A Dangerous Legacy

by Elizabeth Camden

  He burst into the cavernous room where forty AP telegraphers swiveled to stare at the man who’d just come barreling into their office.

  Lucy’s station was empty. A cold fist squeezed Colin’s heart, for the implications of that empty chair were chilling. He needed to move fast.

  Colin was shown into the office of Sergeant Richard Palmer, the man who had been investigating the messages Lucy intercepted. Despite the wild-eyed nature of his fears, the overworked sergeant gave Colin his full attention, perking up at the mention of Ridgemoor.

  “Thomas Drake is closely allied with the doctor in charge of Ridgemoor,” Colin said. “I fear Dr. Schroeder won’t hesitate to carry out Mr. Drake’s wishes.”

  “Schroeder?” the sergeant asked. “The fellow in charge of the Ridgemoor Insane Asylum is named Dr. Schroeder?”

  At Colin’s nod, the sergeant grew grim. “The pieces are falling into place,” he said, reaching for a file on the top of a cabinet and opening it for Colin.

  Sergeant Palmer quickly brought him up to speed. Lucy’s information had been turned over to the Secret Service in Washington, who had thrown substantial manpower at the case. A covert investigation into Tom Jr. had begun two months earlier when a congressman reported that Tom tried to bribe him regarding the Panama vote. It gave credibility to Lucy’s report, especially since her information said Tom was tracking the president and members of the ICC. As part of the investigation, a Secret Service agent had interviewed Jacob Drake, who was on bad terms with his family and had been a wealth of information.

  “Jacob Drake has been spying on both his son and grandson for years,” Sergeant Palmer said. “The bad blood started when Thomas Drake tried to have his own father incarcerated in Ridgemoor over a business dispute. Jacob abruptly moved out, and the old man never travels without bodyguards so that his son doesn’t try any of his old tricks. Oakmonte is swarming with Jacob’s spies. He’s also paid off employees at the local post office and telegraph station at a pharmacy in Saratoga.”

  Colin felt a pang for young Floyd, who was apparently not as innocent and idealistic as he seemed.

  “For years he’s been receiving a copy of all telegrams sent from or delivered to Oakmonte,” Sergeant Palmer continued. “All he cared about was any efforts to have him declared mentally incompetent, but after Miss Drake reported the plot, those messages were able to confirm everything. A few days ago, the Secret Service intercepted a letter sent by Tom Jr. to Mr. Moreno. They steamed it open and read that Tom would make no more payments until ‘the mosquito’ was discredited. We gather he has been bribing congressmen to vote against the Panama route for the canal. He said that only after ‘Schroeder swatted the mosquito’ would they be safe enough to continue the plan. We had no idea who this Schroeder fellow was, but now it all makes sense.”

  Being certified a lunatic would do the trick. Colin leaned forward. “Then we need to get to Ridgemoor immediately.”

  Sergeant Palmer shook his head. “Not yet. We know there are at least three additional conspirators, but we don’t know who they are. Tom’s arrest may not foil the rest of the plot. If other men take over—”

  A pounding on the door was quickly followed by a young officer. “Sir, you’ll want to see this right away.”

  Before he could say anything more, the young officer was brushed aside, and Nick Drake shouldered into the room, followed closely by Lucy.

  Colin shot to his feet. “Thank you, God!”

  “Colin?” Lucy asked in a dazed voice. She looked filthy but alert and happy and here, not in a lunatic asylum. He leapt across the room and scooped her into a hug, lifting her from the floor and swinging her in a circle.

  Then the stench hit him. Her clothes were damp, and she looked like she’d been sleeping under a bridge. Nick didn’t look any better. Colin was delighted to see her, but honestly, that smell . . .

  “Where have you been?” he managed to choke out.

  She smiled weakly. “It’s a long story, but to avoid a trip to Ridgemoor, Nick and I made our escape through the sewers. It was an adventure. Now that it’s over, I’d like to file a police report and see if someone can be arrested for it.”

  He didn’t want to help her file a police report. He wanted to hustle her into the nearest hotel with running water for a good hot scrub with soap. Nick, too.

