She wiped her eyes again, sitting up straighter and speaking to Gabe. “He drove a single horse cab for his wife’s father until he could save up for his own. The last five, six years, Terry drove a four-horse hack, a fancy one with leather seats. Nights when the fog’s thick and business slow Terry would give me a ride home. He never wanted anything in exchange. Just took me to my door and went home to his wife and kids.”
He glanced at Jack and saw the same thought in his eyes. Neither one of them knew what to say to Mrs. Owens about how her husband died. “Knowing who he was is a big help, Ruby. We’ll be able to notify his family so they know what happened to him. Did Terry have a priest or a minister? It might help Mrs. Owens to have someone familiar there when she hears the news.”
“Father Joe, over at Saint Catherine’s.” Ruby clutched Gabe’s hand. “Terry’s name isn’t all I need to tell you. I saw a man drive off with Terry’s hack.”
“Are you sure, Ruby?” Gabe sat next to her, looking over the top of her head to meet Jack’s gaze on her other side. “Finding his body had to be a shock. I’m not sure anyone could tell one cab from another in the fog, especially after an experience like you had.”
Ruby yanked her hand back and scowled at him. “That’s an awful nice way of telling me I was out of my head and seeing things. Except I know what I saw. I didn’t imagine seeing someone drive off with Terry’s rig.”
“Gabe’s sorry.” Jack shook his head and put a finger to his lips when Gabe started to speak. “He didn’t mean it that way. The lieutenant just doesn’t know how to talk to a lady. Tell us what you saw.”
She sniffled and gave Jack a grateful look. “I chased the man I brought to the park out to the street. I was mad as blazes he left me here alone. He was dressed like a gentleman, but the coward refused to go looking for a policeman. I got to the bench here in time to see a strange man sitting in the driving seat of Terry’s cab. My customer scrambled inside and slammed the door closed. They drove straight off.”
“Thank you, Ruby. You’ve been very helpful.” Gabe’s headache came back twofold, joined by a cold knot in his stomach. Running after her customer to give him a piece of her mind and a whack or two sounded exactly like Ruby. His doubts about her state of mind spun away into the fog. “Answer one last question for me, then I’ll have a patrolman take you home. How did you know for certain the cab you saw belonged to Terry?”
“He had a yellow rose painted on the door and another on the back. For his wife. Rose is her name.” Ruby stared at the empty street, tears rolling down her face. “I didn’t make a mistake. That was Terry’s rig.”
Jack helped her to her feet. “Come on, Ruby. Let’s get you in a patrol car. Your ride home tonight is on the mayor’s tab.”
Gabe trailed behind them, the lump in his stomach growing colder. A dead cab driver and Ruby’s word about what she saw on a dark foggy night were all he had to hang theories on. He could hear his father’s voice lecturing him, repeating over and over that he should deal with facts, evidence. The only way to solve a case was to pile that proof up so high, no one questioned your conclusion.
His faith died with Victoria. Gabe hadn’t seen much point in praying since, but he prayed now, asking God to listen this once and for Ruby to be wrong about seeing someone else drive off with Terry’s rig. He desperately wanted the cab driver to be just a cab driver.
What he wanted didn’t silence the refrain in his head: I see you, but you won’t see me. Catch me if you can.
Delia
Shadow’s head hit the wagon bed with a sharp thump. The split in her lip opened wider, pain spiking down her jaw and blood dripping off her chin to cool under her cheek. She remembered that he’d hit her hard, knocking her to the ground and making her woozy.
Dust and the smell of fish and crab rushed at her from the splintered boards of the wagon, unsettling her stomach. Weighted nets, damp rope, and dirty buckets shared the back of the wagon with her, adding to the stench. She moaned, unable to stop the sound from rising into her throat or escaping. The stranger punched her again with a gloved fist. Pain spiked the side of her face, her cheekbone shattering with a grating sound and all Shadow remembered afterward was darkness.
She came to as the wagon stopped, struggling to get a breath under the heavy tarpaulin covering her. The wagon bed dipped under his weight. Shadow laid still and limp, drifting in and out of consciousness; too dizzy to lift her head or think of escape. Certain, too, that if she moved he’d keep hitting her until there was no chance of her moving again.
