By Starlight

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Hooper,” Virginia answered. “But no, he’s already come. He ain’t gonna be back till mornin’.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to stay and watch over him.”

  No one disagreed with her; in the end, the only person to speak up against it was Jack. “You…​you don’t have…​to do that…,” he attempted to argue. “I said I’ll be…​I’ll be…”

  “I’m not leaving,” she replied firmly.

  Knowing that it was a fight he wasn’t going to win, as well as being in no condition to contest it, Jack nodded, laid back his head, and closed his eyes.

  “If he worsens, I’ll come get you,” Maddy said to the older woman.

  Seth and Mrs. Benoit stepped out into the hall. “Get some sleep, buddy,” Clayton said before pulling the door shut behind him, leaving Maddy and Jack alone.

  Moving to his bedside, Maddy looked down at Jack. The faint light of the lamp did little to chase away the shadows that filled the room; looking right at him, she couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed. The darkness also covered the bruising on his face, though she could still see that it was badly swollen. Regardless, she still found him handsome, as well as brave for standing up to Sumner.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  When the only response she heard was the sound of his measured breathing, Maddy understood that he’d already fallen asleep. Placing two fingers against her lips, she gave them a light kiss and then pressed them tenderly against his forehead.

  “Sleep well, my love,” she whispered.

  With that, Maddy let him be and tried to figure out just how she was going to rest in that beaten-down old chair.

  Maddy awoke with a start. For a panicked moment she had no idea where she was and had to struggle to calm the pounding of her heart. Blinking, she managed to crawl from the haze of sleep that enveloped her and looked around Jack’s hotel room. Nothing moved. She wondered if she hadn’t been woken by footsteps in the hall, maybe Mrs. Benoit was checking on them, but as Maddy continued to listen there wasn’t a sound to be heard. She was just about to chalk it up to a bad dream when someone spoke.

  “…going in that truck…”

  Maddy froze. The man’s voice hadn’t been loud but close, so close that it sounded as if he’d been in the same room as her. She was so frightened that she didn’t dare breathe.

  “…have to know…he puts it…”

  Though fear had sunk its claws into her deep, Maddy eased out of the chair in which she’d fitfully slept. She imagined that it was Jeffers and Sumner, wanting vengeance and come to take it. Slowly, she crept toward the door.

  “…only way…”

  Halfway there, she realized that the sound was coming from behind her.

  “…only way…save…Maddy…”

  As soon as she heard her name, Maddy understood what was happening. Moving to the side of the bed, she looked down to see Jack’s arms twitching, his face all screwed up as he mumbled in his sleep. While she watched, whatever was worrying him seemed to slowly pass, his expression softening, his movements relaxing until they eventually stopped as he again drifted off into a deep sleep, leaving Maddy to wonder what it was he’d been dreaming about, as well as why it had bothered him so.

  It’s just one more thing to add to the growing list of what I don’t know about Jack Rucker…

  Because of the way she’d woken, Maddy couldn’t imagine going back to sleep. With her mind once again reviewing the secrets Jack was keeping from her, she decided to search his room for clues. In her heart, Maddy knew that it was wrong, that she shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea, but the lure was too great. Looking back at Jack, seeing the swelling on his face, she began to convince herself that if she snooped through his things, if she found evidence that he was involved with the Mob like she believed, she’d be that much closer to saving him.

  I’ll just take a quick look.

  She pulled Jack’s suitcase out from beside the chair, but as soon as she picked it up she knew it was empty. When she popped the latches anyway, her suspicion was confirmed; he must have put away all of his things. Careful not to make too much noise, she began searching the dresser drawers. Each squeak made her cringe; the last thing she wanted was for Jack to wake and find her rifling through his belongings. In the third drawer, far in the back, neatly tucked away between the folds of a pair of pants, her hand touched something surprisingly solid. Working her fingers around it, she pulled it free and out into the bedroom’s faint light.

  It was a gun.

