by Jody Hedlund
“I’ll let you glimpse her face,” he said hesitantly, “but only after I have the chance to evaluate the situation first.”
Elbridge had joined them, and he slipped his arm around Susanna’s waist. “I won’t allow it. Susanna will stay right here by my side.”
For once, Ben was relieved at Elbridge’s possessiveness, and he couldn’t muster the frustration from earlier in the evening whenever he’d seen Elbridge hanging on Susanna.
Susanna tried to shrug out of her cousin’s embrace, yet he pulled her closer into the crook of his arm.
“Stay with Elbridge.” Ben hoped to convey a calmness he didn’t have. But her eyes contained turmoil that was crashing and foaming like the nearby waves on the shore. There would be no calming her.
Her insistence upon coming with him certainly wasn’t helping to keep their activities regarding Dotty as clandestine as he’d hoped. Surely Elbridge would suspect something now.
Ben tramped toward his father and the other farmers who’d gathered at the shore. The cold, salty sea breeze blew against his face and sent chills down his spine.
His father shook his head, his weathered face wrinkled with sadness. “Looks like she died the same way as the last girl.”
“I told you we should have hung Hermit Crab Joe,” mumbled one of the farmers.
“Can’t blame Joe this time,” Ben said, not caring that his tone was sharp. “I swung by the parsonage on the way here, and Joe was with Parson Wibird. He’s been there all day and all evening.”
Ben had known the men would point the finger at Joe first, and this time he was determined not to let the old fisherman take the blame.
“Maybe he murdered her last night,” suggested one of the others.
“This is a recent murder,” his father said. “If she’d been here all day, someone would have seen her earlier. And besides, if she’d lain here overnight, her blood would have dried by now.”
Ben parted the tall grass, not wanting to look at the carnage, but knowing he had no choice.
A half-clad woman lay in an awkward sprawl. Her wet skirt twisted around her thighs, and her bodice was ripped, revealing too much of her flesh. He had no doubt she’d been violated, just like the last murder victim.
Disgust churned through his stomach.
Rain-drenched hair lay plastered to a bruised neck and a pretty face as fragile and pale as cracked porcelain. The woman’s eyes were open and stared unseeingly at the sky overhead.
“Where’s the blood?” he asked, trying to make himself remain objective and distant even though everything within him wanted to lash out at whoever was responsible.
“Her feet.” His father stepped on the wilted sea grass, pushed it aside, and revealed bloodied, lacerated feet. “She’s missing her shoes.”
Dotty. So the murderer had taken her shoes again, shoes Susanna had given the young runaway.
Ben gulped a breath of the frigid night air and peered straight ahead to the waves slapping the beach. Dark clouds billowed past the faint moon, shrouding the nightmarish scene. If only he could make it truly disappear.
The inquisitive gazes of his father and the other men smoldered through him to his heart. Ever since he’d returned to Braintree after his time at Harvard and his lawyer training, they’d started looking to him for answers and advice.
“Ben?” His father’s voice contained only the utmost respect. “We’ll do whatever you think is best.”
Ben met his father’s blue eyes, so much like his own—only wiser and kinder. He knew his father was proud of him for all he’d already accomplished. To his father and the other farmers of Braintree, Ben was already famous, had already made a name for himself. They certainly didn’t expect any more of him.
It was men like Elbridge who considered him ignorant.
He wanted to be angry at Elbridge for barging in on him just when he’d finally mustered the courage to pull Hannah aside and propose to her. And yet he’d been strangely relieved at the interruption and had decided to put off the proposal for another night.
“I concur. She’s obviously been murdered the same way as the last girl,” Ben finally said. “Chased, violated, and then strangled to death.”
“Chased?” Susanna struggled to pull away from Elbridge.
Ben gave a curt nod. He was afraid Susanna’s efforts to help Dotty had been for naught.
“If she’s been murdered the same way as the last girl,” the farmer said, holding his lantern higher, “then we know Hermit Crab Joe did it.”
“How many times do I need to tell everyone? Joe didn’t kill the last victim.” Ben tried to keep from shouting, but he was much louder than he’d anticipated. “And now, fortunately, Joe’s got an alibi who will verify he wasn’t anywhere near this beach or near this girl.”
“If Joe didn’t kill the girls”—his father spoke in the same level tone he always used—“then who could it be?”
Whoever it was obviously had some twisted pleasure in taking his victim’s shoes and chasing them barefooted.
“I don’t yet know who’s responsible for both of the murders,” Ben said. “But I do have a lead. With a little investigating I’ll likely be able to narrow my search.”
Surely he could discover the man Mr. Lovelace had hired. And if Mr. Lovelace wouldn’t disclose the name, he could check around with other merchants to find the information he needed.
But even as Ben plotted his course of action for his next visit to Boston, nagging doubt plagued him. He couldn’t shake the question that if the murderer really was the same man Mr. Lovelace had hired to track Dotty, why kill her and his other victim instead of returning them for the monetary reward?
“May I see the woman?” Susanna pleaded, straining to release herself from Elbridge’s hold.
Ben’s father glanced at Susanna and then back at Ben, his brow rising with unasked questions.
