The Spinster (Emerson Pass Historicals Book 2)

by Tess Thompson

  “Tell me who told you or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

  Black dots floated before my eyes. I would not die this way. The truth might buy me some time. “Phillip.”

  His eyes widened in shock. He loosened his hands from my neck. Before I could bring my own hands to massage the area he surely bruised, he smacked my cheek with the palm of his hand so hard that I fell to the floor, landing heavily on my left arm. I cried out as he yanked me up by my hair. Please, Fiona, do not come out here, I begged silently.

  “Phillip? How do you know him?”

  “He came here to bring me the letters I sent you,” I said. “And to tell me the truth about the man I thought I loved.”

  “Phillip Baker. The snake. I should’ve known. He used to listen to me read your letters and wish they were sent to him. Not that he could ever get a girl like you for real.”

  “Not true. He’s worth a thousand of you.”

  “How dare you. Do you have any idea of the kind of trash he is?” He knocked me to the floor once more, this time with a blow to the other side of my face.

  I cowered as he hovered over me. “Please, just leave me alone. Go find some other innocent who’ll believe your lies.”

  He fell onto his knees. “Where did he go? Phillip, where is he?”

  “How should I know?” Instinct told me to keep it to myself.

  He opened his mouth, then shut it, as if trying to think what to say next. “His father died in prison. Did you know that?”

  “That’s not true. His parents died of yellow fever.”

  He went still. “I wonder why you’d believe him and not me?” He spoke between gritted teeth. “After everything we went through. He lied to you about his father. Who knows what else?”

  “He didn’t lie. He would never lie to me.”

  His eyes narrowed into mean, snakelike slits. “For God’s sake, you’re in love with him? Aren’t you? I can hear it in your sickly sweet tone. The one you used to use only for me.”

  I tightened my lips together and jutted my chin out in a way I hoped looked more rebellious and courageous than I felt.

  He snapped his finger and thumb together. “Oh, I see now. He’s here in town, isn’t he? I should’ve figured. The moment he thought I was dead, he started making plans for how to win you over, starting with telling lies about me.”

  “Phillip doesn’t lie. He’s incapable. He didn’t plan to even tell me about your lies because he didn’t want to hurt me. But he couldn’t let me go on believing you were this wonderful man, so the truth spilled out of him.”

  Walter rolled his eyes. “Jesus, girl, I guess he figured you out as fast as I did.”

  “What does that mean?” I knew better than to engage with him, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “You’re gullible and easy to manipulate. The little princess who lived in her daddy’s tower all her life has no idea about what it’s like to have to scrape your way through. You’ve never had anything bad happen to you in your ivory tower. Which makes you the perfect target.”

  “Phillip will be here any minute. You should go.”

  “No. You’re coming with me.” He yanked me to my feet.

  “Why? What do you want from me?”

  “What I’ve always wanted, you stupid girl. Your money.” He lifted his jacket to reveal a pistol in a holster. “Be quiet and you won’t get hurt. If your rich daddy gives me what I want, I’ll let you go. You can marry sad little Phillip and live happily ever after.”

  “Where do you think we’re going in this weather?”

  That seemed to give him pause. “Someplace to hide you. I need to think.”

  He dragged me toward the back door. I prayed silently. Please, God, take care of Fiona. Don’t let her follow us. Wait for Phillip, Fiona. He’ll know what to do. With her keen musician hearing, she would have heard the entire conversation. I imagined her in the office frightened, likely hiding under the desk. She would be afraid for me but wouldn’t know what to do. What if she decided to chase after us? No. Stay put. Tell Phillip what you learned. It was better for her to be a quiet witness than confront this crazed man with a gun. I had an idea then. She needed to know Walter had a gun.

  “I’m not afraid of your gun,” I shouted.

  “You should be.”

  He tossed me out into the cold. I didn’t realize until the door shut behind me that I had no coat or hat. The snowstorm was in full force. I’d freeze in these temperatures without outerwear. I hoped he had a warm, dry place in which to keep me captive.