  “Not so fast,” Sergeant Palmer said. “While I’m relieved you’re no longer in danger, your escape has foiled some important plans. It would be best if you were actually admitted to Ridgemoor. Would you be willing?”

  Lucy looked ready to explode. “Are you out of your mind?” she shrieked.

  “Hear me out,” the sergeant said, holding his hands up in self-defense. “Once Dr. Schroeder has you legally committed to the asylum, your cousin is going to initiate a series of events that will lead us to his fellow conspirators. We need to bait the trap for him, and you are the bait.”

  Sergeant Palmer continued to outline the plan, all of which required Tom Jr. to believe that Lucy had been incarcerated so he would once again contact his confederates to carry out the plan to stop the Panama vote. Until Lucy had been neutralized, Tom would remain on the sidelines. They needed Tom to believe he was entirely safe so they could catch everyone involved in the plot.

  Lucy sagged as the implications sank in. Disbelief and exhaustion warred on her face, but she seemed resigned. Colin’s heart turned over in pride as she gave her reluctant consent. “Tell me what I need to do,” she said.

  The plan came together quickly. The men who had kidnapped her, Sneed and Wolfe, were nowhere to be found and might not even be alive, but Dr. Schroeder had seen Lucy escape with the two henchmen hot on her trail. Sergeant Palmer concocted a story based mostly on the truth: that Sneed and Wolfe had followed Lucy down into the sewers, but in this version of events, they succeeded in capturing her and dragging her to the surface. Both men had been injured in the struggle and needed immediate medical treatment. They turned Lucy over to the local police, claiming she was an escaped inmate from Ridgemoor who needed to be returned. In order to make the story ring true, Lucy would need to be taken to Ridgemoor immediately.

  “I can’t even take a bath? Or change clothes?” Lucy asked.

  The sergeant gave a reluctant shake of his head. “You are more convincing precisely as you are.”

  Colin grimaced in sympathy, wishing she had time for the world’s longest, hottest bath. She deserved to be pampered like royalty for the ordeal she’d just endured. Instead, she would be carted off to yet another nightmarish trial, this time in an insane asylum.

  It was a testament to Lucy’s fortitude that she agreed without a fuss. She met Colin’s gaze with sad resignation. “Sometimes challenges are sent to test us,” she said.

  Bedraggled, filthy, and smelling like the sewer she had just survived, Lucy was on her way to Ridgemoor.

  Lucy’s initial reluctance to agree to Sergeant Palmer’s plan was based on her screaming need to get out of this vile dress. Her skin was clammy, itched, and stank like a sewer. She’d give anything for a hot bath and a fresh set of clothing.

  Instead, she agreed to board a carriage, drive to Ridgemoor, and turn herself over to Dr. Schroeder. The sense of camaraderie as she, Colin, Nick, and half a dozen police officers worked on the plan was exhilarating. A team of professionals were on her side. If all went well, not only would the ring of conspirators be arrested, but Uncle Thomas would suffer the consequences for forging a document claiming to be her guardian and forcing her into an insane asylum.

  The plan was to station a police officer at the pharmacy across the street from Ridgemoor, where a telegraph message would be sent the moment Tom Jr. contacted his associates to authorize additional bribes. As soon as the telegram came through, the police would raid Ridgemoor and get her out.

  The pharmacy closed each evening at eight o’clock, meaning there would be no telegraph operator to receive the message overnight. Colin wouldn’t stand for it and insisted on being includ
ed in the operation.

  “I will man the telegraph overnight,” he said. “I don’t want Lucy stuck in that asylum one minute longer than necessary.”

  Her heart turned over at his generosity. Just knowing Colin would be nearby made the ordeal seem not quite as horrific.

  But her confidence began eroding as the officers peeled off to their respective tasks. Nick left to meet with the Secret Service and provide insight into the messages intercepted by Jacob Drake. Others prepared to monitor Tom Jr.’s activities in Albany. One by one they left, and the reality of what she was about to face was inescapable. She was going into Ridgemoor alone. There would be no way to communicate with the outside. She would be at the mercy of Dr. Schroeder and whatever sadistic treatments he used on the mentally disturbed.