“Father, this is Susanna Smith,” Ben said, fumbling for the words to explain Susanna’s presence without giving away too much information about her part in sheltering Dotty. “She and her mother, Mrs. Smith, help many of the poor widows and young women of their community. And Susanna is worried the victim might be someone she knows.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Even so, Ben couldn’t meet his father’s gaze.
Somehow Susanna managed to extricate herself from Elbridge’s grip. And before Ben could stop her, she darted toward the body.
“Wait!” He lunged for her.
“Susanna,” Elbridge called, “I command you to stop this instant.”
But she’d already reached the young woman and skidded to an ungracious halt, taking in the ugly scene in one swooping glance. Her eyes widened and she brought trembling fingers to her mouth, stifling a cry.
Ben wanted to grab her and turn her away, but Elbridge quickly put a hand on her shoulder, claiming her.
Instead of finding comfort in Elbridge’s open and waiting arms, she pushed away from him, stumbled toward Ben, and fell against his chest. She buried her face into his shoulder, and her body shook violently against his.
He knew he ought to direct her to Elbridge. But he couldn’t keep from wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. He pressed his nose into the hood of her cloak and drew in the scent of roseleaf.
Elbridge’s brows arched up into his cocked hat and then came quickly down into a sharp V.
His father glanced between him and Elbridge and then settled upon Susanna.
Ben couldn’t bear to imagine what his father was thinking. Although he hadn’t said anything to his father about Hannah Quincy, surely he’d heard the rumors about his courtship of the wealthy young woman. And now here he was holding Susanna Smith.
She clutched the front of his overcoat, her breathing labored.
He brushed aside the wisps of her hair that had blown free. “I’m sorry, Susanna.”
He didn’t have to look at Elbridge to know he was only making more of an enemy of the man than he already had.
“I’m so sorry for that young woman too,” Susanna whispered near his ear. Her warm breath tingled his skin. “But I’m relieved she’s not Dotty.”
“She’s not?” Ben pulled back from her.
Susanna shook her head. “I’ve never seen that woman before.”
“Then who is it?” And more important, who was the monster ravishing these pretty young women?
“I wish I knew. Hence I must return home,” she said softly so that no one else could hear their conversation. “I need to make sure Dotty’s safe and unharmed.”
“I don’t think it’s wise for you to be involved with her any longer.” If the murderer of the two women was indeed the same man who’d been chasing Dotty, then he was a twisted, evil man—and Susanna could be placing her own life in jeopardy by helping the young runaway.
“What would you have me do?” she asked. “I can’t allow her to fend for herself, can I? Not when she is clearly in so much danger.”
He admired Susanna for her willingness to help those less fortunate than herself. Nevertheless, the situation had become too precarious. A murderer was roaming the countryside, and Ben had the premonition it wasn’t a matter of if he would strike again but when.
“My dear cousin,” Elbridge said, stepping behind Susanna, “I really must insist on taking you back to Grandmother Eve’s.”
Elbridge glared down his nose at Ben. In the overcast night, the shadows lining Elbridge’s face made his disapproval and dislike of Ben more prominent.
“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want you to be here.” Elbridge touched Susanna’s elbow. “This is no place for a lady.”
From beneath the hood of her cape, Susanna’s eyes flashed with uncertainty.
For all her spirit, she still accepted the authority and approval of her mother—even when the woman was absent.
“Come,” Elbridge said gently. “If we go now, I’ll be sure to stay silent about your unseemly display with a man who’s practically engaged.”
“Practically?” She allowed Elbridge to tug her away.
Ben had to force himself not to pull her back into his arms. The damp ocean breeze moved in to replace her warmth with its biting chill. “I’m not engaged yet. Just ask Elbridge.”
Elbridge smirked. “If you’re planning to propose to one woman, don’t you think it’s rather immodest to frolic in public with another? What if word of your display reached my dear sister, Hannah?”
“I’m sure you’ll make it your duty to personally deliver the rumor.”
Susanna glanced to his father and the others who were watching the exchange like playgoers at the theater. In fact, if the situation hadn’t been so serious, Ben might have classified the look on his father’s face as humorous.
Elbridge drew her farther away from Ben. “My dear cousin, I must ask that you refrain from any future embraces with Mr. Ross.”
The muscles in Ben’s jaw flexed. “She’s done nothing for which to be ashamed. You’re merely upset that she took comfort with me instead of you.”
Elbridge puffed out his chest like a scavenging sea gull. “There can be nothing comforting about you, Ross.”
“Oh, stop it, Elbridge.” Susanna wrenched out of his grasp. “I may not see eye to eye with Mr. Ross on some issues, but there’s nothing wrong with our being friends, is there?”
As she asked the question, her inky eyes held his, and he knew she’d meant the question for him and him alone.
Friends? With Susanna Smith?
She’d asked him that once before, and he hadn’t believed it was possible.
Cranch’s lantern illuminated her fine complexion, her slender cheeks, and a tantalizing stretch of her neck that dipped down to her triple strand of pearls.
