Chapter 21

Twenty-One

I looked at Brodie. There was something in that dark gaze, something he needed to tell me. I then looked at Munro. He shook his head.

"Something's happened."

"I took the girl to the dressmaker's this morning," Munro explained. "For the dress she's to wear to the wedding. I then had Hastings take me to see to other errands for her ladyship. When I returned..." He shook his head again.

"She was taken from the shop when the woman went to make changes."

Taken?

"By whom?" I demanded and barely recognized my own voice…the confusion, then the fear that followed.

Impossible, I wanted to tell them both. It could not have happened that way. Lily was strong and resourceful. She would never have been taken. She would scream, curse, and fight, and very likely the other person would be the worse for it. After all, she had that knife that Munro had given her.

"There must be some mistake," I insisted. "Perhaps she left on her own."

"The seamstress saw the man take her, but was unable to stop him," Munro explained.

"She would have fought back," I insisted.

"I found something in that storeroom at St. Katherine's Docks earlier."

There was something in Brodie's voice that sound ominous. "The man verra likely used chloroform. There was a stain from a bottle on a shelf."

I tried to grasp everything he was saying.

"There was a note left along with that rose," Brodie added, his voice oddly calm.

I had not seen it at first among the papers that usually covered his desk. I stared at it.

"What is in it?"

I caught the look that passed between Brodie and Munro.

"Tell me!" I demanded.

Munro looked away, and the fear inside me was like a fist that closed around my throat. Brodie's hand tightened around mine, the other gently took me by the arm.

"It says we should not have interfered."

A warning? A threat?

"No!" I protested.

Brodie took me into his arms. If there was more to the note, I didn't hear it, my face buried in the front of his jacket as he held onto me.

I tried to push him away. Far stronger, he held on.

"Not Lily!" I was angry, terrified, then angry all over again. Old feelings from when my sister disappeared returned, painful. I wanted to scream and curse. I did both.

And when I had worn myself down as Brodie held me and stroked my back, "We have to find her."

"Aye."

I wanted answers. I wanted to know who had done this. Why?

"We will find her," he assured me as he brushed the hair back from my cheek.

Munro had taken himself out of the office and onto the landing. He stood with his back against the outside wall of the office, his head bowed.

"He blames himself," Brodie explained. "If he had not gone off to see to those errands...it might have been different."

That slowly sank in. Perhaps. But the truth was that he couldn't have known.

I went out onto the landing. It was cold, and wet, and miserable. I laid a hand on Munro's arm. He looked up, and I saw everything I felt in the expression on his face.

"I would cut off me arm to protect the girl."

As dreadful as that sounded, I knew it was true, that unshakable Scot loyalty to their own, very much like Brodie.

I shook my head. "And what good would that be? You will need both arms to help us find her."

Horrible as the situation was, I caught the faint ghost of a smile on his mouth.

"We will find her," he said. "And make no mistake, those that done this will pay."

Time was precious, and difficult as it was, we needed to think what was to be done to find Lily.

"According to Mr. Brown, Queen's Dock is where Carney set up his ‘business' operation." Brodie told Munro. "The man at St. Katherine's this mornin' told me that Carney was there early and said that he had business down river. It is verra likely he took the girl there."

"Ye trust Brown?" Munro asked.

"He wants a favor. I trust him that far." He looked over at me, "And the entries in the bank ledger are proof of his little enterprise. Apparently, goods are smuggled in, as the coast guard no longer patrol that area, then sold for a keen profit."

It made sense, still it was a terrifying possibility that they might be wrong.

"The man will know by now that we're aware the girl is gone," Munro pointed out.

Brodie nodded. "But he doesna know wot we have learned from Brown or what I learned this mornin'."

"Aye, that could an advantage. We will go to the docks," Munro replied.

There was more. However, he chose to speak with Brodie in that language they shared that I knew little of.

"While I don't understand what is being said," I protested, "I will not be spoken over as if I am not here."

A look passed between them. Munro nodded.

"I will make the arrangements and return here."

There was a brief look in my direction as Munro left.

"What arrangements? How are we to do this?" I asked.

"It will be dangerous, for Lily and anyone attempting to find her," he replied.

I heard the unspoken, and I was not having it.

"I understand that very well."

"Mikaela..."

I heard it coming. It was that old argument and I knew where it came from—his need to protect me.

"I am an excellent marksman and I can help," I pointed out. "I will not be set aside in this. If..." I started to say, then changed what I would have said.

" When we find Lily, she may need me. I am going with you."

"Aye. But ye will do as I say, and there is no argument in it."

