by Nerys Leigh
Responsibility for her safety weighed down on him, and it wasn’t just because he was her training agent. He finally had to admit to himself that she’d become important to him. He didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with that, but he’d do anything to protect her.
He just didn’t know now if anything he could do would be enough.
Chapter Fifteen
It was evening by the time Clara and Toby got back to the hotel.
She couldn’t remember ever having been so exhausted, either physically or emotionally. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood-covered body of Ephraim Long. She didn’t think she’d ever stop seeing it.
She tore the hat from her head the moment they walked into their suite, barely taking time to remove the pins, and dropped onto the settee. Now she was back in the sanctuary of their rooms, all the strength seemed to leave her.
“Can I get you anything?” Toby asked. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head.
She could feel him watching her, but she didn’t look up. He must have thought her such a weakling for being so shaken over a dead body.
People died all the time. Pinkerton agents probably saw them constantly. Well, maybe not constantly, but often enough for it not to faze them. And yet here she was, trembling like a leaf over the sight of her first corpse.
She wanted to be strong, but strength wouldn’t come. All she could see were the dead man’s lifeless eyes, staring at nothing. There was something so fundamentally wrong about something that used to contain life but was now empty.
She shivered involuntarily at the thought. Would she ever stop feeling this way?
Toby disappeared into the bedroom. He returned with a blanket and sat beside her, draping it around her shoulders.
Leaning against him, the tears finally came.
He wrapped his arms around her without saying a word, just holding her silently until her sobs eased and, after a while, her trembling stopped as his warmth and strength seeped into her. How she would ever do this without him was beyond her. She was beginning to think that applying to become a Pinkerton agent had been a mistake.
Except, if she hadn’t, she would never have met Toby. She didn’t want to imagine her life never having known him.
“You must think I’m such a coward,” she whispered, “falling apart over a dead body.”
His chest rose and fell in a slow sigh. “Do you want to know when I saw my first dead body?”
Something in the tone of his voice told her this was important to him, something he didn’t share. And yet he was offering to share it with her.
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.
His chin was resting against her head and she felt his neck bob in a swallow. “It was during the draft riots. There’d been reports of looting and violence in a Negro neighborhood and some of us were sent to intervene, but we were too late. When we got there, we found a Negro man tied to a tree, dead. They’d… well, I won’t tell you what they’d done, but one of the patrolmen in my group was sick right there in the street from the sight. It was the worst thing I’d ever seen. I won’t ever get that out of my head.”
“What did you do?”
“We cut down the body and carried him to the nearest police station.” A breath shuddered through his chest. “And then we went right back out.”
She squeezed her burning eyes shut, pressing her face into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“When I finally had the chance to get a few hours’ sleep, I found a place by myself and I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop. But when I had to, I went out again. I saw a lot of other terrible things before it was over, but I did what needed to be done.” His hand rubbed slow circles on her back. “You were brave today. You were shocked and scared, but you didn’t stop. You did what needed to be done. There’s no shame in feeling the way you do now. You feel things; it’s who you are.” He paused. “And I like who you are.”
Her breath caught. Did he mean he just liked her as a person? Or did he mean more? Because she really wanted him to mean more.
“I like who you are too.” She wanted to see his face, to gauge how he felt about her admission, but she didn’t dare look. So they sat quietly for a while longer before she spoke again. “How long were you a policeman?”
“A little over two years.”
“Why did you leave?”
“It never suited me. I wanted to investigate crimes, but the job was more concerned with preventing them. It frustrated me. Eventually, I decided I needed to do something else, so I left.”
“And became a Pinkerton detective.”
“Not right away, but yes.”
“What did you do in between?”
He paused before replying. “You really want me to tell you everything?”
She raised her face to look at him. “Yes, I want you to tell me everything.”
He studied her for a few moments before nodding. “All right.”
They talked through the evening, sharing their pasts and their presents and their hopes for their futures, and by the time they went to bed, Clara was fairly sure she was falling in love with her husband.
The problem was, despite her gift of being able to tell how almost everyone around her was feeling, she had no idea how Toby felt about her.
Chapter Sixteen
A sound startled Tobias from slumber. Only half awake, he scrambled from the settee and cast aside the blanket as he ran for the bedroom.
Even in his sleep, he knew it was Clara who had cried out.
He burst through the bedroom door and stumbled to a halt, his heart pounding.
She was sitting up in the bed, her hands pressed over her face and her shoulders rising and falling in rapid breaths.
“Clara?”
“It was just a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Hearing her sound so vulnerable wrenched at his heart. He’d foolishly thought she had mostly recovered from the shock of the previous day. He should have known better.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, lowering her hands. “Would you stay with me? You can go once I fall asleep, if you’d prefer.”
