* * *
SARAH HAD GONE TO HER PARENTS’ HOUSE HOURS BEFORE the time she’d agreed to meet Malloy there. She wanted to spend time with Catherine and to prepare her for what was coming. She didn’t want her to be frightened, but she wanted her to be prepared. Of course, when she told Catherine that Mr. Malloy would be going with them, nothing else mattered.
Her father didn’t usually go to his office on Saturday anyway, so he’d been driving her mother to distraction all morning. Sarah had to inform him that Malloy felt he should not accompany them.
He took the news with good grace. “In his place, I’m sure I would feel I could adequately protect you and Catherine, but I can’t help thinking having another man along whom he can trust would be an advantage.”
“Father, you’ve already been a tremendous help to us in this whole matter. I’ll always be grateful, but to be completely honest, your strength is more in using your influence and less in using your . . .”
“Strength?” he said helpfully when she couldn’t think of anything diplomatic to say.
“Exactly.”
“And you would be just one more person whose safety Mr. Malloy must consider,” her mother said. “And one more loved one for me to worry about.”
“Thank you, my dear, for putting me firmly in my place.”
Her mother simply smiled serenely, confident her work was done.
At last Malloy arrived, and Sarah went to meet him the instant he entered the parlor.
“Vaughn?” she whispered.
“They were separated. He said there’s no possibility.”
“What’s that?” her mother asked.
“Nothing important,” Sarah said, fighting the wave of disappointment. “Mr. Malloy was just telling me Parnell Vaughn still doesn’t remember who killed Emma.”
Her parents greeted Malloy, who joined her on the sofa.
“Has Sarah explained to you why we’d like for you both to remain here?” he asked.
“Yes, she has,” her father said. “But if you’ve changed your mind, I’m perfectly willing to assist you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Decker, but I don’t think that will be necessary. Your coachman will be with us, and I really don’t expect any trouble while we’re with Wilbanks. Even the most brazen killer wouldn’t dare attack someone under his roof. And of course, after we’ve told the family why we came, there won’t be any reason to harm Catherine anymore.”
“When you explain it like that, I feel so much better,” her mother said.
“I wish I did,” her father said. “I won’t feel better until you’re all back here, safe and sound.”
They sent for Catherine, and Maeve brought her in. She was a vision in a dress Sarah had never seen before, a delightful creation with enough ribbons, bows, and ruffles to delight any little girl’s heart. Her brown hair had been brushed smooth and tied back with a pink ribbon. When she saw Malloy, she gave a squeal of delight and ran to him.
He caught her up into his lap and allowed her to hug and kiss him. “I’m so happy to see you!” she cried.
“I’m happy to see you, too. You look very pretty.”
She smiled, lowering her head modestly but still watching Malloy out of the corner of her eye. “My dress is new.”
“Mrs. Decker has been spoiling her,” Maeve reported without a trace of disapproval.
“I like being spoiled,” Catherine informed them, and in spite of the tension, they all laughed.
“Mama said we’re going to visit some people,” she told him.
“Yes, we are. What else did she tell you?”
“She said I’m not allowed to eat or drink anything while we’re there, no matter who gives it to me, and if I do that, I can have ice cream later.”
“Ice cream?” he said with just the proper amount of reverence. “I’d like to have some myself.”
“Maybe if you don’t eat or drink anything there, you can have some, too.” She glanced around, as if waiting for someone to confirm or deny this theory. When no one spoke, she said, “But if not, I’ll share mine with you.” She smiled sweetly, and he tried to smile back, but couldn’t quite do it. “Are you crying?” she asked.
“Of course not. I’ve just got something in my eye.” He finally managed a smile.
“Come along, Catherine,” Maeve said quickly. “Let’s get your coat so you’ll be ready to go.”
Catherine scrambled down, and when she was gone, all four of the adults remaining had to wipe their eyes.