He was surprised to realize the sight of the pearls hadn’t bothered him all evening. Even now, the jewels didn’t elicit any reaction in him the way they had initially—when they’d seemed pretentious.
Was it possible he could set aside his reservations about her?
Apparently she was willing to offer him the hand of friendship in spite of his political leanings, something he hadn’t deemed possible.
Elbridge shook his head at Susanna and his frown deepened.
“Of course we can be friends,” Ben said quickly, unwilling to let Elbridge interfere again.
A glimmer sprang into Susanna’s eyes, and her mouth curved up just slightly on one side—the start of a smile.
In spite of the grimness of the circumstances, Ben couldn’t keep from wishing her smile would blossom all the way so he could see her dimple.
Elbridge tugged Susanna toward their horses.
As he watched her stumble along, his heart drummed with what was becoming an all too familiar longing for her.
Could he really just be friends with her and nothing more? When every time he was around her he could hardly keep from wanting to hold her?
A gust of wind slapped his face, reminding him of the gravity of the situation. And the danger . . .
His father and the others remained silent as they watched Elbridge help Susanna mount and lead her away.
Finally his father spoke. “Friendship is a good place to start.” He wiped his mouth as if trying to contain a grin.
There was a chorus of ayes from the men.
A cord of embarrassment wrapped around Ben, and he shrugged, hoping he appeared more nonchalant than he felt.
How would he ever stay mere friends with such a beautiful woman? He had a feeling it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do.
They wrapped the body in a sheet and left it with the constable in his shed with guarantees that on the morrow he would search the coast for any further clues that might reveal the murderer.
“I’m confident you’ll find the right man to hold accountable for these crimes,” his father said as they trudged down the dark Braintree lane toward home.
“Let’s hope so.” Ben hunched into his cloak, the chill of the night piercing through the homespun wool. He led his horse behind him and slowed his gait to match that of his father.
He wouldn’t have the chance to investigate until he returned from riding circuit with the judges. And in the meantime he’d have to pray nothing else happened and that Susanna and Dotty would use extreme caution and stay safe.
The clop of hooves and the distant bark of a hound echoed in the crisp fall air, which was quickly turning into winter. Even the scent of woodsmoke from a nearby farmhouse had taken on a distinct life against the changing of the seasons.
“So, you’re in love with the Smith girl?”
Ben stumbled at his father’s question that was really more of a statement. “No. Not at all.” He forced a short laugh. “Of course I’m not in love with Susanna Smith.”
“Well, you certainly fooled me tonight.”
“I cannot deny I’m attracted to Susanna,” he admitted. “Who wouldn’t be? She’s intelligent, witty, and interesting.”
“She sounds like the perfect match for you.”
He wanted to agree. Susanna was everything Hannah was not. He thought about her more than he should. And even in her grandfather’s study earlier, he’d felt a pull toward her that was unbearably strong and difficult to resist.
He knew he needed to control himself better around Susanna. Surely he would have less trouble with his attraction once he was finally engaged to Hannah.
“I’m in the process of trying to propose marriage to Hannah Quincy.”
His father plodded forward without missing a step. “Then you love Miss Quincy?”
Did he love Hannah? Ben shook his head. “Sometimes there are factors more important than love.”
“Then you are in love with her wealth rather than her person?”
Ben wanted to rebut his father’s words—similar to those of Parson Wibird from earlier in the day—but something about his father’s bluntness kept him from doing so. “Hannah Quincy will give me what I currently lack, namely the status and approval of my peers.
”
His father was silent for a long moment, the steady scraping of their boots against the dirt road reminding Ben of the steadiness of the man by his side. He was a deacon of the church and had been the selectman of the town for years. There was not a nobler or more respected man among the community.
“There’s more than one way to earn the approval of your peers.” His father spoke slowly as if weighing his words carefully. “And often the best way is through strength of character.”
His father’s integrity, honesty, and diligence had gained him his reputation among the Braintree farmers. Maybe he hadn’t risen higher in status, but he was held in the highest esteem by his friends.
“Just remember whose approval matters the most, and ask yourself whether you should be seeking man’s favor or God’s.”
As his father’s words sank deep inside him, Ben didn’t even try to formulate a response.
They rounded the winding road lined with the stone wall that bordered their farm. Ben stared over the dark barren fields resting after the harvest.
It was land. It was better than nothing.
Even so, Ben couldn’t keep from longing for more for his future. Surely his father wanted more for him as well. He hadn’t sold acreage to pay for his education only to have Ben end up a farmer in Braintree.
“You’re a man now, son,” his father said at last. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.”
Ben nodded, hoping he wouldn’t let his father down.
Chapter
12
Susanna stood in the enclosed yard and watched the girls hasten down the winding road, the wind teasing the ribbons that dangled from their straw hats. They didn’t chatter and play as they usually did. Instead they huddled together and scurried through the last of the fallen leaves, their gazes darting to the scraggly oaks and maples. Without leaves, the bare branches were gnarled and reached twisted fingers toward the girls as if to snag them.
“Keep them safe . . .” Susanna whispered a prayer through the trembling in her heart. Even with her father riding alongside them on his way to the tavern, no one could rest easy after last week’s murder.