Munro returned in little more than an hour. He had changed clothes and now wore a black turtleneck jumper, trousers, and a black jacket, with a billed cap against the rain.

"Ye have everything we might need?" Brodie asked. A looked passed between them.

I could only imagine what that might include.

"Aye, in the alley behind the smoke shop." Then he added, "It will take a good hour to reach the docks."

Brodie nodded and went to the chalkboard. He drew a diagram.

"We'll go by way of Cannon to Victoria Steet. Is the livery stable still there?"

He seemed to know that part of London well.

"It is," Munro replied.

"From there," Brodie continued, "we make our way to the river and the docks."

"There are only two buildings still standing," Munro added. "If the man has taken the girl there, she will be in one or the other."

And if she wasn't there? I chose not to think about that.

Munro was obviously familiar with the area as well. As I listened, I reminded myself that there was a time before Brodie was with the MET…two young men surviving on the streets of London as best they could, and whatever that might have included.

Brodie had spoken of it, dismissing it out of hand. Yet, that experience was there. I had long suspected there was far more behind that almost stoic demeanor and that intense dark gaze. It came as no shock that I had married a man with somewhat of a dark past.

I would take that against others I had known, I thought. A man I had learned that I could trust.

"We go in together as far as the back of the warehouse," Brodie was saying, then came away from the chalkboard.

"Then I will take one and ye the other."

Munro nodded. "There is a watchman who keeps an eye on the warehouses from a shanty at the docks. I will see to him," he added with a look over at me.

"And another inside, I've seen." He retrieved the rather ominous-looking knife in a leather sheath that he always carried and I had seen before. He tucked it into the back of his trousers.

"What about Carney?" I inquired.

Munro looked over at Brodie. "If he's there, he will most likely be inside the one warehouse where ye said he was doing a bit of business."

"Aye, "Brodie nodded. "Still, we have no way of knowing where he's taken Lily. We need to keep him alive long enough to find out where the girl is."

I knew what he was saying and pushed back any misgivings or feelings of guilt over what they intended.

"We should go while there is still light," Munro said.

The weather had not eased. His coat was dark in places as he had not bothered with an umbrella. Brodie was dressed much the same, in worn clothes, as he had been earlier that morning.

Anyone who saw them would assume they were nothing more than common workers, perhaps like those Miss Effie had spoken of, hoping to find work.

I went into the adjoining bedroom. My worst fear was that we might be too late, that Lily might have come to harm, or worse.

"The thought will do her no good," Brodie had told me when I voiced my fear.

I knew he was right, but it was still there.

I had worn a walking skirt for my travel to Knightsbridge earlier in the day. With a jacket over, hardly the sort of costume that would disguise me. Still, I had my stout walking boots, wool neck scarf, and long coat.

It would have to do. Time was critical and I would not delay long enough to return to Mayfair for something more appropriate. And there was always the possibility that Brodie and Munro would take the opportunity to leave without me.

There had been that brief conversation when I had no idea what was said. I would not have put it past either one of them.

"I am ready," I announced as I returned to the outer office.

I had already checked the revolver that Brodie insisted I carry when on an inquiry case, and I had slipped the knife Munro had given me down the inside of my boot.

Brodie had set the time to leave for ten o'clock that night, as that would give anyone at the warehouse where we hoped to find Lily time enough to be well ‘into the drink,' as he described it.

I ignored both of them as I put on my long coat, and pulled on a brimmed hat against the rain. I didn't wait for either acknowledgement as I pulled on my gloves, then left the office.

I found the wagon at the back of the smoke shop and found Mr. Cavendish with the team of horses.

"You'd best take the hound for what you need to do."

Rupert sat on the pavement beside Mr. Cavendish's platform.

"I would go with you meself, but someone needs to watch the office."

Brodie shook his head as he and Munro arrived in the alley and climbed atop the wagon.

"Not this time," Brodie commented with a look at the hound.

"As you say," Mr. Cavendish said as he moved to one side of the team.

Munro picked up the reins and the horses set off down to the far end of the alley.

Brodie was probably right about the hound. We had no way of knowing exactly what we were going to find when we reached Queen's Docks, and it was a good distance from the Strand. It was probably best that he remain.

Still, there was no way of knowing what Rupert might do on his own. He was, after all, a creature of the streets. Not unlike the two who sat in the front of the wagon, I thought as I caught sight of Rupert trotting behind the wagon.

Then, as we reached the end of the alley and Munro turned the team toward the main thoroughfare that would take us along the river to Queen's Docks, Rupert leapt into the back of the wagon.

