“I’m sorry you wasted your money on these two swindlers,” Reid says.
Sir Gerald responds in the level, controlled manner of a flint-hearted businessman negotiating with an opponent. “What is it you think they’ve done?”
Reid tells him about the murders at the dinosaur park. “Now that you don’t need their services any longer, I’ll take them off your hands.” He snaps his fingers at the constables.
They move in on Hugh and me. We’re too weary, sore, and defeated to resist again. Our big case, for which we had such high hopes, has ended in tragedy. The prospect of a terrible incarceration in Newgate looms, and when Reid is done with us, we’ll surely hang.
“No, you don’t,” Sir Gerald says. “They’re staying.”
Hugh and I gape, astonished that he still wants us. Reid huffs, “With all due respect, Sir Gerald, this is police business. You’ve no right to interfere.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll just have a word with the prime minister.”
Offended because Sir Gerald’s influence trumps the police’s authority, Reid says, “So I should just let them go free? They’re liable to skip town.”
I don’t know whether Sir Gerald thinks we’re innocent or guilty; he doesn’t look at us. He tells Reid, “I’ll keep them under guard at my house.”
Reid frowns, reluctant to give us special treatment, afraid of Sir Gerald going over his head and costing him his job. “I’ll need to interrogate them.”
“Whenever you want.”
“Keep them someplace where they can’t talk to each other.”
Sir Gerald looks more like an iron statue than a grief-stricken father of a drowned child. “Anything else?”
“They’re troublemakers. If anything bad happens while they’re in your custody, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Reid stalks away, calling to his men, “Clear the spectators from the crime scene. Start looking for evidence.”
Barrett gives me one last angry, betrayed look before he joins the other constables.
“Thanks, Sir Gerald,” Hugh says as a constable removes our handcuffs. “We owe you.”
Sir Gerald glances at his wife weeping over their son’s body before he gives us a bleak version of his crafty smile. “You’ll pay me back eventually.”
18
Locked in my room, the key confiscated by Sir Gerald’s guards, I call to Hugh through the connecting door, but there’s silence on the other side. The guards must have put him in a different room. I remove my coat and bonnet, take them to my bathroom, and wash off the mud. Then I stand by the window. The fog has thickened, it’s getting dark, and I can’t see anything. The vibrant reds and costly exotic furnishings in my room seem to mock me, a prisoner in this place where I’ve never belonged.
An hour passes. I hear doors opening, footsteps, and voices in the distance. I wonder where Hugh is. I only hope Mick went home. And where is Barrett? My fear that I’ve lost him is so agonizing that I double over, clutch my chest, and moan. Has he washed his hands of me? If he has, I can’t blame him. Even if he hasn’t, he can’t stop Inspector Reid from grinding Hugh and me under the wheels of justice.
The clock in the hall chimes six o’clock. A knock at the door raises my hopes that Sir Gerald has come to set me free; but it’s only a guard who lets in a maid carrying a covered tray. She leaves it on the table. Shaky from hunger as well as fear, I eat bread, cold roast beef, mulligatawny soup, and lemon cake from last night. Either Robin’s death has lowered the Mariner culinary standard or the cook has deemed leftovers good enough for the prisoners. I’m grateful for the animal comfort of the food, knowing that this may be my last decent meal. When I’m done, I’m calmer but exhausted from the long, disturbing day. Before I can lie down for a nap, there comes another knock at the door. I spring to my feet.
It’s John Pierce. I’m not relieved to see him instead of Reid. He steps into the room, closing the door, his manner quiet and businesslike. “Inspector Reid is on his way to interrogate you and Lord Hugh. I have a carriage and driver waiting outside to take both of you to the station. I’ll distract the police so you can get away.”
Astonished, I say, “Why would you do that?” He never liked us, he thinks we’re swindlers, and I would have thought he would be glad to see us in the hands of the law.
“Because I don’t think you killed those people.” His certainty isn’t flattering; it’s obvious that he thinks Hugh and I are too soft to commit murder. If he only knew. “Because somebody once helped me when I was in a similar position.”