“I’ll protect them with my life, Mr. Decker,” Malloy said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
13
ALTHOUGH SARAH AND MALLOY TRIED TO BE CHEERFUL, Catherine must have sensed their tension. She was silent during the carriage ride, snuggling tightly up to Sarah and holding her hand. At least a dozen times during the short ride Sarah wanted to jump out and carry Catherine back to the safety of her parents’ house.
When they pulled up in front of the Wilbankses’ house, Malloy stepped out first and scanned the street. Traffic was light in this neighborhood, and few people were on the street here on a chilly Saturday afternoon. The only vehicle in sight was a hansom cab near the corner. The driver was examining his horse’s front leg, a common sight. City traffic took a toll on the animals.
Seeing no sign of danger, Malloy helped Sarah and Catherine alight.
The maid answered their knock instantly and took their coats. She stared so intently at Catherine that Sarah was sure she must know everything. Then she took them up to the parlor, and while she was announcing them, Malloy bent down and picked Catherine up. Sarah glanced at him in surprise, but his grim expression told her it was his way of protecting her from whatever was to come.
The tension hung like a fog in the room, engulfing them as they entered. An older man, thin to gauntness, sat by the fire with a blanket over his legs. He must be Mr. Wilbanks, and his hopeful expression almost broke Sarah’s heart. If she had doubted at all, she now knew for sure he loved Catherine. She nodded at Michael and Lynne Hicks, who stood on either side of Mr. Wilbanks’s chair. Michael looked solemn, and Lynne looked nervous. Gilda Wilbanks stood off to one side, her face a mask of hauteur. The man beside her must be her husband, Oswald. He seemed merely bewildered.
“She looks just like Alice,” Lynne Hicks said in wonder. “That’s our daughter,” she added to Sarah.
“No, she doesn’t,” Gilda said.
Lynne glared back at her defiantly. “You didn’t know Alice at this age.”
“Catherine,” Malloy said in that gentle voice he always used for her, “we’re going to play a game. You like games, don’t you?”
Catherine seemed uncertain, but she nodded.
“There’s a lot of people in this room. I want you to tell me which ones you already know. You can just point to them. Do you understand?”
She nodded again.
“All right,” he said. “Which of these people do you know?”
She gave him an impish grin, carefully folded her small hand until just her forefinger was extended, and pointed it at him. Sarah thought her heart might burst.
He gave her an adoring smile. “Good! Who else?”
Catherine looked at Sarah and grinned again before pointing at her. Sarah rewarded her with a loving smile.
“Good girl. Now look carefully at the rest of these people. Do you know any of them?”
Obviously taking her responsibility seriously, she examined each of the other people in the room. Malloy, still holding her, helped by turning so she could see the others more easily. She frowned at Ozzie and Gilda, who returned her stare with frowns of their own, then at Lynne, who smiled tentatively. She furrowed her brow at Wilbanks, whose avid gaze had not left her since the instant they’d entered the room.
“Papa?” she whispered.
His face broke into a radiant smile. “I have something for you, little girl. Do you remember where to look?”
She nodded, then gave
Malloy a questioning look. He said, “Go ahead,” and set her down with the utmost care.
The distance between her and Wilbanks seemed great to Sarah. It must have seemed immense to Catherine, who also felt the focused attention of everyone in the room. Sarah took her hand and walked with her over to Wilbanks. He turned back the corner of the lap robe and shifted slightly in his chair.
Catherine smiled shyly, slipped her hand into the pocket of his suit coat, and pulled out a tin of peppermints.
“You remembered,” he marveled, his voice husky with emotion.
Lynne Hicks made a strangled sound, and when Sarah looked at her, she said, “He used to bring them for Alice to find, too.”
“Would you like one?” he asked Catherine.
“We’ll save it for later,” Sarah said.
“Are you satisfied, Mrs. Wilbanks?” Malloy asked Gilda.
“I’m not the one who needed to be satisfied,” she said. “Father Wilbanks, are you sure this is the right child?”
“Gilda, really,” her husband said.
“Of course I am,” Wilbanks said, his ravaged face glowing.