  Phillip

  I knew the moment I pulled around to the back of the library that something was wrong. Fiona was squatting near the back steps with her arms wrapped around her middle. The light that hung over the door illuminated her pale face as she lifted her gaze to the horses and me. “Phillip, Phillip, help.” She rose to her feet and ran toward me.

  I jumped from the sleigh. She stumbled into me, shaking and sobbing. I took hold of her shoulders. “What’s happened?” Hard, cold dread settled in my stomach. “Is it Josephine?”

  “Yes, he took her. A man. He was here and he took her.”

  “Who took her?”

  “Walter. Walter Green.”

  “Fiona, what are you saying? Walter’s dead.”

  The words spewed from her in a heated rush. Words I would never have expected. Words that terrified me. “No, he’s alive. He ran away from the war to Switzerland, but now he’s come for Jo. He said he’d lost his memory but it came back and that’s when he decided to find her again. When Jo said she didn’t want him anymore, he started yelling and I think he might have hit her because she cried out and now he’s taken off with her. He has a gun, Phillip.”

  “Where did they go?” I fought against a rising panic. Stay calm, I ordered myself. This is like the war. I must go to the place in my mind where my thoughts are disengaged from my actions. Be a soldier. Do what needs to be done. “Tell me everything you remember.” The snow fell in hard pellets, and the wind pushed into us. Josephine had said there were many different kinds of snow. This was the bad kind. A layer had settled on Fiona’s hat and coat.

  “I didn’t see where they went. They were already gone when I came out from the back. But there are tracks.” She pointed to two sets of footprints, quickly being covered with fresh snow. I could see them only as far as the light from the porch allowed.

  “They’re on foot?” I asked, as if it weren’t obvious. Where did he think they could get on foot? I released Fiona and we both followed the tracks as far as they went. They disappeared at the street, hidden in the slush made from sleigh blades and wagon wheels.

  “What does he want?” I asked, more to myself than Fiona. “Why would he come here after all this time?” Where had he been the past few years? How had he managed to fake his death? All these questions tumbled into my mind and out again to be replaced with the cold reality. He’d taken Jo, and I didn’t know where.

  “Money.” Fiona said this matter-of-factly. “That’s why he’s really here. He wants Papa to give him money.”

  I silently cursed. Of course that’s what he wanted. He’d not come for Jo out of some insane love but to save himself. My mind quickly worked out his motivations. I knew what he wanted and how he would have approached the situation. If he had indeed had amnesia, which I doubted, he would have quickly come to the conclusion that he needed money and that it was time to put his plan into action. But what had gone wrong that he came here?

  This would have been his last choice because of the location. He saw himself as a fancy man about town. A city dweller. However, the other women were probably already married. I remembered addresses from the eastern states on their envelopes. He would have chosen the easiest route first. If those women had rejected him for whatever reason, he would have had no choice but to come out here and try with Josephine. But he’d found her unwilling to fall for his lies now that she knew the truth. Once he’d discovered that, out of desperation, he would have gone
to his final move. Kidnap her for ransom. Would he hurt her if he didn’t get what he wanted? We’d both killed during the war. Would he see it as the same? A battle for a way of life?

  “Phillip, what do we do?” Fiona asked as she wiped under her eyes with the tips of her gloved fingers.

  “I’ve got to find them.” They couldn’t have gotten far. Emerson Pass was a small place. Given my reasoning, however, the best thing to do might be to return home and wait for his request. Again, he would do what was easiest.

  “Fiona, do you know how to get into your father’s office? I want to call home and tell them to come join us in the search.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we all have a key in case we ever get stuck in town during a blizzard. We can go now. It’s faster than driving back home.”

  We ran back to the sleigh. Willie and Oz whinnied upon our return, as if they, too, knew the urgency of the situation.

  The office was only a few blocks away. Both Fiona and I searched right and left as we drove down the main street of town, hoping for a hint of where he’d taken her. We passed the boardinghouse. “Do you think he would be staying there?” I asked. “Maybe he took her there.”