I frown, distrusting his goodwill. Pierce explains, “After the Civil War, I worked on a barge on the Mississippi River. A woman was murdered in a town in Tennessee where it docked. The police suspected me. I didn’t kill her, but I was a stranger and a drifter. They hunted me, and I barely managed to jump a train. It was a cold, rainy night, and all I had was the clothes on my back. There was another man riding in the freight car. He shared his food with me, and when the police stopped the train at the next station, he distracted them while I ran away. I don’t know why he helped me. I never saw him again. This is my chance to repay the favor.”
The story has the resonance of truth, but I think Pierce isn’t above using his personal experience to manipulate me. “Do you really want to help us, or are you afraid we’ll tell Reid something that will make him think you put Robin in the pond?”
Pierce acknowledges my accusation with a humorless smile. “I didn’t kill Robin. When he was pulled up from the pond, I was as surprised as anyone. And you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Lady Alexandra thinks you did,” I say.
Surprise raises Pierce’s eyebrows.
“She accused you last night in the garden.”
Pierce grimaces, enlightened and displeased. “So you were eavesdropping. If you stayed for the whole conversation, then you also heard me accuse Alexandra. I think she killed Robin.”
“She has an alibi. She was with Tabitha. You haven’t.”
“You’re wasting time. Reid will be here any minute. Do you want to go or not?”
As much as I’d like to evade Reid, I say, “No, thank you.” I don’t know that Pierce didn’t murder the woman in America; I have only his word for it. Maybe he’ll have the driver take Hugh and me to a remote place and kill us so we can’t talk. At any rate, if we go on the lam, Reid will interpret it as evidence that we’re guilty of the murders in the dinosaur park.
Pierce shrugs. “Suit yourself. By the way, Sir Gerald said to remind you to abide by the confidentiality agreement.”
Dismay turns the food in my stomach to burning acid. “But this is no longer just a matter of who kidnapped Robin. Why doesn’t Sir Gerald want Hugh and me to cooperate with Inspector Reid and tell him whatever we know?” I can’t help hoping that if I cooperate with Reid’s inquiry into Robin’s death, he’ll go easier on Hugh and me regarding the murders in the park. “Doesn’t he want Robin’s murderer caught?”
“Just keep quiet,” Pierce says. “If you don’t, you’ll wish you’d accepted my offer.”
As he opens the door, I say, “Wait. Please tell Sir Gerald I’m sorry I didn’t find Robin before he died.” I don’t know whether I’ll have a chance to tell him myself.
Pierce regards me with contemptuous mirth. “The police surgeon said Robin was in the pond for at least two weeks, probably since the night he was kidnapped. The cold water kept his body from decomposing. By the time Sir Gerald hired you, it was too late to save him. You were nothing but a waste of money.”
He leaves before I can ask him if he was the one who broke into my trunk.
#
I stand watching the door, twisting my hands. My heartbeat accelerates as minutes tick by. I hear footsteps in the passage, then the door opens. I drop my hands, square my shoulders, and brace myself.
Reid strides in, and I glimpse two constables behind him before the door clicks shut. His narrow-eyed gaze surveys the room, and he chuckles. “Living in
the lap of luxury, I see. Must be a cushy job, working for Sir Gerald.”
The quality of his anger and hatred toward me has changed, as if his will has compressed them into a tight space within him. The possibility that he could explode at any moment is more frightening than his usual overt rage. I’m alone in my bedroom with my enemy, this man who has the power to hurt me in ways more personal than striking me. Resisting the impulse to cower, I glance around the room at vases and figurines, anything I could use to defend myself.
Reid smirks as if he knows what I’m thinking. He drags a fragile teak chair into the center of the room, away from potential weapons. “Sit down, Miss Bain.”
I obey, knowing he could force me. I stare him in the eye, my courage fortified by my own hatred.
Reid pulls the red brocade armchair so close to me that when he sits, our knees touch. “How’d you and Staunton dupe Sir Gerald into hiring you?”
“I’m not allowed to say. I signed a confidentiality agreement.” For the first time, I’m glad I did; it’s an excuse behind which I can hide all manner of secrets. I mustn’t tell him about the photograph I took in the dinosaur park or my search for my father.