"Good boy." I scratched his ears and then ordered him to lie down under the wagon seat, out of sight.

It took almost two hours to reach Victoria Street, then very near another hour on a street filled with wagons and carts in spite of the rain. After that, we headed down an adjacent roadway toward the river.

The rain had not let up the entire way, and I had soon joined Rupert under the wagon seat with the edge of the canvas pulled up.

The wagon eventually slowed, and there was the faint nicker from the team in that way of horses greeting other horses.

We had reached the livery Munro had spoken of, and he guided the team behind the small corral and shed where it might not be noticed.

I pushed back the canvas as Rupert jumped down, circled the wagon, then returned, waiting expectantly.

"What is that bloody animal doing here?" Brodie demanded as Munro circled round the other side of the wagon to the back and threw back the canvas.

"He jumped into the back of the wagon," I explained. "There was no stopping him, and I was certain we could not delay to return him to the office."

"No stopping him? Did it occur to ye that it might be dangerous for him?"

"He has proven himself most capable in the past," I pointed out.

Munro had retrieved an ax from the back of the wagon. He handed it to Brodie.

"If Lily is here, there are things that will have to be done tonight," Munro said as he looped a second ax through his belt.

I understood.

"I'm going with you." And before Brodie could make his usual objections, I continued. "If something has happened..." I didn't want to think about it; however, two young women had been murdered. "If she is here," I continued, "and has been injured, I can help. I'm going. And that's the end of it."

The objections were there, then his expression softened.

"Aye. But yer to do exactly as I tell ye."

Munro had already set off, keeping to what remained of the shadows as he moved toward the first warehouse. Brodie and I followed.

Dozens of thoughts ran through my head. If Lily was there, what if she was injured? How would we find her? The answer to that particular question brushed against my leg as we stopped where we had last seen Munro. Rupert looked up at me expectantly.

We followed as Munro moved around the side of the warehouse to the front of the wharf and boat landing, then eased one of the large doors open. He glanced back and held up two fingers.

"There's two inside," Brodie whispered. "Stay here."

He joined Munro and they slipped through the doors.

Several moments passed, then there were sounds of a struggle. There was a shout, followed by a curse, then silence. In spite of Brodie's instructions, I ran to the entrance of the warehouse.

Rupert bolted inside and I followed, then stopped.

Two men lay on the floor of the warehouse, one at the back where it looked like he might have attempted to leave, the other only a few feet away from where I stood.

Munro stood up from over the nearest body and wiped the blade of his knife. He looked at me, then called out to Brodie in a low voice.

He came from the back of the warehouse where I had glimpsed that other body.

"The hound seems to think that she's here somewhere," he said, taking my arm and turning me back toward the entrance and away from that body.

I forced myself past the sick feeling at what I had just seen inside the warehouse. It wasn't as if I was not aware what both were capable of, and I had seen dead bodies before. Still, it was the possibility that we might not find Lily alive.

"Is one of them Carney?"

"He's not here," was all he said.

That meant that he was still out there, somewhere, as well as Lily. And with that warning shout I'd heard, he would know that we were here.

Munro quickly joined us, his tall frame discernible in the fading light. He inclined his head toward the second warehouse, then moved in that direction.

Brodie hesitated, his hand on my arm. I knew what he would have said. I moved past him to follow Munro.

The second warehouse was nearer the water, with a landing at the edge of the river. Munro moved along the near side. Brodie stepped past me and followed him.

There had been no sign of Lily at the first warehouse. Was she inside this one?

And with it again came the thought that she might be injured. What would happen when Brodie and Munro entered the warehouse? Another scene like the first, only worse?

I was about to go after them when Brodie returned. He shook his head. They had not found her.

Anger was followed by tears that stung my eyes. She was here, somewhere.

"We have to find her!"

He nodded.

"There are several shanties along the wharf," Munro said. "She could be in any one of them."

And it would take time to search them. Time we might not have.

Rupert grew restless beside me. He had gone with Brodie and Munro into both warehouses and had found nothing.

He knew Lily. In fact, the two had struck up a strong friendship when he had accompanied me to Sussex Square. He had tracked me, more than once. Yet I knew it was from his sense of scent.

I whispered to Brodie, my hand resting on top of Rupert's head.

"He might be able to find her."

I knelt down beside Rupert.

"Find Lily," I told him. "You must find Lily. Go."

Rupert looked at me expectantly and I began to think it wouldn't work. My heart sank. Then he was off, as I had seen him before, nose to the ground, tail sticking up straight as an arrow. I went after him.