  She clenched Colin’s hand on the walk outside to await the carriage. Everything seemed so normal on the sidewalk outside the police station, where the bustle of the city streets was achingly poignant. In a moment she would leave this comfortable world behind to venture into the complete unknown. It was a warm summer day, but a shiver of trepidation raced through her.

  “It’s not too late to back out,” Colin said. “Just say the word, and I’ll get Sergeant Palmer to come up with a different plan.”

  His face was gentle with concern, and she glanced away lest it sap her resolve. “I’ll be all right,” she said through chattering teeth, trying to make herself believe it.

  Just before she boarded the carriage that would take her to the insane asylum, Sergeant Palmer approached her with regret in his eyes and a pair of handcuffs in his grip.

  “It will be more convincing if you arrive wearing these,” he said.

  Colin looked appalled and ready to protest, but Sergeant Palmer was right. It was still alarming as the cold metal clamped around her wrists. Passersby on the street gawked at her, but she had other things to worry about.

  “Next time we see each other, this will all be over,” she said, meeting Colin’s gaze and trying to smile.

  His face was grim. “The next time we see each other, you’ll be a hero.”

  The breath left her in a rush. She didn’t feel like a hero. She felt small and weak and would give anything to run the other way. “All in a day’s work, London.”

  He swept her into a hug. Despite how horrible she smelled, he squeezed her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go.

  A half hour later, she was approaching Ridgemoor, alone in the carriage except for a single policeman. Officer Jakes had drawn the short straw and had to share the interior of the carriage with her, while two others rode outside in the fresh air. He’d been a good sport about it, looking at her with a combination of sympathy and admiration. He tried not to recoil when he got a whiff of her, but she could hardly hold it against him. She’d shudder too.

  “I’ve been told it’s mostly rainwater,” she said.

  Officer Jakes looked dubious. “That so?”

  The carriage slowed as it rolled through the gates of Ridgemoor. Fear caused an uncontrollable quaking deep inside Lucy, which might actually be a good thing, since it would help persuade Dr. Schroeder that she’d been dragged here against her will. The carriage bumped over the old, jutting cobblestones before finally coming to a stop before the front doors of the asylum.

  Officer Jakes met her gaze from the opposite bench. “Ready?”

  All she could do was nod.

  Officer Jakes jerked open the door. “Out!”

  She flinched at his tone. Even knowing it was an act, everything felt terrifyingly real as he dragged her from the carriage. The handcuffs robbed her of balance, and she stumbled onto the ground, banging a knee against a paving stone. With a firm grasp, Officer Jakes hauled her upright, and she got her first look at Ridgemoor.

  The imposing fortress of granite block towered above her, iron bars over the windows. The sight froze the breath in her lungs. There could be no possible escape from this prison. A wrought-iron fence enclosed the property, with spiked finials at the top of each spoke. Even now, a pair of orderlies drew the gates at the front of the drive shut and secured them with a padlock, the clang hurting her ears.

  Officer Jakes grabbed her elbow and propelled her forward, up the path and through the front doors into a lobby that smelled of camphor and mothballs. A uniformed orderly stood from behind the counter.

  “We’ve got an escaped inmate,” Officer Jakes growled.

  The hospital orderly looked confused. “Are you sure she’s one of ours? I’ve never seen her before.”

  “Then get Dr. Schroeder. He was bringing her in last night when she made a run for it.”

  Two minutes later, the doctor scurried into the lobby, his face a mix of astonishment and relief. Officer Jakes struck just the right tone, explaining the heroic efforts of Ridgemoor’s orderlies in dragging the hysterical woman out of the sewers, where she’d fled like a lunatic. During the chase, Sneed broke his ankle and Wolfe got a nasty gash on his arm. Wolfe managed to drag the reluctant Miss Drake to the nearest police station before seeking hospital treatment. The police had reluctantly transported the escaped lunatic to the asylum.

  “We’re glad to get her off our hands,” Officer Jakes said, nudging her deeper into the lobby.

  “I don’t belong here,” she said in a shaking voice to the doctor.

  “Your uncle’s committal papers say otherwise,” he said in that unnervingly calm voice before glancing at the orderly behind the counter. “Get two female attendants to strip her down for a scrubbing. Use plenty of lye, and don’t let her out of the washroom until she’s been scoured clean.”

