Their breathing melded with the sounds of evening as they dropped from the streetcar to the cobbled road. Lou’s hand tightened around Mary’s smaller one. He couldn’t believe she’d come with him, that he was actually going to bring her with while he interrogated this guy.
Her hand was warm in his as they stepped near a brick building. The light was waning, turning into a smoky dusk. He searched for the bowler hat. People still lingered outside, some going to work, others leaving after a hard day.
Businesses lined this street. Women clicked down the sidewalk in heels. Men in suits and eyeglasses who’d stayed longer than expected locked their offices for the night. Still no hat. The man reached medium height. He’d blend in well.
Lou groaned. Mary’s fingers flexed in his.
“He went that way,” she whispered. Her chin nudged to the right.
He followed the direction of her gaze and spotted a dark alley ahead, hidden between two narrow buildings. He strode forward, releasing her hand. When they reached the crevice, he turned to her.
“Stay here.”
“I should go with you.” Her eyes shone black in the encroaching night.
“Nothing can happen to you.” That knowledge resounded through him. No matter what, she had to stay safe. “You can keep an eye out. Stay here, in the shadows.” He moved her inside the alley, up against the wall. “No one will see you, but you’ll see them.”
Gut tight, he left her there, clutching her dress and looking nervous. It couldn’t be helped, though. The man waiting at the end of the alley had something to impart. He wouldn’t have followed Lou otherwise.
He edged against the wall, reaching for his revolver. Nothing stirred in the alley. The light from the street only reached so far. A dank, putrid smell pervaded his senses. He blocked it, focusing on the barely discernible shadow at the end of the alley.
Flattening his back, he peeked at Mary. He could barely see her. That was good. He whipped his gaze the other way.
“You wanted to talk,” he asked, keeping his voice low, letting the natural echoes carry his words to the other party.
A clatter punctuated the stillness. Then rustling. Finally, Lou’s eyes adjusted and he could see the outline of a hat as the man moved near. He adjusted his gun, keeping it low at his hip and aimed lower. His trigger finger flexed against the revolver’s hilt.
“Took you long enough.” The Irish lilt in Bowler Hat’s words confirmed Lou’s thoughts on his identity. The guy sidled up, hands in the air. “I’m not armed, so you can lower your weapon. I just need to talk.”
Lou kept his revolver aimed. “Come closer.”
“I’m coming, mister.” Scuffling ensued, and then the man stood opposite him. The odor of fish guts clung to him. Dusk had settled long ago, marking the way for darkness to creep in. Lou wanted to see his face, but the crescent moon left a lot to be desired for light.
“That your woman over there?” the man asked.
“Who wants to know?” Lou countered.
“No sirree, I’m not stupid enough to give my name. I just wanted to pass on some information and I’ve heard you’re to be trusted. You don’t take bribes.”
“Go on.” Things were getting interesting, and not in a good way.
“There’s been talk about shady characters in the bureau. It’s been a few weeks, but I didn’t have anyone else to give my information to.”
“Why me? Besides all your jabber and flattery, you’ve got no need to pass this on.” Besides, Lou had one use for the guy. “Tell me who shot me, and you can go your way.”
The man let out a short laugh. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t say. I’ve my reasons for singling you out, and they don’t include a shooter. When I tried talking to you last month—”
“You got me shot,” Lou interrupted, feeling his patience grow thin. “If you’ve something important to say, then let’s go down to the station and write it down legal-like.”
“I told you, mister, there’re eyes. This is for you and only you.” The man scuffled again and then moved to the center of the alley. “Wasn’t my fault what happened last time. I’m telling you the truth. This time I was careful, though. Followed you and made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.” He took a step toward Lou. “I’m handing you the correspondence, and you can decide what to do with it. As for me, I’m leaving town and don’t want you searching me out.”
Lou swallowed his scoff. As if he’d really let this bootlegger slide through his fingers.
The man swept the bowler off his head, closed the distance between them and handed it to Lou. “The information is in the seam. Before I go, I need to know this lady friend of yours isn’t going to be in the way. Distractions get a man killed real easy. Even when it’s just the messenger.”