“Fine.” Reid’s lack of objection makes me wary. “We’ll talk about the murders in the park. They happened before you started working for Sir Gerald, so your agreement doesn’t cover that.”
A chill of apprehension runs through me. How did he know? I can’t imagine that Sir Gerald told the police. Maybe it was somebody else from Mariner House? But there’s another disturbing possibility. “Where is Hugh? What have you done to him?”
“Don’t worry.” Reid’s unpleasant smile says he wants me to worry. “You can see him as soon as we’re finished talking.”
He also wants me to think Hugh spilled all the beans. I don’t believe Hugh would have done it willingly. Panic creeps along my nerves.
“Why were you and Staunton following Noel Vaughn?” Reid asks.
I want to believe Reid doesn’t already know the answer. Maybe Hugh didn’t talk. But maybe he did, and Reid is checking his story. If I tell Reid about our case, maybe he’ll see that Hugh and I had no reason to kill the couple and a jury would be unlikely to convict us; maybe he’ll leave us alone. “His wife hired us because she thought he was cheating on her, and she wanted proof.”
“So you spied on Vaughn for a couple of weeks.” Reid names the places we followed Vaughn. “But he was a good boy.”
No one except Hugh and I knew everywhere Vaughn went, except Vaughn himself; we never reported in that much detail to his wife. My fear burgeons because I think Hugh told Reid about the case for the same reason I’m telling him—to get him off our backs—and it didn’t work. Cold perspiration dampens my armpits.
“Then you saw him with Ethel Norris at the dinosaur park. You photographed them in the act.”
I’m frantic to know if Hugh is all right, desperate to escape whatever Reid has in store for me. “Yes. Then we went home.”
Reid gives me a chastising look. “That’s not what your partner says. Vaughn caught you spying. He was furious.”
“Yes. He yelled at us. We left.”
“You’re leaving out the part where Vaughn chased you and Staunton. He tried to take your camera and smash the negative plate.”
I stare, astonished. “What?”
Reid’s teeth flash through his mustache in a wolfish grin. “So you hit Vaughn on the head with an iron bar. Ethel Norris started screaming. You strangled her to shut her up.”
“That’s not what happened!” Outrage fills me.
“It is, according to Staunton.”
“He didn’t say that! He wouldn’t!” But I suppose that if he were subjected to torture, he would say anything to make it stop.
“I’ll spell it out for you,” Reid says. “Staunton is telling one story. If you want to tell a different one, here’s your chance.”
Now I see what Reid is doing. “You’re trying to play Hugh and me against each other. It won’t work.” Even if Hugh crumbled under duress, even if he incriminated me, I shan’t incriminate him. “We spied on Noel Vaughn, we took photographs, and we went home.”
“Staunton sold you out. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty.” Reid’s patronizing manner doesn’t quite hide his impatience.
“And if I say Hugh is the murderer? Then what? You’ll let me go?”
Reid smiles, shrugs, and spreads his hands, as if to say “Yes, it’s that simple” without actually committing himself.
I shan’t fall for that. “Hugh didn’t kill those people, and neither did I.”
Angry frustration shows through Reid’s smile like fire through a window of a burning building. “Either Staunton goes down, or you do. It’s your choice.”
Folding my arms, I glare at him to hide my terror. I brace myself for curses, threats, and blows.
“I’ll let you think it over,” Reid says. “In the meantime, you can tell me what you’ve discovered at Mariner House.”
Unbalanced by the sudden change of topic, I stammer, “The confidentiality agreement—”
“Ah, yes, the confidentiality agreement.” Reid regards me with pity. “Your determination to protect Sir Gerald is admirable, but how much longer do you think he’s going to protect you? You didn’t solve the kidnapping. Robin is dead. You’re no use to Sir Gerald. He’ll cut you loose any minute now.”
I press my lips together, afraid that I’ll vomit, that Reid is right. Our time at Mariner House is running out, and the threat of Newgate looms.