  Looking at it, Maddy first felt disbelief, then a sickening cramp in her stomach she struggled to put down. Other than in the movies, she’d never seen one before. Her father didn’t own one, and she was surprised by how big it was, by how heavy it felt in her hand. Her worst fears had been realized; what other reason could there be for Jack to have a gun than he was mixed up with organized crime? The truth repulsed her so violently that she wanted the gun out of her hand, back where she’d found it. Frantically, she jammed her hand back into the drawer’s depths, tears welling in her eyes.

  Why am I such a fool? How could I’ve ever thought Jack and I could have a future? Everyone else was right about him! My father, Helen, even Jeffers knew that he—

  Then, just as she’d put the gun back between the pleated folds of Jack’s pants, her hand had brushed up against something else that felt equally out of place among his clothes. Her heart hammering, Maddy grabbed hold of it and pulled it out.

  It was a wallet.

  Maddy desperately wanted to open it, but so far all her curiosity had brought her was more misery. Still…

  After that gun, how much worse could things get…?

  Taking a deep breath, Maddy opened the wallet. There, shining brightly even in the meager light of the hotel room, was a badge, on which was written four words:

  AGENT—BUREAU OF PROHIBITION

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  JACK WOKE SLOWLY from a hazy dream, its details already fading from memory, replaced by the dull roar echoing around his skull. Even with the curtains drawn, his room in the Belvedere seemed abnormally bright, as if the sun were streaming directly into his head. Moving a hand to shade his eyes only served to make him dizzier; the room momentarily lurched one direction and then the other. Touching the side of his face set off a burst of pain like fireworks lighting up the sky on the Fourth of July; it felt tender and puffy. He could only imagine how wrecked it looked. Flashbacks of the previous night surfaced in his memory: fighting with Sumner, being completely blindsided by Jeffers, Clayton and Seth helping him back to the hotel, and Maddy insisting on spending the night in his room.

  “Maddy…”

  Though it sent a pounding sliver of pain piercing throughout his aching head, Jack leaned up and looked around the room. It was empty. For a moment unsettling thoughts raced around his head; she’d been so insistent on getting him out of the speakeasy safely, worried about his being hurt, and brooking no argument against spending the night so she could watch over him that it seemed strange that she’d be gone now. Did Jeffers come while I slept? Jack knew he was being paranoid, she’d probably just gone to get something to eat, but it was worrying all the same.

  The inside of Jack’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, sticky like glue, so he rolled over to the bedside table in search of the glass of water he habitually kept there. The lamp had remained on all night and its light burned bright in his eyes. Closing them, he fumbled in darkness to find the switch and turn it off. Once it had been extinguished, he groped in search of the glass but was surprised when his hand found something else instead.

  “What in the…?”

  Cautiously, Jack opened his eyes. Squinting, he saw something that made his blood run cold and his stomach sink, as if he’d jumped off a cliff and was plummeting to the rocks below. It was his special wallet, open and folded in such a way that his badge, the one issued to him by the Bureau o
f Prohibition, was staring him in the face.

  Even with everything that had happened to him in the last day, as hectic as it had been, even after getting punched in the face by Jeffers, Jack knew that before he’d gone to the mercantile to meet Maddy, the last time he’d been in the room before last night, he’d placed his badge, along with his pistol, back in the dresser drawer, hidden in the back inside of a pair of pants. No matter what, he wouldn’t have left it lying out on his bedside table.

  So what was it doing there…?

  Jack already guessed the answer. Maddy had found it. For whatever reason, she’d gone through the dresser’s drawers and discovered his hiding place. Undoubtedly, she’d found the gun, too. She’d arranged his wallet so that, as soon as he woke up, he’d know that she’d learned his secret.

  “Damn it all,” he swore.

