“He probably came here,” Lane growled. “To warn Burrows I’m looking for him.”
“No, he didn’t. He just went to the john. I saw him.” She patted the front of his suit coat. “You just stay hidden, let me do the talking.” The tweed of his jacket had her looking him up and down. “Take your coat off.”
“Why?”
“So you won’t stand out as much, and here—” She reached up with both hands and messed up his neatly combed hair. “There, now you’ll fit in better.”
He frowned at her, but took off his coat. “I won’t stand out carrying around a suit coat?” He looked her up and down. “It’s you who’s going to stand out in this joint.”
Flustered, she shook her head, but stopped shy of saying that women were meant to stand out. She pointed to the car that was only a few steps away. “Put your suit coat in the car.”
“Why don’t we just get in the car and—?”
“We’ve already had this discussion,” she said. “You need me to find Burrows.”
“No, I don’t.”
Her frustration was quickly growing. All this standing around and jawing wasn’t getting them anywhere. Lifting her chin, she said, “Yes, you do. We both know Henry is missing, and Burrows is behind it.” Henry was missing. He’d admitted that earlier, while being angry she’d talked to the man in the first joint.
Lane shoved a hand through his hair and spun around. He walked to the car, threw his coat inside and walked back. “Let’s go.”
A quiver of satisfaction made her grin.
“Don’t be fooled,” Lane said. “I’m only going along with you right now because I know you’ll come here on your own if I don’t.”
That was highly unlikely, but she wouldn’t tell him that. This was truly a downtrodden part of town, and without him at her side, she wouldn’t be here. Warehouses lined both sides of the dark alleyway, and, besides the smell and darkness, there were noises that had her quivering.
Sounds of people shouting, things clanging and banging, and foghorns blaring as ships floated in from long voyages, carrying various loads of cargo. This was where men went to never be seen again, had been for years, and years, and years.
He steered her between two huge buildings to a door on one of them that had a single lightbulb hanging down from a single board. The bulb flickered as it swayed in the wind blowing off the water and between the buildings.
She could hear the electricity lighting the bulb snap and sizzle overhead as Lane opened the door.
He looked inside before nudging her to cross over the threshold before him. Another single bulb hung overhead, and three doors led off the small area they’d stepped into.
“This one,” Lane said, opening the door on his left.
He took a hold of her hand and walked through the door first.
It wasn’t like any speakeasy she’d been in, not even the two-bit joints. Smoke lingering in the air was so thick, it created a gray haze that not even the overhead lights could penetrate. There was no music, but plenty of noise. Men, sailors, dockworkers and some whom she didn’t want to imagine what they did were talking, shouting at one another, in different languages. Above the hum of conversations, a fast click, click, click came from a big wheel spinning on one wall. The occupants were from around the world from the looks of them and their attire.
When the wheel stopped, shouts grew into a roar, both of elation and disappointment.
Gambling. This was a gambling house. A dice joint.
Other tables, where men were gathered around, playing cards and rolling dice, proved it.
She glanced up at Lane.
He shook his head, silently telling her to not say a word, and steered her toward the bar along the back wall. It was made of plank boards laid across the tops of several wooden barrels. There were no bar stools, no metal footrests.
A woman, with light-colored hair pressed into finger waves and wearing an orange dress that barely covered her breasts, stepped up to the other side of the plank. “This ain’t the place to bring her,” the woman told Lane.
Patsy shivered at the way the woman eyed her.
Lane slid his hand from the center of her back to the side of her waist and tugged her closer to his side. “We’re looking for someone,” he said.
The woman let out a hoarse laugh. “Ain’t we all?”
“A supplier,” Lane said. “For our establishment on the other side of town.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “I see.” She reached behind her and grabbed a bottle, then overturned a glass sitting on the bar. “Who you’re looking for isn’t here right now, but I’ll give you a sample.” She filled the glass from the bottle and then slid it across the bar.
Lane picked up the glass. Patsy wanted to stop him. The glass was far from clean, but he was already drinking the amber liquid.
He set the glass down. “Not bad. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
She shrugged. “Couple days. Leave me your information, I’ll send him your way.”
“Do you have a piece of paper?” Lane asked. “I need to get things ordered right away.”
A smile formed as the woman walked to one end of the bar. Returning with a pen and paper, she laid them in front of Lane. “He’ll be back no later than the day after tomorrow.”
Lane scribbled an address on the paper and handed it to the woman. “Thanks.”
The woman leaned over the bar. “You be careful leaving here. A skirt like that draws attention.”
Patsy’s insides quivered.
Lane nodded and then steered her toward the door. Patsy didn’t even consider protesting. This place was not somewhere she wanted to be, nor did she want to talk to anyone. She could feel eyes on her back and they made her skin crawl.