He tugged the tarpaulin away and grabbed her ankles, dragging her to the open wagon gate before tossing her over his shoulder. Pain woke with the movement, sharp but bearable. The mask was gone, but hanging head down so she couldn’t see his face, only the back of his coat. A laborer’s plain coat, smelling of pork sausage and sweat.
His boots clumped up muddy pine steps to a narrow porch. The building was a house, dark inside, the embers of a fire banked on the hearth and lamps unlit. Shadow caught glimpses of sturdy furniture in the main room, books piled on a table next to an armchair and photographs of a woman and young boy in oval frames.
The stranger moved quickly down a short hall and into a small bedroom. He kicked aside a rag rug next to the bed, grabbed the iron bedpost with his free hand, and slid the bed away from the wall. Shadow heard him grunt, the muscles in his back straining to hold her and lift. A trapdoor swung open at his feet. The hinges moved smoothly, well-oiled so as not to make noise. He took a lantern from atop a chest of drawers and stepped down into the opening.
Two deep steps and a third to the bottom, and he dumped her off his shoulder. She cried out, the excruciating pain in her face and jaw ripping down her neck and into her shoulder. Blood oozed from her swollen lip.
He struck a match and lantern light dazzled her eyes. The stranger grabbed her ankle and dragged Shadow through an open door and into a dirt-walled room under the house. Boards braced the walls. Timbers and joists, the foundation of the house and floors, made up the ceiling.
Shadow struggled not to pass out again, to kick at his knees, to claw his hands when he shifted his grip to her wrists. He yanked on her arms, dragging her to the far end of the dug-out space and the thick wooden post driven into the ground. Metal rings were bolted to two sides and pieces of hemp rope knotted around each ring. He jerked her arms over her head and began to tie her.
“No … please, no. I have a baby at home, he needs me.” She knew she shouldn’t beg when he smiled, a chipped front tooth gleaming in lantern light. “Don’t do this! Let me go home.”
Pleading was useless, he wouldn’t release her. Shadow’s heart thudded against her ribs, panic over being shut underground driving away dizziness and overcoming the sick pain in her head. She screamed, splitting her lip wider, and used all her strength to twist side to side to pull free. One arm slipped from his grip and she raked nails down the side of his face, leaving bloody scratches.
Pale blue eyes regarded her coldly, the absence of emotion terrifying her. He wrenched her arm up again, tying the rough hemp ropes so that they dug into her skin with the slightest movement. A dirty red bandana from his pocket was stuffed into her mouth and knotted tight behind her head.
The stranger tossed Shadow’s shoes and stockings into the corner near the door. He stood in the doorway for a moment, lantern in hand, and stared at her.
Calm eyes were the last she saw before he shut the door, taking the light with him.
* * *
I screamed, thrashing against bindings and shoving away the hands holding me down, panic a metallic taste coating my tongue. My only thought was escape, to find a way to win free. I didn’t want to die in the dark.
“Delia! Wake up now, sweetheart. Annie’s here. Wake up and talk to me.”
Trembling and gasping for breath, I opened my eyes. Light from the small lamp on my dressing table chased away images of crumbling dirt walls. I was in my bedroom, a prisoner of tangled sheets and coverle
ts, but safe, not locked underground.
Bursting into tears might not be the bravest response to waking from a nightmare, but I wasn’t the heroine of a dime novel. Sobbing seemed the only sane reaction. I don’t think I could have stopped myself from crying no matter how hard I tried.
Annie sat on my bed and gathered me into her arms, rocking me just as she had when I was sixteen. I’d had many a nightmare that first year I came to live with Esther and Sadie.
She saw my eyes were open and the sharp tone used to wake me left Annie’s voice. “You’re all right, darling. Nothing in a dream’s going to hurt you.”
Sadie stood just inside the doorway, wide-eyed and twisting the belt on her dressing gown around her fingers. She looked near as frightened as I was.
