Chapter Eight

It was a beautiful fall day, with the wildflowers putting on the last show of the year, splashing color here and there across the open fields.

To Kathleen, it seemed ironic that all this beauty should be on display for her as she rode to the manor to learn to kill.

She turned to look at Samuel as he drove. This man who evoked such joy and passion in her was going to spend the afternoon teaching her to use a gun. A long sigh escaped her.

Samuel turned toward her, and the sadness of her eyes told him she was thinking of Mary Elizabeth.

“I wish I had been able to teach her,” he said softly, as he laid his hand over hers on the seat.

Kathleen inhaled sharply. How did he know? How did he know what she was thinking? She experienced a strange lightness in her mind, as if a slight breeze was echoing thru her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, and a warm peace settled over her. She imagined there was a woman whispering in her ear.

“All will be well, dear one. You will be safe with him.”

Kathleen opened her eyes to see that the motorcar had stopped at the village. The shouts of the children seemed to come from far away. She looked at Samuel.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

“Did I sleep?”

“Yes.” Samuel grinned. “You had a nice little nap. Don’t worry. All will be well.”

Kathleen drew a sharp breath. “What did you say?”

Samuel stopped grinning at the sound of confusion in her voice.

“I said all would be well.”

“I…thought I heard…” She broke off as her voice faded.

He touched her face gently as he repeated, “All will be well. Don’t fret.”

The children had been hanging clothes, and Kathleen could hear Mrs. Peters yelling over their excited squeals as she and Samuel stepped out of the motorcar.

“Do not drop those towels on the ground! Be careful. Don’t trip over those baskets!” She finally recognized the futility of shouting as the children swarmed over Samuel.

After a few minutes for them to roughhouse with him, Mrs. Peters shooed them back to their chores, leaving only Celia, her mother Louise, and Kathleen to follow Samuel across the empty field to the shooting range.

Samuel was patient and took his time with the women. Kathleen and Celia were both quick to pick up on the tips he gave them for accuracy.

“Ma’am, you need to tuck that shotgun a little tighter into your shoulder. You don’t want it to slip when it recoils. It could bust your chin.”

Louise tightened her hold on the Browning Auto-5, and sighted down the barrel. The noise of the blast startled a flock of crows that flew away squawking their displeasure at being disturbed.

“There.” Samuel smiled. “Was it as bad as you feared it would be?”

Louise laid the gun down gently on the stand Samuel had built. She rubbed her shoulder carefully. “It was louder than I reckoned it’d be, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow, but I think I can stand all that, if it means I can scare away some no-good varmint.”

Samuel spent another three hours making sure all three women could load, unload, and clean both the shotgun and the Smith & Wesson revolver.

****

It was a beautiful Monday morning, with cool air not yet heated by the fall sunshine, and Samuel wished he could take Kathleen for a drive instead of passing out flyers to business owners.

Emma had made good on her promise to come down to headquarters and help Edith Hampton with creating a likeness of the possible suspect. The drawing was a good match. When he looked at it, Samuel could still see the angry hulk holding the arm Mae had clipped with her little beauty. Well, the man had to be getting some supplies from somewhere, and someone was bound to recognize him, so Samuel would spend the day informing business owners what to do if he was spotted.

It was early afternoon, and the air had warmed considerably, when Samuel got around to Hamish McDuff.

When Samuel entered the office, he was met by a short, barrel-chested man with ginger hair and beard. The man had on a leather apron and was shouting instructions at the top of his lungs. While waving his arms for emphasis, he caught sight of Samuel in the doorway.

Hamish had never had trouble with the law and did not intend to start now. His eyes went to the badge on Samuel’s chest, and he immediately waved his worker back to the warehouse.

“Weel, good day to ye, Officer. What can I be doin’ for ye this fine afternoon?”

Samuel stretched out his hand as he introduced himself. “My name is Detective Hinton, sir, and I am meeting with all the local businesses to inform everyone that we are looking for the suspect in the death of Mary Elizabeth Campbell.”

Hamish nodded. “Ach, the wee little schoolteacher. ’Twas an ugly thing, that. And you say you’d be havin’ a suspect?”

“Yes, sir, I have a flyer here that we would like you to show all your workers. If anyone has any information about this man, we need to know it.” Samuel handed the flyer to Hamish.

Hamish took the flyer, unfolded it, and stared at it for several seconds. His heart began to pound so strongly he was sure the detective could hear it. Sweat began to gather in the small of his back.

He looked up at Samuel with a steady gaze. “Weel, I’ll be passin’ this on to me people, and mayhap someone can he’p ye.”

“So you’ve never seen the man before?”

“Iffen I have, I cannot say,” Hamish replied.

The average person would have found nothing amiss in his reply; however, Samuel was not the average person.

Samuel leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his wide chest, and said, “I see.” He continued to look at the little Scotsman.

Hamish could feel the pace of his own breath quicken, and the sweat was beginning to bead on his brow. He did not break his gaze with the tall man, even though he was afraid those gold eyes could see into his soul. He sent up a quick prayer to St. Augustine of Hippo, then turned and placed the flyer on his desk.

“I’ll be sure to see that each and every one of me folks take a gander at this.”

Samuel grasped the doorknob but paused for several seconds. “I would consider it a personal favor, sir. I mean to catch the man before he can harm another woman. Any help will be greatly appreciated. Good day, sir.”

Hamish had seen the knuckles turn white as the big man squeezed the handle, and now he dropped heavily into his chair as the door closed behind the detective. Saints preserve us. There was no doubt in his mind that his supplier was the man the detective sought, but what to do? Turn him in? Warn him away? The man made him a lot of money, but Hamish was aware an association with the man might cost more than he was willing to pay.

The dark of the moon was still two weeks away, so he had some time to cipher out how he would handle it.

****

The woman lifted the end of the bedstead for the fifteenth time. She could tell her arms had strengthened over the last month. The cabin was small, but she paced from side to side every chance she got. She kept a length of cotton, torn from her dress, under the mattress. She wrapped it around her ankle to keep the chain from chafing when she paced. She was determined to be strong enough to survive her run, for there would be no turning back. Once she broke for it, she had to make it good. He would kill her if he caught her.

He had grabbed her two nights past and fondled her breast for a moment, then placed his hand on her stomach. She had been afraid she would vomit. He knew. He knew about the baby.

She rubbed a hand over the small mound and whispered softly, “Don’t worry, little one. We won’t be here much longer. Mama’s gonna find you a better life.”

****

“So. You think McDuff may know our suspect?”

“Well, sir, he was mighty nervous about something. He didn’t flinch when he studied the flyer, but he did have trouble making eye contact afterwards. Could be he’s just dealin’ in some shady business and doesn’t want the taxman nosin’ around, but he was sure uncomfortable for some reason.”

Captain Lance agreed with Samuel. It would be wise to keep an eye on McDuff for a while. If Samuel believed something was off, then the captain certainly would not argue. He’d trusted the young man’s instincts for several years, and he could think of no reason to doubt them now. The patrol sergeant would have someone swing by McDuff’s regularly for a few weeks.