They were almost to the door when a gruff man stepped in front of them. His lips were pulled back into a sneer, showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. “How much?”
Lane stepped in between her and the man. “She’s not for sale.”
The man threw back his head and laughed. “Then I can have her for free.”
Before Patsy knew what was happening, Lane punched the man. Not once, but twice. As the man flew backward, onto a table, Lane grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.
Once out the second door, he said, “Run!”
Patsy didn’t need to be told twice. She took off like a full-grown bear was chasing her down. That man had been as tall as a bear, and his face held enough whiskers on it that he’d looked like one, too.
Lane was running beside her, holding her hand. “Is he following us?” she asked, afraid to turn around.
“I don’t know. Just keep running.”
She had no intention of slowing down, and didn’t until they were at the car.
Lane wrenched open the driver’s door. “Get in!”
Patsy jumped in and scooted across the seat before she twisted, looking behind Lane. “I see someone! Hurry!”
Lane started the car while he was climbing in, and shifted into Reverse while shutting the door.
The car spun around and the tires threw gravel into the air as Lane shifted into First and took off up the road. Patsy’s heart was pounding and she was gasping for air as she turned to look behind them.
“See anyone?” Lane asked.
“No, but I’m sure I did earlier.” It might have been her imagination; it was hard to tell. The place was scariest she’d ever seen.
“Hold on, and keep an eye out to see if anyone follows us.”
Clutching onto the back of the seat, she kept her eyes peeled out the back window as the car sped along, tires squealing as they rounded corners. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Good. Keep watching. If anyone is back there, we’ll lose them downtown.”
She kept an eye out, but didn’t see anyone following them, a
nd by the time Lane pulled the car off a road and parked, he’d taken so many turns and side roads, if anyone had been following them, they’d have long ago gotten lost.
“Where are we?” Patsy asked, flipping around to face forward.
“Lincoln Park,” he said.
She recognized the music first, and then spied the big carousel across the manicured grass. “Lincoln Park. I haven’t been here for years.” When they had been young, they used to come here and have picnics when her grandmother and aunt visited them.
He opened his car door, climbed out and then held out his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”
She scooted across the seat and climbed out the driver’s door. Even at this time of night, the park was full of people taking in the amusement rides, carnival foods and outlandish displays of men and creatures.
“Have you ever ridden in an ostrich cart?” he asked as they started walking through the grass.
“No, but I read the article you wrote about them in the newspaper. Are they as huge as they look?”
“Yes. Let’s rent one.”
She glanced around, back toward the car. “Are you sure we aren’t being followed?”
“Yes.”
“Who was that man?”
“One of many who work the docks.”
“You mean work at the docks,” she said.
“No, I mean work the docks. It’s a dangerous place.” His expression was serious. “People go missing all the time, never seen again. Not in this country.”
“Shanghaied?” That was another article that he’d written that she’d read.
“Yes.”
Bits and pieces of the article filtered through her mind, about young men and women who were believed to have been shanghaied. Underhandedly forced onto a ship bound for faraway shores and never seen again. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts, but still had to ask, “Why did that man ask how much?”
“They are willing to pay for specific people, especially young women.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “Now you know why I didn’t want to take you there, and why you can never go there on your own. No matter what. People have gone missing from the docks since it first became a port.”
She nodded. There was no chance of her ever going down there again. But she was interested to know if their trip had been useful. “What address did you give that woman?”
“One that doesn’t exist. It’s just an empty lot out by the ball park.”
“Will you go there, watch for Vincent Burrows?”
“No.”
“Why not? We could catch him and—”
Chapter Fifteen
Lane pressed a finger against Patsy’s lips. His heart was still in his throat over what could have happened back at that wharf rat hole. This whole thing had to come to a stop. He’d been saying that for days, but tonight had confirmed it. It had gotten too dangerous.
He was sure no one had followed them. Men like that goon were after easy targets and he doubted that anyone in that hole had ever driven a car, let alone owned one. His fast trip through town was to scare her from ever going back. “No,” he said.
She opened her mouth to speak, but his finger was still there.
“Vincent Burrows isn’t even in town,” he said. “The woman at the joint confirmed it.”
She eyed him skeptically.
Lane removed his finger and started walking again, having said all he was going to on that subject.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Wait to hear.”
“Wait to hear? Hear what? Hear from whom?”
“Henry. For all we know, Burrows could already be behind bars.” He highly doubted that, but hoped she believed it. The past couple of days he’d been trying to justify what he was doing. But there was no justification for this. For putting her in danger.
“Mr. Cox!”
He looked up to see George Martin waving at him from behind a small corral. “Hello, George,” he shouted in return. “Got a cart we can rent?”
“Rent?” George laughed. “For you, I give cart for free.” He then shouted to one of his seven sons in Spanish.