“I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” My hands shook badly, but with Annie’s help I struggled free of the sheets and dangled my feet off the side of the bed. The room was cold, raising gooseflesh on my skin. “Please, go back to bed, both of you. I’ll be fine.”
Annie pulled a cotton throw off the end of the bed and draped it over my shoulders. “I can sit with you until you’re ready to sleep. And don’t go fussing about being too grown-up for me to take care of you. Tell me about your dream and we’ll chase it out of your head, just like we used to do. Sadie, would you be a dear and fetch Delia a glass of water?”
Sadie was pale with exhaustion, bruised circles under her eyes calling into question how much sleep she’d gotten even before my scream brought her running. “Would you like anything else, Dee? I can bring up a snack, too, or even make tea.”
“Water is fine.” I tried to think up a wisecrack, a funny remark to chase some of the concern from her face. My wit had deserted me with my composure. “Once that’s done, please go back to bed. No reason for all of us to lose sleep.”
Esther tottered out of the darkened hall behind Sadie, a barefoot, white-haired apparition, wearing an over-large nightgown. She leaned heavily on a cane for support, her free hand trailing along the wall. Being whisper thin and weighing no more than a sigh didn’t rob Esther Larkin of determination. She wobbled to the center of my room and began to shout.
“Leave my house!” Esther flailed the air with her cane, coming close to toppling over. “I won’t have you haunting my girls and bringing them trouble. Get out!”
Pressure in my chest told me Shadow was near, but I couldn’t see her. It scared me that Esther might. Death came closer each day, stole a bit more from her.
Sadie caught her mother round the shoulders and eased the cane out of Esther’s hand. She gave me a bleak look before she led her mother away. “Come back to bed, Mama. I’ll make you some hot milk to help you sleep.”
Annie and I sat quietly for a moment once Sadie left the room. A few brief seconds of silence gave me hope that if I stalled long enough, Annie wouldn’t ask about the dream. I knew better, but I clung to the foolish belief she might have softened over the last three years.
That was folly.
“Talk to me, Delia. Getting hurtful things out into the light’s always better.” She took my hand, rubbing warmth back into my fingers. “I know Sadie was having trouble sleeping after speaking with Jack for so long. Did your talk with Gabriel bring bad dreams?”
“No.” I cleared my throat, trying to swallow air suddenly sticky as honey. “Gabe isn’t to blame.”
“The ghost then, the one you and Sadie whisper about. She needs to stop bothering you.” Annie’s mouth set in a thin line. “My Gran showed me the trick of running off ghosts causing trouble.”
Shadow shimmered into view, clean and neat with the shawl draped over her shoulders, and every hair in place. The blood and bruises so evident in my nightmare had vanished again. She hovered in the same spot where Esther had stood, hands folded primly at her waist. Her throat was bare, the cross I’d grown accustomed to missing.
A soft wind began to blow through the room, stirring the curtains and my hair. No anger filled the air, only the fear I’d let Annie send her away.
I stared into my ghost’s pleading eyes, unable to turn away from her desperation and certain she understood our every word. Certain, as well, that the grief and sorrow I felt were my own. I couldn’t help thinking about her child, how she’d pleaded with the killer that her baby needed her. Shadow deserved justice and to rest in peace. I’d do my best to give her both. “No, she needs to stay a little longer. We’re not finished yet.”
* * *
I slept until after nine, waking to brilliant sunshine and the sound of sparrows and finches squabbling under the eaves. Their quarrels died away as they got down to the business of feeding nestlings and males singing their territory. The cedar tree outside my window was home to many of their nests. Drooping green needles and tightly shut cones scraped against wooden siding and the window frame with each touch of the breeze. Birds perched on the branches and flitted off again: purple finch, juncos not yet gone for the summer, crowned sparrows and mourning doves. Reciting the names was a familiar summer morning ritual, one I’d started at sixteen.
Listing birds also kept me from thinking of ghosts and nightmares, of sorrows past and present. I was all in favor of that.
Annie carried Esther’s breakfast tray past my door before I’d managed to force myself out of bed. Cutlery rattled against china plates and bowls in time to her footfalls, and the smell of bacon, muffins, and coffee drifted into my room. She hummed an old spiritual, the sound comforting and familiar. Esther’s raspy voice and Sadie’s laugh followed soon after. I threw off the covers, put on my dressing gown, and went to join them.