Brodie and Munro followed, searching the first shanty at the wharf as Rupert circled then ran to the next one. And the next one, as my thoughts raced.

As it grew darker with the fading light, we ran along the waterfront, Rupert racing before us. And all I could think of was Carney.

Was he in one of those huts? Where was Lily? Was she still alive?

A baying sound came from just ahead at the wharf. Had Rupert had found her?

The blow almost took me to the ground. Then I was dragged back to my feet, a fist wrapped around my hair, and a too-familiar smell of drink, sweat, and traces of chloroform.

I fought, but the long coat tangled about my legs as I was hauled back against a thick male body.

"What have we here?" Carney spat as I struggled to reach the revolver in my coat pocket.

Carney was taller and stronger, the beard on his face scraping my cheek, the smell of him choking me. Unable to reach the revolver, let alone the knife in my boot, I thrust my elbow back hard into his midsection and tried to spin away from him.

There was a sound of surprise as the blow took the air from his lungs. I would have escaped except for that meaty paw of a hand on the front of my coat. He hauled me back against him, his hand around my throat.

A shout, his name, and Carney spun back around, taking me with him.

Then Brodie was there.

"Let her go!"

Carney shook his head, his breath hot and foul against my cheek as his hand tightened around my throat. I could hardly breathe.

"Let her go," Brodie repeated, a hand-held lamp in one hand, his revolver in the other pointed at Carney. "I'll not say it again."

I thought for a moment that Carney might release me, then his hand tightened and his other hand came wrapped around the hilt of a knife. If I could have said something past that strangle hold Carney had on me, I would have told Brodie to shoot.

I knew the risk, but I trusted him.

I looked at Brodie as Carney dragged me back with him. I saw something in the expression on his face, the bleak, dark look in his eyes, and knew what he was about to do.

Gunfire exploded in the dark, the sound echoing off nearby huts and the crumbling buildings that lined the quay.

Carney staggered as he continued to pull me with him. Brodie fired again and Carney went down, taking me with him.

I fought my way out from under that wretched body. And Brodie was there.

"Is he dead?" I whispered past my bruised throat.

He knelt down beside Carney's body.

"Aye."

"Good." It came out as little more than rasping sound, yet horrible as some might think it, I was glad that he was. But what did it mean for Lily?

"The bloody hound has found the girl," Munro announced as he reached us.

"She's alive."

Carney was forgotten. Brodie took my arm and we followed Munro past the hut to the wharf that ran along the riverfront. He swept the beam of a hand-held lamp across the heavy timbers of the wharf. The light found Rupert and an iron grate that he excitedly circled.

A thin voice called out from below that grate. Lily!

"Are you all right?" I asked as I knelt beside the grate.

Her face was pale in the light of the hand-held lamp, her eyes wide and dark. A slender hand was wrapped around one of the bars of the grate.

"It's cold and there's a lot of water. It's getting deeper."

"The tide is comin' in." Munro said in a low voice. "Ye can see just beyond, on the building along the way—high water mark. It floods during high tide, and it's already up to her knees."

"Aye, we have to get her out."

"It would take too long to go back to the wagon for rope," Munro added.

Brodie nodded and unbuckled his belt. "Take off yer belt."

After they both removed their belts, they looped them through the bars of the grate and then tied them off.

"The water is higher," Lily called out.

Brave girl, yet I heard the fear in her voice.

"Stand away," Munro told her. "The timbers are rotted. If we can move this, they may give way.

And she could either be crushed or swept away by that rising tide.

"Miss?" She reached through the grate with a thin hand. "I thank ye."

Farewell? Not bloody likely.

I took her hand in mine. "It will work."

I refused to accept that it would not.

She nodded then pushed herself as far from the opening as possible as Brodie and Munro both pulled on those leather straps they'd made at the edge of that iron grate.

It creaked and groaned, then slowly lifted, an inch, then two. As it did, the thick timbers that surrounded it buckled and then fractured, jagged ends protruding up from the deck as water swirled just below.

"More," I told them. "Just a bit more."

Another inch, and another. I thrust my hand down into that gaping hole. A cold, slender hand took hold.

Another timber gave way as they pulled again at the grate, and that opening widened.

I grabbed Lily by the back of her gown with both hands. She pushed her way up through the opening as water surged around her. We fell back, a tangled mass of arms and legs, very much like two fish flung onto the deck. But she was alive. I hugged her fiercely.

"Are you all right?"

