Twelve

What sort of game was Amos playing? Torey frowned and reread the telegram. It made no more sense today than it had a week ago when she’d received it:

Does Simon Crawford enjoy the theatre? STOP Ask him, and I’ll be waiting for you to come home STOP

Why would Amos care? Besides, if he thought anything would induce her to go back home, he was sorely mistaken.

With a sigh, she slipped the telegram back under her pillow. Still reading the question in her mind, she shrugged into her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She could hear the children scuffling around in the hallway. No doubt trying to gather the courage to knock on her door and hurry her along.

She smiled. Simon had borrowed a wagon, and today they were going to the Clark Street Bridge to buy a Christmas tree. The Chicago River famously hosted the Christmas ship. Every year, the captain brought trees from Michigan and sold them right off the deck. It was quite the custom, and many of Torey’s friends and neighbors considered the ship’s docking to be the beginning of the Christmas season.

Since Thanksgiving Day, the excitement had been building in the children. Simon had promised to take them to pick out a tree today. And of course, he’d insisted Torey ride along.

Torey checked her reflection in the vanity mirror. Satisfied that her hair was in place, she stepped into the hallway, pulling her gloves from her pockets.

“Are you finally ready?” Toby asked, his eyes shining with anticipation. He looked like a Roman candle about to go off.

“I sure am.” Torey grinned at the look of relief crossing his features. “What about Mr. Crawford?”

“Yep. He’s already in the wagon.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting any longer.” She ruffled his shock-white hair. “Put on your hat.”

He complied, and the boys nearly flew down the stairs, each trying to move ahead of the other two.

“Careful!” Torey shouted. She shook her head, her lips twitching. “Those boys. They have one speed—fast.”

Melissa grinned. “That’s the truth.”

Sarah reached up and took Torey’s hand. “ ’Cept at chore time,” she said with a grin.

The three of them giggled all the way down the steps.

Though fresh snow had fallen the night before, the sun shone brilliantly this morning. Torey took a deep breath of the crisp, clean air.

“It’s about time,” Simon said good-naturedly as he hopped down from the driver’s seat. “Children in the back of the wagon.” He bowed to Torey. “Your chariot awaits you, Milady.”

Giggles from the children brought a rush of warmth to Torey’s cheeks. She kept her gaze away from Simon’s as she accepted his help into the seat.

He took his place beside her, grabbed the reins, and winked at her as he turned to the children. “I want to hear everyone singing, ‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaay.’ ” The children joined in, making a merry noise.

They turned many, many heads during the five-mile trip between the house and Clark Street, but Torey didn’t care. She was thrilled that the children were enjoying themselves. This had to be the worst time of year for children whose parents were dead and whose uncle worked incessantly to make ends meet.

She had tucked money aside to buy gifts. Her only sorrow was that she couldn’t buy Toby the bicycle he so desperately wanted. If only Amos hadn’t turned out to be such a crook and hadn’t gambled away her inheritance. Dread hit her stomach at his unwelcome intrusion into her otherwise perfect morning. But at the reminder of him, the words on the telegram scrolled across her mind.

Simon was just singing the last bar of “Silent Night, Holy Night.” The children were peaceful and quietly watched the snowy road roll by. Torey touched Simon’s arm.

He looked at her, and Torey returned his gaze, transfixed by the longing in his eyes. “Yes?” he said, just above a whisper.

“I–I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

Gathering a steadying breath, she forged ahead. “D–do you like the theatre?”

His face clouded. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I just wondered.”

“You just wondered?” The cynicism in his tone took her aback.

“Yes.” Torey looked down at her lap. “Please, forget I asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She felt his hand cup her face and she turned. He studied her, brow furrowed. “Are you telling me you don’t know how my father died?”

Torey’s pulse began to race. She shook her head.

He released her and looked toward the road. Releasing a sigh, he began, “My father and I went to see a Verdi opera at the auditorium one night. Father was feeling a bit poorly by the time it was over, so I told him to wait in the booth while I pushed through the crowd and ordered the hackney to take us home. Paul, the driver, is usually on time, but that night he was delayed, so I waited a few extra minutes for him to show up.”

Panic hit Torey’s stomach. Fear. Torment. She wanted to cover her ears and scream at the top of her lungs so she didn’t have to hear the rest of the all-too-familiar story. By the look of horror on Simon’s face, Torey knew he was reliving the incident.

She saw it too—every second of that terrible night. Tears filled her eyes. Amos knows! That’s why he thought she’d hitched herself to the Crawfords—to somehow extort money from their tragedy. Oh, what a wretched, evil man her step-father was!

“I–I found him on the floor, stabbed through the chest.” A shudder began deep within Simon as he revealed the last of his tale. “If only I had gotten there sooner. I might have scared the thief away. Or maybe I could have saved my father.”

“There was nothing you could do, Simon. He was dead instantly.”