  Though it was agonizing, Jack rose from the bed and lurched over to the washbasin on the dresser, where he splashed his face with water, trying to clear the cobwebs. Not for the first time since he’d returned to Colton, he cursed himself for not telling Maddy the truth about what he’d become in the long years since he left. He’d had the best of intentions, had hoped that there would be a chance to confide in her, but things between them were far more complicated than he would have ever anticipated. No matter how much he wished it weren’t so, Maddy was involved in the illegal liquor operation he was duty-bound to destroy. Now his worry was that it was too late to fix their problem.

  Whipping open the dresser drawer, he retrieved his pistol, stuffed it into the waistband at his back, and snatched his badge off the nightstand. Catching a hurried glimpse of himself in the mirror, he cringed; he looked like hell. But it didn’t matter, not now. No matter what it took, he’d make things right. He’d find Maddy and explain himself.

  Out in the hallway, Jack’s head swam and his knees buckled, sending him crashing sideways into the wall. For a moment he worried he’d black out, but somehow, clawing against the plaster, he willed himself forward. He’d only managed a couple more steps when a voice shouted from behind a closed door.

  “Rucker!”

  Jack paused. His first instinct was to walk on and let Ross Hooper yell himself hoarse. Though Jack had agreed to keep his fellow agent updated on what he’d found out about their investigation, this was different. Right now, he had far more important things to do than report to a man he detested, a man who’d have no idea what he was going through.

  “Rucker! Get in here, damn it! Don’t leave me outta things!”

  He knew that talking to Ross would only complicate things further, so Jack pushed on, weaving down the hall.

  “You worthless son of a bitch!” Ross shouted behind him. “I’m gonna call Pluggett and tell him everythin’!”

  Even if the bedridden man went through with his threat, even if it cost Jack the career he’d painstakingly built, he was far past caring.

  Out in the Belvedere’s lobby, Jack stopped and stared out the windows. He’d thought it must be morning, surely no later than ten o’clock, but from the color of the sky, the western horizon streaked with purple and orange, he realized that much of the day had passed.

  “What’re you doin’ out of bed?”

  Jack turned to find Virginia Benoit coming out of the back room; from the way she looked at him, he knew she was honestly surprised to see him.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Almost six,” she replied. “You slept most of the day. I was worried ’bout you, thinkin’ you was hurt worse’n we thought, but when Doc Quayle came by, he checked and said there weren’t no reason to worry. You just needed your rest, is all.”

  If he’d slept for longer than fourteen hours, Jack knew that Jeffers must’ve rung his bell harder than he’d thought. But right then he wasn’t the least bit concerned with his own well-being. “Where’s Maddy?” he asked. “I remember her being there when I fell asleep, or did I imagine that?”

  Virginia shook her head. “She stayed with you through the night,” the older woman answered, “but she lit outta here so early the sun weren’t barely up. Hurried right past me and out the front door without a word. Seemed more’n a touch upset.”

  Jack knew she had every right to be. He might not have outright lied to her face, but he hadn’t been honest, either. If she was angered at discovering that he was a law officer, that he’d evaded her questions by spinning a web of half-truths, dodges, and feints, he’d earned her wrath. The only thing he could do now was give her the explanation she deserved.

  He was just about to the door when Mrs. Benoit spoke.

  “I may’ve gabbed more’n my share round town ’bout you bein’ back after so many years,” she said gravely, “but I give you my word I ain’t gonna say nothin’ ’bout what I seen in your room. Doc Quayle told me he’ll do the same.”

  Jack immediately understood that she and the doctor had seen his badge. If he was going to be able to wrap up what was left of his investigation, it was imperative that his real identity remain a secret, at least for a little while longer.

  “Thank you,” he answered.

  “Just promise me one thing,” Virginia said.

  “What’s that?”

  “When this whole thing’s over, you’ll tell me all the juicy details so’s I can be the one spreadin’ it round town.”

  “Deal,” he agreed.

  “Then you best get goin’. She’s waitin’ out there somewhere.”

  And that’s exactly what he did.