"I knew ye and Mr. Brodie would find me. And Munro." Her smile was a bit wobbly through the tangled mass of wet hair and some obvious bruises on her cheek and neck. And my first thought was if Carney wasn't already dead, I would have gone back and killed him myself.

Munro had gone quiet, relief obvious on his face. Then he looked up.

"The hound."

It was Rupert, but hardly the baying sound when he found Lily. The sounds were vicious, frantic barking and snarls.

Munro had warned there might be others, part of Carney's smuggling business. He and Brodie had already found two others.

A man loomed up out of the darkness beyond the circle of Brodie's hand-held lantern. He staggered and lunged, a knife clutched in his hand.

He was dressed in a frayed, dark-blue wool suit, white hair wild about his head, a crazed look in his eyes, and his face, his expression amid the vivid burn scars twisted as he threw himself toward us.

"You should not have interfered!"

His voice was thin, hardly more than a whisper, but the words were the same as in that note. He was almost upon us.

There was no time to retrieve the revolver. I pushed Lily behind me.

There was a different sound, then a dull thud as an axe embedded in the man's chest.

He remained standing for a moment as though suspended by strings like a puppet as blood spread from the wound and soaked the front of his shirt. He tried to say something, but no sound came out as he fell back, just beyond that circle of light.

Munro stepped past me and went down on one knee beside the body as he swept the light of his hand-held over the man who had tried to attack us.

He was thin beneath the blue wool suit of clothes that any man of society might have worn, except for the stains and the frayed cuffs. Now, it sagged in loose hollows, the once-white shirt covered with blood as he stared sightless past Munro.

It wasn't the clothes, so obviously out of place here, but his features, the scars and marled flesh on his face, a mask I thought at first, and scars on his hands, a knife clutched in one.

And yet...there was something familiar, as I remembered the stooped figure of a man on the street days before, there watching.

I looked over at Brodie. "I don't understand. Who?"

"Simon Harris."

It took me a moment, everything we had learned, the lies, the murder of another young woman years before.

It made sense in a strange way as we returned to the wagon with Lily and the hound, then made the long ride back to the office on the Strand at the edge of the theater district, the lights and sounds in stark contrast to what we had left behind.

Upon our arrival at the office, Rupert had jumped down from the wagon quite pleased with himself, and then set off with Mr. Cavendish for a very late supper at the Public House. He deserved it, and more.

I provided soap and a towel for Lily, and she bathed in the accommodation down the way from the office, then crawled into bed in the room that adjoined the office. She took my hand as I tucked her in.

"That man...with the scars. He said he was sorry when that other man put me down in that room. Why would he say that?"

There were no easy answers. An apology perhaps? Madness at what he had set out to do, revenge against those he held responsible for his daughter's death all those years before? Perhaps to ease his own guilt? We would never know.

"Try to sleep," I told her and tucked the blankets in around her. She nodded.

"I don't think I can."

There was a yawn, then she turned onto her side, her eyes drifting closed.

I had telephoned my great-aunt to let her know that Lily was safe with us and would return to Sussex Square in the morning.

There was time enough to sort everything else out tomorrow, and contact both Sir Mallory and Judge Cameron, as well as Mr. Dooley to have the police retrieve the bodies from Queen's Docks.

Munro left for Sussex Square. He would return in the morning for Lily. I was exhausted as well, with my own bruises.

I made use of the accommodations with a fresh cloth and some soap, ignored my own bruises from my encounter with Carney, and returned to the office to find cartons of food on the desk.

"The Mudger sent a boy over. He thought ye might be wanting supper," Brodie explained.

Dear man, I thought.

Along with supper, were two glasses each with a dram of Old Lodge whisky. I needed that, and I needed food. In spite of the gruesome events of the evening, I was starving.

I have no idea what time it was when I suddenly looked up and realized that I had nodded off, and Brodie was there.

He took the empty glass from my hand and set it on the desktop, then proceeded to untie my boots and remove them. He pulled me up from the chair then over to blankets and a comforter spread on the floor.

"It's time fer bed, unless ye want to sleep with the girl."

"This will do quite nicely," I replied.

He added more coal to the stove, checked the bolt on the door, and returned the revolver to the desk drawer. He then joined me on the floor, pulling me against him, then drawing the comforter up over us both.

"Why?" I asked, thinking of the clues on that chalkboard that had taken us to Queen's Docks that night.

"Ye asked what the motive was," Brodie replied, his voice low amidst the hiss of the fire in the coal stove.

And then, "Revenge, for his daughter's death, against the man who killed her, and those who set him free."

I shivered and curled closer against his warmth.

"Will there be any justice?"

"Go to sleep, lass."