Sadie came to my room after breakfast, a bit of company and moral support while I got ready for my excursion to Stanford. The thought of what we might learn from Professor Adams both excited me and made me nervous.
Nerves were determined to carry the day. My teasing of the night before became all too real a problem as I stared into my armoire. Clothing I’d left behind three years before, now dreadfully out of fashion, stared back at me. I promptly went into a panic over what to wear. “Oh, no … I completely forgot my trunk still hasn’t arrived.”
“What’s wrong, Dee?” Sadie appeared at my shoulder, viewing my small assortment of skirts, blouses, and my lone garden party dress with puzzlement.
I gestured at what some might call my wardrobe. “This is what’s wrong. Normally I don’t give two figs about what I wear, you know that. But I made the mistake of teasing Gabe last night about how I should dress to visit Professor Adams and he took me seriously.”
“You were teasing Gabe Ryan.” Sadie crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m certain your conversation with him was at least as grim as mine was with Jack. Of course Gabe took you seriously. He takes everything seriously, not that you’d know. Whatever did you say?”
Now I felt doubly foolish, but if I dove under the bed to avoid answering, Sadie would just pull me out again. “I asked if wanting me along was strictly a professional request for my company. And then I said that I’d like to know how to dress … depending on his answer.”
Sadie stared at me for an instant before she burst out laughing. “Delia Martin, I can’t believe you were flirting with him! What did Gabe say?”
“I think I shocked him at first, because he just stared. He finally managed to say that asking for help with the investigation was professional, but that wanting to spend time with a new friend was completely selfish on his part.” I sank onto the vanity chair in front of the dressing table, reconsidering my plan to hide under the bed. “It all got so complicated. I didn’t think I was flirting. I certainly didn’t think Gabe would take it that way. Maybe I shouldn’t go after all.”
She grinned impishly, obviously enjoying my discomfort. Equally delighted, I was sure, with seeing her schemes come to fruition with no effort on her part. I’d put my own head in the noose.
Sadie got a hand under my arm and dragged me to my feet. “Too late to back out now, Dee. Gabe will be here in
an hour. We’ll find something of mine for you to wear. By the time I finish, you’ll knock Gabe Ryan out of his shoes.”
I dug my heels in and refused to budge. “I’ve only known him for a day. I’m not sure I want to knock him out of his shoes.”
The grin faded. An earnestness I rarely saw in Sadie crowded out the glee. “Jack is Gabe’s oldest friend, just as you’re mine. I want the two of you to be friends as well. What’s the harm in that?”
What Sadie didn’t say is that after the wedding she’d have little free time for me and Jack would have just as little for Gabe. That was the way of newly married couples, all their attention was focused on each other.
Her intentions were good; she didn’t want Gabe or me to be lonely. I relented somewhat. “No harm in being friends I suppose, I do like Gabe. But that’s as far as I’m willing to go. I want a promise you won’t be plotting romance and matchmaking behind my back.”
She took my hand, still solemn and earnest. “I’d never think of matchmaking behind your back. You’ve my word on that.”
“Just try to remember this is more fun for you than for me or Gabe.” The clock in the parlor chimed the half-hour. Another brief moment of panic gripped me until I remembered the clock ran fast. “We’d best get on with finding me something suitable to wear. I think I’ve settled on trying for friendly looking, but serious enough for visiting a university. Do you think we can manage that?”
Sadie beamed, glee restored. “I think we can do a little better than friendly. You’ll look stunning.”
I’d never looked stunning in anything, but I didn’t argue. Sadie tugged me into the hall and toward my doom, telling me all about current fashion and what colors might look best on me at midday.
Shadow stood outside Esther’s door, hands pressed against her stomach, the picture of eternal patience. She turned to look at me for an instant, her eyes full of sorrow, and went back to watching Esther sleep. Tears filled my eyes, the brightness of Sadie’s chatter dimming. I knew what the ghost was waiting for, what it meant.
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