As if there was any question of him leaving her now.
He walked back into the living room to retrieve his pillow, then returned to the bedroom and laid it beside hers.
She lay back down as he climbed into the bed, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I’ll be right here all night,” he whispered.
She snuggled into his embrace with a sigh, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes. “Thank you.”
I don’t want this to end, he thought as he held her, waiting for her to fall asleep.
He knew it with more certainty than he’d ever known anything. He wanted her smiles and her laughter and her chatter and her teasing and her breathing.
He wanted all of her, for the rest of his life.
Chapter Seventeen
When Tobias woke the following morning, something felt wrong. On opening his eyes, he knew what it was – Clara wasn’t with him in the bed.
Could he really have become, in so short a time, so accustomed to her presence that when she wasn’t there he felt wrong? There was no logic to it and yet there he was without her, feeling… wrong.
It turned out he’d been right about working with a woman being a distraction, but he’d been completely wrong about how that distraction would affect him. He’d thought she would get in the way of his work. He hadn’t ever considered she would get in the way of his heart.
He rose and padded into the living room in his bare feet.
Clara sat on the settee in her nightdress and robe, her unbrushed hair tumbling over her shoulders and her attention on several pieces of paper scattered across the low table she’d pulled in front of her. The documents from the case files.
She looked up as he approached.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, grabbing the top h
alf of his pajamas from the chair where he’d left it the previous night and shrugging it on.
“Better, thanks to you. I don’t think I’d have slept another wink if you hadn’t been there, but I slept soundly the whole rest of the night, with not a single nightmare.” She smiled. “I hope you were able to get some sleep over the sound of my constant breathing.”
He sat on the settee beside her. “I managed.” He didn’t mention that he’d actually had trouble getting to sleep without it. “What time is it anyway?”
“Around seven thirty.”
He feigned shock. “How long have you been awake? Are you feeling well?” He touched his palm to her forehead in a pretense of gauging her temperature.
The move surprised him a little. It wasn’t at all like him to tease.
He was rewarded with the musical sound of her laughter.
“I can rise early,” she said, “with sufficient good reason.”
“And what reason is that?” He regretted asking the question when her beautiful smile vanished.
She looked at the papers spread in front of her. “I know we were only hired to find Miss Carter, but I want to help find out who killed Ephraim Long. No one should get away with what they did to him. We can do that, can’t we? Take on a case we haven’t been hired for?”
Fear shivered through his gut, and not for himself. “Well, yes, but in this instance I don’t think we should.”
Her face fell. “Why not? Don’t you think the murderers should be brought to justice?”
“Of course I do, but….” He let out a long breath. “You don’t know what it’s like here. Much of this city is relatively safe, but there are places, like Five Points where we found Ephraim Long’s body, where the gangs hold sway. If a gang was involved in his death, and I’m fairly sure they were, it would be incredibly dangerous for us to go after them. Let the police deal with this; it’s what they’re there for.”
“But…”
“I will not put you in danger. I know, as a Pinkerton agent, you will be in danger sometimes, but while you’re with me, I won’t allow you to face anything I can’t protect you from.” He placed both hands on her shoulders, willing her to understand. “Two years I worked here, and I saw things no one should see. Please don’t ask me to put you in a situation where something like that could happen to you.”
She searched his face for a few moments before her shoulders slumped. “I understand. But could we at least go and see Captain Perkins and find out what’s being done to find the murderers?”
He breathed out in relief. “We can do that.”
She raised her eyes to his again and he suddenly realized he was still holding onto her. Reluctantly, he let go and sat back. “I’d like to get in a run before breakfast. Do you want to use the bathroom before me?”
“Could I come with you?”
He frowned in confusion. “To the bathroom?”
Her smile returned. “No, out, wherever you’re going.”
Now he was even more confused. “You want to come running with me?”
She wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way. “Well, not running. Could we possibly walk?”
At that moment he’d have agreed to crawl on his stomach over broken glass if she’d asked him to. “I think I can manage to walk.”
~ ~ ~
Their walk around Central Park had Clara wanting to go out every morning with Toby. The weather was pleasantly warm but not too hot, the scenery was beautiful, and their conversation was relaxed and fun. His smile was even in evidence on several occasions, and it sent little tingles of delight through her chest whenever he directed it at her.
It all helped to ease the last of her anguish from the day before. It was even worth getting up at seven in the morning for.
They followed their walk with breakfast at the hotel and then took a cab to the police station to inquire about the progress of the investigation.
“I’ve had a couple of patrolmen out questioning the neighbors, but so far no one knows anything,” Captain Perkins told them in his office.
“Or they know but aren’t saying anything,” Toby said.
“More than likely. You know how it is, how it’s always been.”