“Can I rent an ostrich to pull it?” Lane jokingly asked as he and Patsy arrived next to the corral.
George, a pudgy and very enterprising man whom he’d written an article about several months ago, laughed harder. “Bird free, too. You put my picture in newspaper, and people come, rent carts, give me much money. You ride for free. Always.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you, George.” He nodded at Patsy. “She has never ridden in an ostrich cart.”
“Very fun,” George said. “Very fun.” Waving them toward a gate in the corral, he continued, “You like very much.”
Patsy giggled. “I’m sure I will. I’ve wanted to ride one since reading Lane’s article.”
“Good man, Lane,” George said. “Good friend.”
Within minutes, one of George’s sons led two ostriches, pulling a cart with two massive wheels, out of the corral.
“Bee’s knees!” Patsy exclaimed. “Those birds are huge! Much bigger up close.”
“Yes, they are.” Lane climbed up into the seat and then helped her up beside him. “I have to warn you, the ride is a little bumpy.”
“I won’t mind!” she exclaimed while sitting down on the narrow seat.
Lane took the reins from George’s son, and waved at George. “Thank you!”
With little else to hang onto in the simple, two-wheeled cart built light enough for the birds to pull, Patsy wrapped her hands around his arm. “This is so exciting!”
He gave the reins a tiny flip, just as George had taught him while he’d been interviewing the man upon hearing a permit for ostrich rides had been given at the park during a city council meeting. It was an interesting attraction, and he’d learned more about ostriches than he’d ever need to know.
The birds started forward, in their surprisingly smooth gate. It was the cart that made things bumpy because of the long poles hitched to the sides of the birds.
Patsy’s laughter filled the air around them as they followed a pathway that wound around the park.
This was exactly why he’d driven to the park, so their last minutes together were fun. Memorable. He had to end the entire fiasco. Now. Henry was missing, and Burrows was behind it. He couldn’t chance that happening to her.
He couldn’t chance falling deeper in love with her, either. That’s what kept happening, day after day, and he needed to end it while he still could.
“I truly can’t believe how big these birds are,” Patsy said.
“Close to nine feet,” he said. “Their wings are too small for them to fly, but they do help them run faster. Up to forty miles an hour.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and like horses, they sleep standing up, often with their eyes open.”
“Ducky!” Hugging his arm, she said, “Tell me more about them.”
“Their eggs can weigh an average of four pounds, and upon hatching, the baby chicks are the size of a full-grown chicken.” He searched his mind for more information he’d learned while writing the article about George and his amazing birds, and told her that the eggs hatched within six weeks, that the birds lived for over fifty years and a few other things he remembered as they circled the park and headed back to George’s corral.
After returning the ostrich cart, he led her to the carousel, and stood next to her as she rode a painted horse. He memorized the smile on her face, the sound of her laughter, telling himself that would have to be enough for him.
When the ride ended, he bought a stick of cotton candy that they shared while walking back toward his car. There was a wrenching in his stomach, a sorrow, over what he had to do.
“I need to ask you something, Patsy.”
She look
ed up at him. “What is it?”
He had to be honest with her. Completely. “When my wife and daughter died, I blamed myself because I had been too busy working to take care of them like I should have. That’s why they went to San Diego. Naomi had been ill, with the flu, and went down there so her mother could help her with Sarah until she was feeling better.”
“You couldn’t have known the train would have been robbed,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, I didn’t know that, and I know it wasn’t my fault. I’ve accepted that over the years. I’ve accepted a lot of things over the years, some more recently than others. I loved Naomi, and Sarah, and will forever miss them, but they are gone, and nothing I can do will ever bring them back. That includes bringing Vincent Burrows to justice.”
“What are you saying, Lane?”
“That I’m going to wait until I hear from Henry, then I’ll write the story, and I have to ask you to do the same.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Are you telling me I’m off this case?”
“I’m not telling you. I’m asking you.” He was blundering this. Her father told her what to do and then, therefore, he had to ask her, let it be her decision. It’s what needed to be done, but the idea, the thought of not ever seeing her again, was gutting him. “Something could have happened to you tonight, at the docks. I don’t want another death on my conscience.”
“Lane, nothing—”
“Yes, it could, and I don’t want to live through that again.”
Her expression softened, and she stepped forward.
His heartbeat became a drumroll. It was pathetic, the way he wanted her, the way he craved everything about her. Fighting it had become the hardest thing he’d ever done.
“What are we going to do, then?”
“Call the whole thing off.”
She didn’t so much as blink before asking, “The engagement?”
“Yes. But I’ll give you time to write a few more articles. I’ll tell your father I’m going out of town for a short time. You can continue to write articles and send them to the newspaper. Then, when our week is up, I’ll come see your father.”
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