  Hurrying down Main Street, Jack tried to imagine what he might say to Maddy to make up for all he’d kept from her. Over and over again, he tried out the words, but every time he thought of something it sounded hollow, as if it wouldn’t do justice to how he felt. Eventually, he stopped trying; whatever he finally said to her would have to come from his heart.

  Because it was much later than he’d expected, most of the shops had closed for the day. When Jack arrived at the mercantile, its door was locked and the inside dark. Desperate, he knocked on the door, hoping to see a head poke out from the door to the storeroom, but everything remained quiet and still. Racing awkwardly around back, his head still splitting, he stumbled down the stairs to the cellar doors and found them similarly locked. Jack pounded on the door, understanding that he risked it being opened by Jeffers or Sumner, but his desperation to make amends with Maddy was great enough to take that risk. But there was still no answer.

  “Now what?” he muttered out loud.

  His first instinct was to walk the short distance to Maddy’s home; if she wasn’t still working at the mercantile, that was where she had to be. Even the prospect of confronting Silas Aldridge, a man who’d never made a secret of his contempt for his daughter’s suitor, who must have spent the last seven years secretly glad that Jack had left Colton the way he had, wasn’t enough to dissuade him. Even if Silas was as sick as Maddy claimed, Jack knew that the old man’s protectiveness would cause the fire to rage in his belly. Jack didn’t give a damn. After the years he’d spent convincing himself that he’d made the right decision in turning his back on Maddy, only to then discover how big a mistake he’d made, he understood what was at stake. For Maddy, for whatever chance they might have at a future together, he’d have walked through the gates of hell. After that, Silas didn’t seem all that daunting.

  But Jack had only taken a couple of steps before he stopped. Just like that, he knew he was wrong. After everything that had happened between them, after what Maddy had just learned, there was only one place she would go. It was where they’d always gone when things got rough.

  Our bridge…

  Even if she wasn’t there now, she soon would be. Jack headed there as fast as he could.

  Absently, Maddy kicked a stone with her foot and watched as it fell from the bridge, tumbling end over end from shadow into the fading light of the approaching dusk until it splashed into the slowly moving water of the river below. It disappeared from sight, swallowed up by surroundings that
were no longer familiar, going from the bright of day to the dark depths of the water in an instant.

  Maddy knew exactly what that felt like.

  Until she had discovered Jack’s gun and the badge that declared him an agent of the Bureau of Prohibition, she’d thought that he’d somehow become involved with the Mob and had been determined to save him. She couldn’t possibly have been more wrong. Over and over, she’d replayed whatever she remembered of their conversations, sifting through every word, every gesture he’d made, every smile and frown, all in the hopes that she could find something that she should have recognized, something that might have given him away. But there was nothing. Once again, Jack had lied to her face.

  And once again, I’m the biggest fool in Colton.

  She’d left Jack’s room in the Belvedere around dawn, after she’d placed his badge on the nightstand where she was sure he’d see it when he woke. Her trembling fingers had nearly dropped it on the floor. Ever since she’d found it and the gun, her head had been spinning. She’d walked past Virginia Benoit without a word and kept right on going, up one side of town and then back the other way, trying to comprehend what she’d learned. She was glad that Helen was supposed to open the mercantile that morning and she’d had no other responsibilities needing her attention. Occasionally, she wondered how Jack was feeling, if his aches at Jeffers’s hands had lessened, but it took only a second for her anger to flare. Eventually, she’d made her way to the bridge.

  If he wakes up, he’ll come here. Then I’ll demand he tell me everything, no lies, no avoiding my questions, no—

  “Maddy…”

  Looking up from the water, she found Jack standing at the end of the bridge. Brilliant sunlight bathed him, the setting sun’s orange glare painting his face, interrupted only by the gentle breeze that lazily blew through the tree branches, their leaves creating shadows that danced over his skin. Even from where she stood, Maddy could see the bruising on the side of his face; dark and swollen, it undoubtedly caused him pain, but his eyes showed no sign of it, watching her steadily. Sweat ringed the open collar of his shirt and glistened on his forearms; he must’ve run to her.