’re not serious. You’ve just endured a horrible ordeal. You’re not ready for the picket line.”
Sarah shook her head. “Why not?”
Alice stared at her a moment before she got up and walked around her desk. She sat down in a chair next to Sarah and reached for her hand. “I’ve had my share of bad experiences in my life too, Sarah, but I’ve never endured what you did at the hands of Roger Thorne, a man you trusted. I can’t imagine how you must feel. I suspect, however, that you feel guilty for not seeing how evil he was and you think you have to make atonement for that. What you must come to understand is that none of this was your fault. You were deceived by a man who had no scruples and was determined to get his way. I shudder to think what might have happened to you if Dora hadn’t been there.”
“So do I, but I still think I’m ready to—”
Alice raised a hand to interrupt her. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me or anyone else here at Cameron House. I knew from the very beginning you were dedicated to the suffrage movement, but you needed some time before you faced the hecklers at the picket line. Now it’s become even more dangerous.”
Sarah lifted her chin and stared at Alice. Tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “I’ve faced evil, Miss Paul. I don’t think anything could be worse than that.”
Alice squeezed her hand, sighed, and pushed to her feet. “You have no idea how much worse things could get with us, Sarah. The picket line becomes more dangerous each day, and more of our volunteers are being arrested. Those who take on the task must be prepared to be arrested. Right now the sentences are running two or three days, but I predict that will be lengthened.”
“I’ve thought about that, but I feel like I need to join the other women.”
Alice stared at her for a few seconds. “You’re not going to give up until I let you have your way.” She exhaled a long breath. “All right. Give your face another week to heal, and then you can go.”
Sarah jumped up. “Thank you, Miss Paul. That should give me enough time to find a house for Dora and me.”
Alice held out a hand in caution. “Wait before you get a house. I think you and Dora should continue to stay here until we know what the next few weeks bring.”
A ripple of fear tightened Sarah’s chest. “You’re really concerned about the pickets, aren’t you?”
“The crowds are becoming more unruly each day, and the police do nothing. I fear for all our women out there, but we can’t give up now.” Alice picked up the newspaper from her desk and began to read the account of the arrests again. She glanced up at Sarah. “What more can we do?”
Sarah had no answer for her.
Alex was in the middle of dictating a letter when the phone on his desk rang. He reached for it, but Lydia’s hand grabbed it first. She smiled at him as she placed the receiver to her ear.
“Mr. Taylor’s office. May I help you?” She frowned and then handed the phone to him. “It’s long distance from Washington.”
His eyes grew wide, and he held the receiver to his chest before he spoke. “Thank you, Lydia. You can go back to your desk. We’ll finish this letter later.”
He waited until she had closed the door behind her before he spoke. “Hello.”
“Alex, this is Ben. In case you haven’t heard the news about your friend Miss Whittaker, I wanted to let you know.”
Alex’s fingers tightened on the phone. “Wh–what news?”
“It happened a week ago, but I just found out about it today. I really thought it would have been in the Memphis papers before now.”
Alex bounded to his feet. “Tell me what happened.”
Ben chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, it seems the
man who’s responsible for her being in Washington is being returned to Tennessee to face murder charges.”
Alex’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes grew wide as he struggled to make sense of what Ben was saying. Roger Thorne had tried to rape and kill Sarah? No. Not his sweet Sarah. He pulled the candlestick phone closer and tightened his hold around the shaft that ran from the base to the mouthpiece. His hand holding the receiver to his ear trembled.
“How is Sarah?” He struggled to contain the tears in his eyes.
“She’s fine from what I hear. She’s back at Cameron House with Alice Paul. But there’s more. Thorne also killed her father and several women in Memphis.”
“What?” The shouted word bounced off his office walls.
“The Memphis police searched Thorne’s home and found items that belonged to murdered women. Evidently he took a souvenir from each of his victims.”
Alex sat back down and covered his eyes with his hand. “How did you find out about this?” he groaned.
“I have a friend at the police department. He called me this morning and told me about it. The Memphis police arrived in Washington yesterday to take him back. At least your friend’s safe and not spending time with a killer.”
Alex swallowed hard before he asked the next question. “So, Sarah hadn’t married Thorne?”
“No. From what I heard, he became violent because she kept refusing to marry him.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ben, and let me know if anything else happens.”
“I will. But don’t forget I’m leaving on my honeymoon trip to Europe in a few days. I won’t be back until the middle of November. I’ll ask one of the other lawyers in the office to call you if anything new happens with your friend.”
“Have a great trip.”
Alex hung the receiver back on the phone’s hook and sat there thinking about his conversation. After a few minutes he pushed to his feet. He had to go to Washington and see for himself that Sarah was all right. He rushed toward his office door but stopped before he got halfway there. What was he thinking? If Sarah had needed him, she would have sent him word or would have come home. And then there was Larraine. What would he tell her?
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