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“MICHAEL BISHOP. MY father said his family is with the English, so it should be over across the street here, on that corner.”
Thomas pointed, keeping his arm close to his body so only Faith could see the gesture.
Lights illuminated the park around them, but as they walked hand in hand, having no difficulty sneaking out of the house as even the servants slept, she felt bare to the world, as if those same lights exposed her to hidden threats.
It wasn’t even midnight, and she knew that in some parts of the city, there were parties just getting underway, and laughter that rang out from carriages parked along curbs.
What would Michael Bishop’s mother think about a visit from strangers so late?
More importantly, what was Faith going to say to the boy to encourage him to tell them the truth about what happened to that second tube?
Please, Lord, I need you to put the words in my mind and in my heart. If I don’t handle this right, I’ll do more harm than good.
The click of the heels of her shoes echoed in the night, and she looked around her, certain that there were faces staring out of windows as she and Thomas grew closer to the apartments.
A figure loomed from the shadows, appearing suddenly so that even Thomas took a step back, pushing Faith behind him.
“What are you about, sir? We don’t want any trouble.”
The man spoke clearly, proving that he hadn’t been drinking, and didn’t seem to have anything in his hands that might be a weapon.
His tone was protective, and as Faith peered closer around Thomas’s shoulder, she could see that he was younger than she initially thought, maybe closer to her and Thomas’ age.
“We’re looking for Michael Bishop, he’s around twelve years old, and I’m told he lives in this building with his family.”
When the man shook his head, Faith felt a stab of disappointment in her chest. There were so many apartments, and they all looked the same.
If the Bishops weren't in this one, where were they?
“That one’s been with a tough crowd lately. Trying to help his mother, but going about it wrong. But yes, they’re upstairs.”
Thomas nodded and stepped forward, but the man moved to get in his way.
“You don’t mean him any harm, do you? You don’t look like the usual riff raff, but one can’t be too sure these days.”
What was this man worried about, and what had Michael been doing that he disapproved of so strongly?
“Actually, we want to keep him from getting into more trouble. He may have done something wrong, but for a price he couldn’t refuse. It won’t be good for him to continue on in that vein, and I suspect you would agree.”
After a weighted moment, the man nodded slowly and turned around, opening the door to the building and gesturing for them to go in ahead of him.
“2B, up one flight of stairs and to the right. I’ll be right here, so I’ll hear whatever goes on. Don’t forget that.”
Whoever this man might be, the Bishops and everyone else in the building were fortunate to have him guarding them, Faith thought as she offered him a smile.
He merely bent his head, looking away from her as he stood up against the wall.
The stairs were sticky under her feet, and she tried not to think about how dirty they were as Thomas held her hand tightly, one step ahead of her, his head swerving around to look up at the floor above them as they turned on a landing.
Voices rose around them, laughter and shouts, as a baby cried and someone banged on a door inside one of the apartments. A woman yelled an obscenity, and Thomas cringed.
Faith smiled, knowing that his reaction was on her behalf, grateful that they were here together and that hopefully, their difficulties were behind them.
Working together to help Nico, as well as her uncles, wasn’t exactly the way she expected to reconcile with her cousin, but Grandmother Davenport always said the Lord worked in mysterious ways.
If only their grandmother could see her and Thomas now.
She was somewhere between a laugh and a groan at the very idea when Thomas stopped in front of apartment 2B.
“Ready?”
He whispered, as if his voice would carry over all the racket that filled the hall. She nodded, trying to gather her thoughts so she would be able to speak when the door opened.
Thomas knocked firmly, and they waited.
And waited.
He knocked again, louder, and finally, a boy’s voice called out from the other side.
“What do you want?”
Was that Michael?
“Just to speak with someone, that’s all.”
The door jerked open just enough for Faith to see a small face underneath the metal chain that kept the door from moving any further.
“You lost?”
“Oh, come on, Michael, get out of the way. Benjamin, get over here now.”
A woman who looked as if she hadn’t slept in days pushed at Michael, and a taller boy with the same look about him as Michael stood behind her, both of them staring out at Faith and Thomas.
“Don’t know you. What do you want?”
With a hand on her hip, the woman pursed her lips together, as if daring them to answer. A stray lock of her chestnut brown hair fell across her cheek, but she made no move to push it away.
The boy was still and silent.
“We wanted to talk with Michael Bishop, about his courier work. We believe he may have some important information we need.”
The woman stared for another long moment, then fumbled with the chain until it dropped in front of her face and the door swung open.
“Come on, then. He’s just a boy, you know, and I can’t figure what he could tell you. Michael, you better not be in any trouble. That job’s a godsend, it is.”
Faith slipped into the tiny apartment, which had a small wooden table and three matching chairs, along with three mattresses against two walls.