  “They would know Jo there,” Fiona said. “They’d know something wasn’t right if she was there with a stranger.”

  He’d have taken her someplace hidden. Like a barn or an empty attic. In this weather, they couldn’t have gotten far. Once I called the Barneses’ residence, I was going out to look for them.

  The moment I hung up from the phone call with Lord Barnes, I headed toward the door. “Fiona, stay here with the door locked until your father arrives. He’s coming in with Jasper, the twins, and Harley. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

  “Wait, take this.” Fiona picked up a kerosene lamp from the desk. “We keep this in case we ever lose our lights.” With quick movements, she removed the glass top and lit the cloth wick from a match she’d found in one of the drawers. “Please, be careful.”

  “I will. Now lock this door behind me and get the fire built up. I don’t want you cold.”

  The moment I walked into the blinding snowfall, I realized how foolish it would have been to go out without the lantern. Night had fallen, and visibility was terrible. The horses were still hitched to the sleigh and standing just outside the office door.

  However, I decided to stay on foot for my initial search. They had to be somewhere in town. There was no way they’d gotten far walking. But where were they? Think. Where would conniving Walter be inclined to go? Always the easiest way. He’d not have wanted to walk long in this ice, which fell now in slants and stung my cheeks. He would find a haven somewhere here in town.

  He had a gun. Would he threaten someone else with it and take over their house or shop? I scanned the street for lights. The shops were all dark. Everyone had gone home for Christmas Eve suppers.

  And then, what felt like a miracle happened. The festive bulbs hung over the pond turned on, filling the square with light. Fiona, I thought, clever little thing. The switch was located just outside Lord Barnes’s office. I should have thought of it myself.

  Feeling more confident now, I surveyed the other side of the street. A flicker of light came from the tailor’s shop window. Not the usual electric bulbs that lit the shop but more like a flicker from a candle’s wick. Upstairs, in the Olofsson family living quarters, the windows were dark. Why would the lights of their apartment be off this time of day? Isak had mentioned how his father often worked right up until suppertime, enjoying the quiet while Mrs. Olofsson prepared the meal upstairs.

  Had he been working when Walter walked in with Josephine? Mr. Olofsson wouldn’t have hesitated to invite them in, even if the shop was closed and she were accompanied by a stranger. He knew and trusted her. Once inside, had Walter pulled out his gun and forced them both upstairs? Did he have them all tied up? And were the boys home at the time? If so, did he have them too?

  They had to be there.

  I had no gun. Storming into the place without a weapon would be foolish. Lord Barnes and Harley would bring their pistols. Should I wait for them or barge into the place myself?

  “Phillip.” Someone whispered my name. I turned, searching for the origin. Isak crouched in the small alleyway between two buildings, hiding behind an empty barrel. He gestured for me to follow him.

  I hustled behind him through the alleyway to the back of the building. He’d either escaped or suspected, as I did, that not all was right at his parents’ shop and home.

  The moment we were out of the alley, he told me what he knew. “Both my parents were downstairs trying to finish a job before it got too late, and I’d offered to put supper together. I happened to be at the upstairs window when I saw a man escort Josephine into my father’s shop. He was trying to hide it, but I could see he had a gun at her back. The moment they disappeared inside, I heard a scuffle, like bodies thrown against a wall, and a man’s voice shouting. My brother’s not home, and I didn’t want to go down there only to be captured as well. I shut out the lights, hoping that would be a clue to anyone who knows we live above the shop, and came down the back stairs to the alley as quietly as I could. I ran to the sheriff’s office, but Lancaster wasn’t there. I tried the saloon, assuming he was there, but then remembered it’s not open because Pastor Lind pressured them to close for the holiday weekend. It’s like a ghost town here tonight. I was about to start running for the nearest house when I saw you.”

  “Lord Barnes, the twins, and Harley are headed into town. I called them from his office. Fiona had a key.” Realizing I was babbling, I took in a deep breath. As quickly as I could, I told him what Fiona had heard. “I don’t think he means to harm them, just to get money from Jo’s father.”