“So.” Reid’s eyes twinkle; he perceives my thoughts. “Tell me about Sir Gerald’s nearest and dearest. Who would you like to start with—Lady Alexandra, Tristan, or Olivia? John Pierce or Tabitha Jenkins?”
Comprehension rattles my already overtaxed nerves. Reid thinks Robin’s kidnapping was an inside job, and he suspects members of the Mariner family. “You don’t owe them anything,” Reid says. “If they were in your position, they would rat on you quicker than I could count one, two, three.”
He also aims to kill two birds with one stone. He wants to pin the dinosaur park murders on Hugh and me as well as solve Robin’s murder, and he thinks I have information he needs. I’m reluctant to give up my information and not only because of the confidentiality agreement. I still believe that the same person who kidnapped Robin also committed the murders. Providing an alternative suspect in the murders might help me exonerate Hugh and myself, but I feel a certain loyalty to Sir Gerald as well as fear of his wrath. And Reid is capable of misinterpreting evidence and sending an innocent person to jail while the real criminal goes free. I hold my tongue.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Reid says. “You give me the dirt on the Mariner family, and here’s what my report about the murders in the dinosaur park will say: Noel Vaughn and Ethel Norris attacked you and Staunton. There was a fight, and you two killed them in self-defense. You won’t be charged with their murders, and I’ll see that you don’t even spend time in prison for obstructing justice.”
It’s a trick. He’ll never let us go unpunished. “No,” I say, stubborn even as my voice cracks.
Reid rises and stands over me, his gaze so hostile that I have to force myself to meet it. I smell his sweat, see his nostrils flare. My heart pounds, and my stomach churns.
“You have until tomorrow morning to change your mind.” His voice is tight with his effort to control his temper. “If you don’t, the deal is off the table, and I’ll see you in Newgate.”
The door slams behind him, and the key turns in the lock.
19
The roar of a crowd and the tramping of footsteps penetrate the darkness under the black cloth that hangs from the back of my camera and covers my head. The image in the viewfinder is a blur of motion—a parade of men, their faces smeared with soot. They carry burning torches and wave signs. I can smell the smoke, but I can’t read the messages painted on the signs or understand the words the men are chanting. Effigies with wax heads, skewered on pikes
, whirl above the parade. Along the roadside are mobs of people yelling and shaking their fists. They swarm into the parade, and it explodes into a brawl. I swivel the camera on its tripod, looking for my father.
Bricks and bottles fly through the air. A baby’s high-pitched crying rises above the noise. Police constables invade the scene in the viewfinder. Fear assails me because they’re after my father. I crank the bellows of my camera, trying to bring the scene into focus. The constables shout as they beat someone with their nightsticks. I can’t see who, but I know it’s my father; I can hear his pleas for mercy through the clamor of cursing. Desperate to rescue him, I fling the black drape off my head.
The marchers, police, the mob, and my camera are gone. I’m alone in a garden at night. Marble statues pose amid flowerbeds. Smoke veils the moon, and the woods in the distance are on fire. I hear the baby crying. It’s Robin Mariner, calling my name. I turn to see the ivy-covered brick wall of a mansion. A ladder leans against the wall beneath a window on the second floor. Robin’s cries emanate from the window. I grasp the ladder, lift my skirts, and climb. At the top, I crawl through the window into a dim room that’s empty except for a crib. There lies baby Robin, swaddled in a blanket. I pick him up, and he cries as I carry him along a dark passage and down a flight of stairs. Something falls from his blanket, a little toy rabbit with white plush fur and pink glass eyes. I hear footsteps racketing down the stairs behind me and angry shouts.
They’re after me.
Robin vanishes from my grasp. I’m riding sidesaddle on a horse through misty woods. I clutch the reins as the horse gallops faster, too fast. A gunshot blasts nearby. Hugh shouts, and I smell the smoke from the burnt powder. Olivia, on horseback, bursts upon me. I’m jolted off my mount; I’m falling.
Even as I scream, my feet land on solid ground. I’m standing beside a pond that gleams silver under a gray sky. People from the march wave fists, signs, and torches at me; they shout threats. My hands are yanked behind my back. Inspector Reid’s voice says, “You’re under arrest.”
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