Toby removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, I know. Who’s running the Five Points nowadays?”
Captain Perkins leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s something of a matter of contention. The Whyos are gaining power just about everywhere, but most of Five Points is still Hat territory.”
“Hat territory?” Clara asked.
“The Hatmakers gang,” the captain replied. “So called because at the beginning they used to meet above a milliner’s shop. They’re relatively new – only been going a few years now. They sprang up when the Rabbits folded.”
“Rabbits?”
“The Dead Rabbits,” Toby said. “So called because…. actually, you probably don’t want to know why.”
“If it was a gang killing you found, I’d bet on it being the Hats,” Captain Perkins said. “Thing is, the Hatmakers are on the way out. We’ve been able to put a lot of them behind bars lately, and I’d estimate there can’t be more than forty of them left, if that. We’ve been trying to find the leader, but he’s always one step ahead of us. We’ll get him though. It’s only a matter of time.”
“What about the sawdust we found in the shoe print?” Clara asked. “Have you found out where that came from?”
Captain Perkins gave her a look that was probably supposed to be kind, but at that moment came off as condescending. “Mrs. Campbell, we only have a limited number of men to keep order around here. I wish it wasn’t the case, but we don’t have the time to go following vague clues. That sawdust could have come from anywhere, at any time. It could have been on someone’s boot for weeks and just happened to dislodge there. And there’s no way to know where it came from anyway.”
“But…”
“I simply don’t have the manpower right now. I’m sorry.”
Clara remembered what Toby had said the evening before, about his frustration at being unable to investigate properly while with the police. Now she knew how he felt.
“You could at least send someone to the local furniture makers,” he said.
Captain Perkins frowned. “Do you know how many murders there are in Five Points every week?”
“You know that I do.”
“Then you also know we don’t have time to look into every little thing that probably means nothing.”
“But it was in the blood,” Clara protested.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Campbell, I know it wasn’t easy for you to find the victim like that. But there’s nothing else I can do.”
She looked at Toby for help, but he was staring at the desk, a nerve ticking in his jaw. He’d known this would be the outcome of their visit, but he’d done it anyway, probably for her. It was the same as all the times at her local police station when her ideas had been politely but firmly dismissed. Being a Pinkerton agent didn’t seem to help at all.
“I can’t believe they’re not even going to try to find out where that sawdust came from,” Clara said the moment they were back outside. “It was a genuine clue! How can he just dismiss it like that?”
“That’s part of the reason I left,” Toby replied, holding out his elbow. “I wanted to investigate the evidence and there was never the time to do it. It was always the same – there weren’t enough patrolmen to go round and my ideas weren’t worth following up.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I’m so frustrated right now.”
“I know how you feel.”
“What are we going to do? The people who murdered Mr. Long are just going to get away with it.”
He was silent as they walked arm in arm towards where they’d left the cab. Eventually, he said softly, “If you were hurt, I’d never forgive myself.”
Was the caring in his voice simply because she was his student, and therefore his responsibili
ty? Or could he possibly feel the same way about her as she felt about him? She let herself hope, just a bit, that it could be the latter.
“You’re here.” She rubbed his arm with her free hand. “You won’t let me get hurt.”
“I can’t protect you from everything.”
“You don’t have to. I chose to become a Pinkerton agent even though I knew there’d be some danger. I want to give that man and any family he has some justice. I promise I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”
He raised an eyebrow and she laughed.
“I can be obedient when I want to. I just don’t always want to.”
He smiled a little, but his expression almost immediately sobered again.
After a good half minute of silence, he blew out a long breath. “All right, we’ll look into the sawdust. But at the slightest hint of danger, you run. I mean it, don’t wait for me, and don’t stop for anything.”
“Run,” she said, grinning. “Got it.”
Tiny creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “You can run, can’t you?”
She slapped his arm lightly. “Of course I can run. Just not for fun.”
Chapter Eighteen
Back at the hotel, Tobias found a copy of Trow’s New York City Directory and they combed it for all the furniture makers and carpenters within close, but not too close, proximity of Clive Loomis’ address on Orange Street.
This was the kind of thing Tobias enjoyed most about his job, using deductive reasoning to follow the evidence.
He surmised that the sawdust would have rubbed off the boot before its owner reached the tenement, if he’d walked there. Two places were a sufficient distance to warrant traveling by carriage, by not so far that it would require a long ride covered in blood and possibly transporting a hostage. At some point, someone would have noticed something.
That was if Loomis himself wasn’t the murderer, and Tobias didn’t think he was. By the vicious nature of the murder, it was almost certain to be gang-related, and no gang member would murder someone in his own apartment. They were arrogant and often stupid, but not that stupid.