  Her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected this. “I can wash myself,” she said in a shaking voice, but the orderlies were already closing in, dragging her forward by both arms. A whimper escaped as her toes lifted from the ground. She was supposed to pretend fright, but this was the real thing.

  She glanced at Officer Jakes. For a split second, she saw the sympathy in his eyes, then the orderly dragged her from the room. She was on her own.

  Chapter

  Twenty-two

  Colin glanced at his pocket watch. It had been ten hours since Lucy had walked into the Ridgemoor Insane Asylum. He’d spent that time loitering in the doorway of the pharmacy directly across the street from Ridgemoor. With its ominous granite blocks and bars over the windows, Ridgemoor looked like it belonged in a gothic horror story.

  He’d never seen anything so courageous as when Lucy let herself be dragged through the heavy front doors that slammed behind her with such force that he heard them from across the street.

  All afternoon he had stared at the windows, trying to get a glimpse of her. Every now and then, he’d see the pale face of an inmate gazing through the iron bars on the upper floors of the asylum. From this distance it was impossible to recognize if any of them were Lucy, but he wanted to remain here in the doorway where she could see him, just in case she was able to find her way to a window. Wearing his brown-tinted spectacles and a wool cap pulled low over his forehead, he was completely unrecognizable as the fashionable British aristocrat Dr. Schroeder had met at Oakmonte.

  When the pharmacy closed at eight o’clock, Colin wandered inside to take over the telegraph duties. The instant Tom Jr. contacted his associates, word would be sent to the pharmacy to get Lucy out. It might take a day, or it might take a week. Either way, during the overnight hours, Colin would be here. He still had to report to Reuters each day, so he would try to steal a few snatches of sleep while he waited. The telegraph buzzer would rouse him the moment Lucy’s ordeal was over.

  Colin glared at the forbidding asylum across the street. He had borrowed Nick Drake’s flashlight and fiddled with the switch on its side until he figured out how to work it properly. Angling the light in Ridgemoor’s direction, he flicked it on and off, pressing out a simple message in Morse code.

  Hang in there, Yankee.

  He doubted she could see it, but merely sending the message made him feel bette
r.

  Lucy curled on a thin cot, shivering beneath a threadbare sheet. Every square inch of her skin hurt from the harsh scrubbing with lye soap, but at least it was over. She’d never been so humiliated in her life as when the orderlies dragged her into a tile lavatory, where a pair of female attendants stripped her naked and forced her to stand beneath an icy blast of water. After a thorough drenching, they brought out the lye soap and a long-handled boar bristle brush. They ignored her protests that she could wash herself and scrubbed until her skin was raw. It hurt even worse when they turned on the cold water to rinse the soap away. Then they washed her hair in the same rough manner.

  She had no idea what they’d done with her clothing, but the only thing she was given to wear was a loose cotton smock. It was identical to the shapeless smocks worn by the other three women sharing her cell. She’d been terrified when the matrons pushed her inside the room, which contained nothing but four iron bedsteads and three strange women. Each bed had a thin mattress, an oilcloth sheet, and a single pillow. The clang of the door as it locked behind her was chilling. The reality of her confinement made it hard to breathe.

  It didn’t take long to learn that two of the women sharing her cell were profoundly disturbed. One rocked incessantly on her cot as she gaped at Lucy through frightened eyes, while the other sang an endless lullaby into the palm of her hand.

  “You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want,” the third woman said. She was a redheaded girl with a Brooklyn accent and hard eyes. Her name was Ruby. She was sixteen years old and had been sent here four months earlier after miscarrying a baby. It was the second time Ruby had miscarried, and her parents sent her to Ridgemoor for being incorrigible.

  How many other men and women had been incarcerated here because they were inconvenient? It had happened to Lucy’s father, and if it hadn’t been for Nick’s heroism, it would have happened to her as well. It sickened her, and for the hundredth time since stepping through Ridgemoor’s doors, she wished Colin were here. It felt like she had entered another world, but she knew he was only a stone’s throw away at the pharmacy across the street. When she got off her cot to look out the window for a glimpse of him, the girl singing into her palm went into hysterics, ordering Lucy back onto her cot with a firm shove and a smack across the face.