He turned to her sharply, and Torey realized her mistake. In her effort to comfort him, she’d almost given herself away.

“What do you mean?” he demanded. “How could you possibly know if he died instantly or not?”

“Y–you said you found him with a knife in his chest. I just assumed. I’m sorry.”

“Wookie!” The sound of Sarah’s excited voice broke the tension for the moment, and Torey turned her attention forward, taking little pleasure in the beautiful ship docked at the bridge and filled with evergreens waiting to become Christmas trees.

Simon didn’t look at her as he helped her from the wagon. Torey felt like weeping. She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. The children ran, boarding the ship ahead of Simon and Torey.

“Simon, I—”

“We can discuss it later, Miss Mitchell. Let’s not put a damper on the children’s day.”

Torey nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

Silently, they walked the gangplank and went their separate ways once they stepped on deck. For Torey, the day had lost its magic. Disappointment and despair made poor companions as she walked between the rows of evergreens. The beauty of the snow-tipped branches failed to take her breath away as it would have even an hour ago.

Dear Lord, what will I do? How could I have fallen in love with the son of the man Amos killed? It’s difficult not to question Your ways in this. My heart wants to ask how You could let this happen. But the part of me that is learning to trust You knows that You are sovereign and have Your reasons. Help me, Lord. And please help Simon when he learns the truth.

Tears accompanied the silent plea. As quickly as she wiped them away, they were replaced, and she couldn’t stop the onslaught.

Sudden pain shot through her arm, and she felt a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream, or I’ll slit your throat. Do you understand?” Fear gripped her and held her fast as she recognized the voice and got a whiff of the brandy-scented breath.

Torey nodded, feeling the cold steel pressed again the tender skin of her neck.

Amos uncovered her mouth but held her fast. “Let’s go to the back of the ship behind those trees.” He pressed her arm, and she accompanied him with no protest or struggle, knowing he couldn’t get her off the ship without Simon spotting them. A disturbing thought came to her. In light of their earlier conversation, would Simon bother to attempt to stop her if Amos tried to kidnap her? How far did his suspicions go?

When they reached their destination, Amos jerked her around roughly. His eyes glittered hard. “There’s no one to save you this time.”

“Wh–what do you want?”

“Did you get my message?”

Loathe to grant him mercenary pleasure, Torey was sorely tempted to lie. She stared back unblinking. He let out a short laugh. “I see you received it. And did you ask young Mr. Crawford how he enjoys the theatre?”

She wanted to slap the sneer from his face. Why had she never noticed what an unattractive man he was? At one time, she’d been proud when her friends called Amos her father. When they said he and her mother made a handsome couple. Now, the sight of him sickened her.

Again, he’d read her correctly. “And so you know the truth about the man at the theatre that night.”

“Why did you do it?” She barely recognized the sound of her voice.

“As you are aware by now, your mother’s money is gone. Including your inheritance.”

He didn’t bother to pretend remorse, and Torey didn’t expect any such thing. She listened, trying to make sense of what would cause someone to commit the act she’d witnessed of Amos. He went on. “I convinced several wealthy men in town to back me in a business venture. It was supposed to be a sure thing. But before I could make good, I discovered my partner betrayed me. He took the money and left—out of the country by now, I am sure.”

Torey couldn’t help enjoying the irony that the crook had been robbed. Her pleasure was short-lived, however, when she realized that the situation had led to Amos’s actions that night.

“No doubt you are aware that Mr. Crawford was president of the Savings and Loan.”

She nodded.

“I went to him that day, humbled myself before him.” His eyes flashed his anger. “He refused to loan me the money to pay my debts.”

“So you decided to kill him?” Torey’s voice rose in incredulity.

“No, I overheard Simon telling a fellow worker that he and his father would be attending the opera that evening. I thought if Mr. Crawford saw me in the same social circle as himself, he might understand that I’m not some two-bit gambler.”

“A two-bit gambler? You borrowed money to play cards?”

“Of course not. Horses.”

“Y–your business venture was a horse?” Torey couldn’t contain her revulsion at the thought.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ll not have you standing in judgment of me.”

Torey winced as his fingers bit cruelly into her arm. “I’m not standing in judgment, Amos.”

He relaxed his grip. She released a slow breath.

“That horse was a sure thing. It had never lost a race. And it won that day. Do you know how rich I would have been if that little weasel hadn’t stolen from me? I was desperate. I went to Mr. Crawford a broken man. And what did he do? He looked at me as though I were no better than a two-bit gambler in a card game.”

Torey looked past him, and her breath caught. Mike stood at the end of the row of trees, a scowl on his face. She didn’t know how much he’d heard, but he looked as though he might come to her rescue. Shaking her head as hard as she dared, she attempted to discourage him. To her relief, he slowly backed away.

“And so that brings us to you, my dear.”

Jerking her attention back to Amos, Torey nodded as though she’d heard everything. “I told you I’m happy with the Crawfords.”