Lou grabbed the hat, his blood thundering through him at the guy’s proximity to Mary. Messenger or not, he didn’t know who this man was or what he was capable of. His number-one priority right now was to protect Mary. He placed the hat on his head and stepped into the light.
“Whoa, mister...” The man backed up, hands in surrender.
“The lady means nothing to me.” He jerked his head to the alley opening. “Make sure whoever sent you knows I’ll take care of the situation. No distractions.” He waved his gun. “Now, scram.”
* * *
“What a disappointment,” Lou muttered.
Mary flinched when he took her by the arm. The mysterious man had faded out of the alley and disappeared onto the street, but her limbs still felt paralyzed both by the situation and the words exchanged. Somehow she set into motion next to Lou, her lips like cotton and her heart pattering an uneven rhythm.
They found a streetcar still operating and settled in a corner. The people around her looked tired and bedraggled, no doubt from a long day’s work. They would never guess the drama that had just transpired.
Bribes in high places. Strange stalkers. Unknown assailants. She almost wished she hadn’t followed Lou off the streetcar, and yet the experience had given her a different perspective of her former employer. That carefree smile he wore masked so very much. In the alley he’d sounded completely in control, powerful. Not lighthearted in the least.
How many times had he faced such danger? She chanced a glance at him and the hat upon his head, which supposedly contained the secret missive.
Gracie would find this all very exciting, but Mary was only conscious of exhaustion. She longed to be home, kneading bread, breathing in the delicious aroma of yeast and flour and milk. She wished to listen to Josie’s chatter and to feel the sage-scented breeze upon her brow, not to ride a loud streetcar filled with odors and stares. Adventure wasn’t for her.
Home and hearth. Family. Those filled her heart.
“Are you okay?” Lou’s brow crinkled, and Mary flushed. He’d caught her daydreaming while still looking at him. Did he think she’d been ogling? The thought quivered through her.
“I am fine,” she said.
“You look shaken,” he persisted.
“Really, all is well. I am simply tired.” And heart worn. Not only had the experience been exhausting, but Lou’s words still echoed in her head. The lady means nothing to me.
“We’ll get you to the hotel, then. Are you sure you want to go through with tomorrow? I don’t trust Langdon.”
The one thing she felt for certain was that she didn’t feel like arguing. Tiredness weighted her very bones. “You shouldn’t spend time worrying about him when it sounds as though you have something wrong with your Bureau of Investigation.”
He snorted. “I doubt that.”
“Why so certain? The government has a long history of deceit and underhanded methods.” She’d heard the stories of her maternal grandmother and grandfather. How they’d been forced to march. Offered land only to have it rescinded. And more tales of blood and lies. No, Lou might do much good, but that didn’t mean all men in government were like him.
“You’re right about that, but in this case, I have a different feeling.”
“Feelings are not a solid guidepost for life.” She crossed her arms.
“Right again, but the gut never lies.”
She grimaced, and he laughed.
“Instinct and feelings are two different animals,” he continued. “One to be trusted, the other to be wary of.”
“At last we agree.” She felt the corners of her lips lift unexpectedly.
They arrived at the hotel too soon. After situating her in a room, Lou said an unnervingly brisk good-night, and she shut her door.
Alone at last.
The room smelled a little of mildew, but she trusted the bed to be clean. The space looked sparse, filled with only a dresser, a bed and one nightstand. A lone lamp stood in a corner. She set her bag beside the bed, and then went to check the tub. The hotel had running water, thank goodness.
She cleaned up and even rinsed her dress, hoping it would dry by morning. Sending it down to be laundered seemed a waste of money when she must leave in the morning. As she worked, Lou’s words revolved in her head.
The lady means nothing to me.
Deep down, she knew she meant something to him. Something more than a friend. But to hear him so casually dismiss their relationship to the bowler-hat man sent apprehension through her. The words had left his mouth without effort. Whatever he felt for her, it wouldn’t impede his job or change his life.