“It’s been a long time,” Gilda reminded him. “And you’ve been ill.”
“I’m ill, not senile,” Wilbanks snapped. “I was afraid she wouldn’t know me.”
“Oh!” Catherine said, glancing back at Malloy. “I almost forgot.” She lifted her little hand and pointed at Wilbanks.
The tension in the room instantly evaporated. Even Michael Hicks chuckled. Lynne bent down and smiled at Catherine. “I’m very happy to meet you, Catherine. My name is Lynne, and I’m your . . . your aunt,” she finally decided.
Gilda made an exasperated noise, but no one paid her any mind.
“Mr. Wilbanks,” Sarah said, “we came today so I can assure you that Catherine is well loved. I intend to raise her as if she were my own daughter.”
“I can see that, Mrs. Brandt,” he said.
“I also want your family to know that we do not want or need any help or any part of your fortune, now or in the future.”
“Boldly spoken, Mrs. Brandt,” Michael Hicks said.
“And sincerely meant,” she replied.
“I appreciate your sentiments, Mrs. Brandt,” Wilbanks said, “but you cannot stop me from providing for my own child.”
“I’m told that I can refuse a bequest, however, and that is what I intend to do if you insist on making one.”
“Of course that’s what she says now,” Ozzie said.
Sarah gave him her most withering glare. “What I say now is to ask Mr. Wilbanks not to force me into such a situation. Sir, if you do not name Catherine in your will, then no one can be jealous of what she might receive.”
“Thank you for your frankness, Mrs. Brandt,” Wilbanks said. “Your father must be very proud to have a daughter like you.”
Sarah wondered if that were true, but it didn’t matter at the moment. “Are you saying you will grant my request?”
“How can I, in good conscience, refuse to keep my daughter safe?”
Relief surged through her, and Michael Hicks instinctively reached out to steady her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Now I’m fine. Thank you, Mr. Wilbanks.” Now Catherine was safe. No one had any reason to wish her harm again.
Wilbanks turned his attention back to Catherine and started asking her questions about herself. To Sarah’s surprise, Lynne Hicks had her husband bring over a chair so she could join in the conversation. She seemed almost as taken with the child as Wilbanks. Sarah stood sentinel, half enjoying seeing Catherine interact with the only blood family she had left and half anxious lest anyone say something to distress her.
Sarah was vaguely aware of Malloy, who maintained his distance from the rest, ready in case anything untoward happened, but of course nothing did. Gilda, obviously unhappy with the outcome of this meeting, had wandered over to the front window and pretended to peer out at the street while Ozzie tried to coax her into a good humor. Hicks joined them, his voice soothing but too soft for Sarah to hear his actual words.
Sarah watched Wilbanks, savoring his joy at being reunited with his child, but she realized he was quickly tiring. “It’s time for us to go now, Catherine. Would you like to give your papa a kiss?”
He leaned down, and she obediently gave him a peck on the cheek that made his eyes shine again. “Bring her back very soon,” he said.
“I will,” Sarah promised. “Thank you . . . for everything.”
He nodded, apparently too emotional to speak.
She took Catherine’s hand and headed for the door, where Malloy waited for them.
“Mr. Malloy,” Michael Hicks said, “we were wondering if you could tell some details about Miss Hardy’s death before you go.”
Malloy frowned and met Sarah’s gaze with a silent question. It was a reasonable request, but she certainly didn’t want Catherine hearing anything about Emma Hardy’s death. “Catherine and I will wait for you in the carriage.”
“I won’t be long,” he promised.
The maid helped them into their coats and showed them out. Her parents’ carriage sat at the curb where they had left it, the driver huddled in his coat high up on the seat.
“John, we’re going to wait for Mr. Malloy. He’ll be out in a few minutes,” she called to him.
She had only a second to think it odd that he hadn’t moved when the carriage door flew open. A dark figure sprang out and pressed a white cloth to her face. She tried to scream, tried to fight, but the sickly sweet scent engulfed her and everything went black.