“Surely you realize it isn’t possible for you to stay there now.”

“I–I just don’t know. I suppose you’re right.” Though she hated to admit it, Amos had a point. How on earth was she going to look Mrs. Crawford or Simon in the eye after what she’d discovered today?

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Amos said. “As much as I’d like to force you home right now, I don’t want anyone to think you’ve been kidnapped and come looking for you. So, you’ll go to the Crawford home and quit. Explain that you’ve decided to go home.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Crawford will believe that.”

“Make her believe it!” The snarl on his face conveyed utter evil.

Torey drew back. “Yes, Amos.”

“And don’t think you can run away again. I will be following you, as I did today.” He sneered. “When you walk out the door, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Not doubting his words one bit, Torey shuddered. Defeat filtered through her.

“Why do you want me home, Amos? What are these plans you have for me?”

“I suppose I can tell you. Mr. Shepherd wants you, and he’s willing to pay off my debts when I deliver you to him.”

A gasp escaped Torey’s lips. “You would sell me?” Had the man no scruples left? He’d squandered her inheritance, had killed a man, and now this?

“I wish there were another way. But I’m afraid I have no choice, my dear.” Amos leered. “But don’t worry. Mr. Shepherd has assured me he will treat you very well—and he is even willing to marry you. As long as you give him no trouble.”

“I won’t do it, Amos! I won’t marry a man I don’t love just to pay off your debts.”

In a flash, his hand shot out, landing hard across her cheek.

“You will do as you’re told.”

She stood her ground. “I won’t. I’m in love with Simon.” She glared at Amos. “I realize that I will never have him now. But I won’t give myself to another man as long as I live.”

His eyes glittered, and she thought he might slap her again. Instead, he leaned forward until she could feel his breath hot on her face. “It would be terrible if the same fate befell young Mr. Crawford as did his father.”

Cold fear slipped down Torey’s spine. “Are you saying. . . ?”

“Make no mistake. I have nothing to lose. If you don’t go willingly to Mr. Shepherd, I’m a dead man anyway. Killing another man won’t make a difference as far as I’m concerned. It’s your choice.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I will do as you ask.”

“Good girl. Now what are you going to say to the old lady?”

Resentment burned in Torey at Amos’s disrespectful manner toward Mrs. Crawford. “I’ll tell her I want to go home.”

“Good. Don’t dawdle. Do it immediately. I’ll be waiting for you just after sundown.”

“Yes, Amos.”

“And, Torey? If you tell anyone that I killed Mr. Crawford, I will most certainly stress your involvement in the murder. You will not get away punishment free.”

“I know, Amos.” If he only knew how little she cared about that right now. All she cared about was keeping Simon safe.

❧

Shaking in anger, Simon hurried across the deck before Torey emerged from the row of trees. He’d been concerned for her! He’d actually been concerned when Mike had told him Torey was talking to a man and it looked like she was upset about something. After the incident a couple of weeks earlier where Nat had seen her talking to a man and she’d fainted in fear, he’d been ready to do whatever he had to do in order to save her.

All these weeks, he’d come to believe Torey cared about him. She’d played them for fools. The first night, she’d gained Mother’s sympathy by appearing distraught and homeless. She’d wormed her way into his heart so that he’d actually been toying with the idea of proposing marriage. True, they hadn’t formally courted, but their relationship had developed under unusual conditions, considering they lived in the same house. She’d played that one well.

But what did she want? Why had she come in the first place? Was their plan that she infiltrate the home and steal documents from Father’s study? He’d like to confront her. To force her to tell him the truth. But he wouldn’t. No, he’d let the police deal with her and the man. The murderer. Rage burned within his chest.

He wished he’d have overheard more, but he only reached the last row of trees in time to hear the man tell her he’d meet her at sundown. That was hours away. He had time to take the children home and call the police while everyone decorated the tree.

❧

Amos watched Torey ride away with Simon Crawford and the wagon full of children. From somewhere deep in the recesses of his memory, an unwelcome thought shot to the forefront. He remembered his wife’s dying request: “Promise me you’ll always take care of her.”

He’d lifted her weak, clammy hand to his lips and smiled through tears. “I promise, my love.” He had trembled, fighting tears as he watched the life slip from the woman he loved.

Her once lovely, full lips had curved into a smile of peace at his reassurance that Torey would be cared for.

Guilt nipped at him as he walked down the gangplank and into the crowd. But with no money to hire a hackney, and his horses sold long ago, he had a five-mile walk to the Crawfords’. Five miles to give his conscience time to abate. Five miles. Worth every step in order to make sure Torey didn’t run away again. He’d watch the house all day if he had to. Just in case her love for Simon Crawford wasn’t as strong as she’d indicated, and she decided his life wasn’t worth the effort of marrying John Shepherd, after all.

A satisfied smile curved his lips. By tomorrow, all his troubles would be over.