A girl held a toddler at her hip, and Faith thought of the day she met Nico, as she struggled with little Joey much to his amusement.
“Let’s have it. I have my hands full enough without trouble from strangers.”
Thomas was staring at the room, and Faith watched his hand curl into his chest as he took in the sparse furnishings and the children who stared back at him.
“Hello, Michael. My name is Faith, and I live in Newport. I understand that you’ve been carrying deliveries for the Duncans there lately.”
His mother seemed to puff up, sticking her chest out as proudly as any man.
“That’s the right of it, miss. Was picked with only a handful of other boys, and they take him all over because he’s fast. Can run and ride a bicycle like the very devil is after him.”
She smiled and rested a hand on Michael ’s head, but Michael narrowed his eyes at Faith, and she knew she had to tread carefully. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about his work there, and she was sure she knew why.
“I wonder why they had you go so far away, when there are boys there who could do the work. Why don’t they keep you busy here in Manhattan instead?”
“Oh, they do, don’t you worry. That was a special trip, they said, and they paid him extra. But what do you want to know all this for?”
Now his mother mimicked Michael’s glare, and Faith felt as if she was about to make a big mistake.
But she couldn’t stop now.
“We think you may have been told to take a delivery to the wrong person, but it wouldn’t have been your fault,” she went on, noticing how the boy began to slip behind his mother’s back. “We just want to know who told you where you should take it, so we can find the package.”
Benjamin stepped forward, glancing first at his younger brother and then back at Faith.
“We don’t want any trouble. Michael, do you know what this lady’s talking about?”
When the mother slid her fingers into Michael’s hair, stopping his progress and tugging him forward, Faith cringed. Thomas was silent beside her, as if something had caught his tongue, and she wondered if he was going to speak at all.
“I only did what I was told, and there was extra money in it, too. That rat-faced man told my boss that he would have a bonus if he kept his mouth shut, too.”
Now they were getting somewhere, Faith thought, holding back a smile.
It was someone in the Duncan’s company who took a bribe to allow this sabotage.
“There’s a man in jail right now who’s being blamed for stealing that package, and we need you to come forward and tell the police what really happened.”
Michael’s mother pulled him close, the hand that was yanking on his hair now tight around his shoulder.
“Oh no, never mind the police. They won’t listen to a boy like him . . .”
As her voice trailed off, Michael pouted.
“It’s that Italian, isn’t it? He’s the one who gave me those tubes, and anyway, I don’t like Italians. There’s a gang over by Houston gave me a black eye once, for no good reason. So he can rot in jail for all I care.”
His brother grabbed his arm and shook him once, hard.
“You better tell these people the truth, Michael, for now they know where we live, and it’s not as if we can move. Besides, if you’ve done something wrong, you’d better own up to it.”
Faith looked at Thomas, who finally began to come out of whatever fog his mind had drifted into.
“No, not the police. My father is the head of Duncan Courier, and he’s in Washington Square right now. If you’ll come and talk to him, Michael, there won’t be any police involved, I promise.”
How could Thomas say such a thing? Wouldn’t the police have to hear the boy’s story before they would set Nico free?
And what would Mr. Armstrong have to say? If he didn’t believe Michael, he would use his influence to keep Nico locked up.
But wouldn’t he want to find the real culprit, who would probably continue to undermine his business if he wasn’t stopped?
The toddler began to whine, and Faith watched the little girl juggle him against her hip, wondering how she could manage when she wasn’t that much older or bigger than the infant herself.
“If you don’t go, Michael, the police will be at our door anyway. These fancy types know how to get what they want.”
The mother backed away as she spoke, exposing Michael and Benjamin more openly as she wandered over to the little girl, lifting the baby into her arms and patting his back firmly as she held him against her shoulder.
Benjamin stared at Thomas, his expression shifting a little as he considered what her cousin had said, and Faith thought it best to stay quiet and wait for his, or Michael’s, response.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, looking down at his little brother. “Might as well get it over with.”
No one said a word about the late hour, or about waiting until the morning, and Faith was relieved that it had been so easy.
Or had it?
There was a trickle of sweat sliding down her back, between her shoulder blades, and she held back a sigh as she allowed herself to smile at the older boy.
“Thank you. I’m sure my uncle, Mr. Duncan, will be pleased that you’ve come forward.”
“He ought to be paid for his time, miss, and from the looks of you, it won’t hurt you to give the boy a bit of coin, either.”
The mother called out, loud enough for them all to hear but without any bite to her words, as if she didn’t want to upset the child in her arms by her tone.
Without thinking, Faith offered her hand to Michael, who twisted his lips into a pucker before looking up at his brother. He didn’t take her hand, but he didn’t take Benjamin’s either, stalking forward to lead them out of the apartment and down the stairs as if it had all been his own idea.