  Isak nodded. “With the weather like this and no one else open, what other choice did he have but to hold them all inside until he can get what he wants?”

  “Quinn and the rest of the girls are waiting at home to answer the phone in case he calls,” I said. “Where’s Viktor?”

  “I don’t know. He was supposed to be home an hour ago—he was working out at the mill today, and Roy usually drops him off on his way home.” He took off his cap and ran his hands through his hair. “I’d never seen that man before. I know everyone here.”

  “I know him. He’s supposed to be dead. That’s Walter Green.”

  “How is it possible?”

  “He somehow escaped France and went to Switzerland or somewhere. Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “What do we do? Wait for Lord Barnes?” Isak asked.

  Before I could answer, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the quiet night. Without thinking, I took off running through the alley until I reached the street, vaguely aware that Isak was behind me. Another shot rang out. When we reached the street, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Viktor, with Jo in his arms, stumbled through the door of the tailor’s shop. He had a gun in one large hand, poking out from under Jo’s skirt. Blood covered the front of her dress. Ice shot through me. Please, no. Not this. Please, God, no.

  I finally reached them. Through the open door, I saw directly into the shop. Mrs. Olofsson knelt over the prone, bloodied body of Walter Green. Mr. Olofsson ran out the door, shouting that he would get the doctor.

  Viktor dropped to his knees with Jo still in his arms. It was then I knew it was not Jo who had been hit but Viktor. He was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. His blood had spilled onto Jo’s dress.

  Viktor set Jo down, then slumped over onto the street and spread out lengthways as if he were simply taking a nap. I grabbed Jo and held her against my chest.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “Viktor saved us.”

  Isak sank to his knees beside his brother. “What happened? Viktor, talk to me. Are you all right?”

  Josephine knelt beside them. “He wrestled for the gun, and it went off…hitting him in his shoulder. But he was able to get the gun from Walter after that. Viktor shot him squarely in the chest.”<
br />
  From inside, Mrs. Olofsson said in a shaking voice, “He’s dead. The man’s dead.” She stumbled as she ran out to her sons. “Viktor, Viktor.” Tears ran down her face. “Do something, Isak.”

  Isak tore through the fabric of his brother’s shirt. The angry red wound bled profusely, but the hole was neat. I went down on my knees and lifted his shoulder. With my fingertips, I searched for the wound on the other side. It was there, thank God. “The bullet went through. This is good.”

  “You were so brave,” Jo said, stroking Viktor’s hair off his forehead. “You’re going to be all better. Your dad’s getting the doctor. He’ll be here soon.”

  Viktor groaned, but his eyes fluttered open. “Am I hurt?”

  “A little, but you’re going to be fine,” I said.

  “I don’t feel a thing,” Viktor said.

  “Liar,” Isak said.

  “Mrs. Olofsson, can you bring out some cotton fabric?” I asked. “Something to stop the bleeding. Two pieces.”

  She nodded and ran inside.

  Viktor’s face was as white as the snow. “I shot him, Isak. He had the gun on all of them. I was in the back but he didn’t know, so I sneaked in on him. Tackled him…and then…” He drifted off, closing his eyes.

  “He’s going into shock,” I said.

  Mrs. Olofsson handed me a strip of white fabric. As gently as I could, I pressed into the entrance and exit wounds. Poor Viktor moaned.

  “We should bring him inside,” I said. “Where it’s warm.”

  Isak and I each took a side and lifted him to his feet as Viktor groaned in pain.

  “I’ll get that bastard out of our way.” Josephine sprinted indoors. With both hands around his ankles, she dragged Walter out the door and onto the sidewalk. How she’d done that, I couldn’t say. Perhaps the heightened emotions had given her super strength.

  “I don’t want him near Viktor,” Jo said. “He’s trash who deserves to be out on the street.”

  “Here, bring my boy to the window seat,” Mrs. Olofsson said.