And did she want it to? The memory of his kiss tingled her lips. She rubbed at them and climbed into bed.
No, she had never wanted a husband. Kisses were one thing, but everything after could only stir memories she’d long healed from. Or at least suppressed. The thought nagged at her. She pulled the blankets up and rolled to her side, staring at the wall.
Hadn’t Miss Alma helped her? Years ago she’d told the kind lady everything that had transpired when Trevor’s mother had arranged for her to be kidnapped by a gang of evil men. They’d planned to sell her, and though there’d been rough talk, handling that still gave her chills, and countless leers, no one had assaulted her.
The emotional impact had still been traumatic.
Memories traipsed through her mind, rolling silently like one of those new films they showed in theaters lately. Only her memories were in both color and sound, and she couldn’t turn them off with a flick of the reel.
Restless, she rolled to the other side and plumped her pillow. Things that had happened so long ago shouldn’t keep hurting, but they did. Granted, the fear had subsided and now she felt only an uncomfortable knot of tension.
Why was she thinking of marriage in conjunction with Lou, and what would he do about the attraction between them? And if he did do something, how would she respond?
Marriage might bring it all back, stir up too many issues. Despite Miss Alma’s assurances, the thought of being trapped, powerless, in a permanent contract with a man, closed her throat in a panic.
Even if the contract was with Lou.
His kiss, his many kindnesses throughout the years, shouldn’t drag her thoughts in this direction. Why had being with him these past weeks make her think of marriage? Perhaps Miss Alma’s hint in the store about a young man sparking for her was what had sent her mind down the path. Or it could’ve been the way Lou interacted with Josie. In so many ways he reminded her of her own departed father. When he’d been in the beginning stages of drink, he’d been quite affectionate and loving. Though his mood had often turned to moroseness followed by oblivion, she’d treasured the first hour of attention he gave her. Children needed that. Lou didn’t drink, but he had that same playfulness when dealing with Josie.
And that was why future thoughts of Lou must halt, because any path they took together could only lead to a dead end.
Besides, there was no way she’d leave Josie. Mr. Langdon had made quite clear what he thought might happen to the girl when her mother passed away, and though Mary longed to turn him in for the evil he’d suggested, she doubted any official would take her word against a wealthy businessman like Mr. Langdon. She couldn’t prove his words, and he’d done nothing illegal that she knew of.
One year. She’d give one year or less, just until Mrs. Silver passed away, and then Langdon had promised to give her guardianship of Josie. She would press to adopt the girl, though she had little to bargain with.
She probably should have told Lou what Langdon had threatened.
She squeezed her eyes closed, longing for sleep to take these burdens away. Her eyelids burned with exhaustion, but worry kept her awake.
If she hadn’t accepted Langdon’s employment, Josie would be in harm’s way. There had been no other choice, she tried to reassure herself.
Yet she kept thinking of the way he stared at her. The predatory quality to his look. She couldn’t escape the feeling that she was walking into a trap.
She shifted again in the bed before rolling out and digging through her luggage until she felt the small Bible Miss Alma had given her years ago. After clicking on the lamp, she leafed through it until she found Psalms.
Her finger followed chapter 69, to verse 16.
Hear me, O Lord, for Your lovingkindness is good; turn to me according to the multitude of Your tender mercies. And do not hide Your face from Your servant. For I am in trouble...
Prickles scattered across her skin at the words.
Hear me speedily. Draw near to my soul and redeem it; deliver me because of my enemies.
She read to the last verse and into the next chapter. She read until her soul felt settled and her thoughts calm. No matter what occurred in the next year, she could trust God to be near, to be her help in time of need. She closed the book, laid it beside her pillow and crawled back beneath the sheets.
The sound of a door closing nearby made the walls shake.
Was Lou leaving? For a second, the preposterous urge to follow him swept through her, but then logic intervened. Traipsing all over Portland because of curiosity wasn’t something she could afford to do. She must be rested and feeling well for tomorrow.
The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Langdon to change his mind.
With thoughts of Josie and Lou crowding her mind, images of them playing at the picnic, riding on the train, she finally slept.