* * *
FRANK HAD NO IDEA WHY HICKS WANTED TO HEAR about Emma’s death again, but he was actually glad for the opportunity to speak to Ozzie, since he suspected Ozzie might have been the mysterious stranger who visited her the night she died. He gave them a brief account of finding her body, watching Ozzie’s face closely. If he was indeed the killer, he was a cold one. He never even blinked.
“So it must have been her lover who killed her,” he said.
“It seems that way,” Frank said, happy to mislead him.
Hicks frowned but didn’t remind Frank he’d voiced other theories in their previous conversation. Wilbanks started to cough, and his daughter rang for the maid. He’d kept Sarah waiting long enough.
“I’ll keep you informed,” he said, preparing to take his leave.
“Something’s happening outside!” Gilda cried, turning Frank’s blood to ice. She still stood gazing out the front window. Hicks and Ozzie hurried over to see, but Frank turned and ran, out into the hall and down the stairs. He threw open the front door and took in the scene in an instant. Sarah lay motionless on the sidewalk. The carriage stood where it had earlier, the door hanging open, empty. The driver sat slumped on his perch, dead or unconscious.
“Catherine!” he shouted, descending the front stoop in two bounds. She was nowhere in sight. “Catherine!”
One of the horses whickered nervously, but no other sound came in response.
He knelt down to Sarah and instantly smelled the sweet scent of chloroform. Thank God, he thought, gently rolling her over. At least they hadn’t killed her. She groaned, already coming around. Relief surged through him but only for a moment. Where was Catherine?
Hicks ran out the front door and down the porch steps. “What’s happened?”
“Someone’s taken Catherine. They must’ve used chloroform on Mrs. Brandt and probably the driver, too. Check him, and call Police Headquarters and tell them to send as many men as they can.”
His mind raced. Who would have done this? Where would they have gone? They would have needed a vehicle to take Catherine away. Even unconscious, she would’ve attracted attention. He remembered the hansom cab sitting at the corner when they arrived. It was gone now, but it had been headed west, so he ran in that direction. Maybe he could catch sight of it. When he reached the end of the street, he stopped, gasping for breath, his heart pounding in terror, and look
ed wildly in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. To his surprise he saw the cab not half a block away, stopped dead. He ran to it, but even before he got there, he knew. He understood it completely. They’d planned it all so very carefully. They’d had another vehicle waiting there, a vehicle no one could identify, and they’d taken Catherine away in it, and he’d never see her again.
* * *
SARAH FOUGHT HER WAY BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS, HER head pounding, her eyes and nose stinging as she tried to concentrate on the voices. Someone was shouting, giving orders. Malloy? Why did he sound so angry?
“Mrs. Brandt, can you hear me?” a woman asked. “I think she’s coming around.”
“Sarah?” Malloy said. “Can you hear me?”
She could hear him just fine, but she couldn’t answer him. She could barely manage to open her eyes a slit to find him leaning over her. Where was she? What was happening? Something terrible, she thought. Something she didn’t want to remember. “Catherine?”
“They took her,” he said.
Pain convulsed her heart, and she gasped in agony.
“Did you see them? Do you know who they were?” he asked.
She searched her memory, mining it for anything, anything at all. She could feel the warmth of Catherine’s small hand in hers as they walked down the front steps and then . . . Nothing. She managed to whisper, “No.”
Other voices were arguing, but she couldn’t make sense of them. She wanted Malloy to tell her everything would be all right. She wanted him to say he’d find Catherine. But he couldn’t make a promise like that, she knew. The city was large and full of evil people, and it could swallow up a small child without a trace. Tears scalded her stinging eyes.
How could she bear such pain?
“We’ve sent for your parents,” the woman said and Sarah realized Malloy was gone. Of course he was. He’d be organizing a search and doing whatever one did when a child had been taken. But where would he start? How could he find her when they had no idea who had done it or where they might have gone? Or, she thought with another spasm of agony, how long they would keep her alive.
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