Heart of Lies (22 page)

“She didn’t kidnap me.
They
did. Maddie was nice to me from the start. I never saw those men but once,” Penelope cried.

“One of the twins is dead. The other is in jail for other crimes, but he’s finally confessed to the kidnapping,” Tom told Perkins. “According to her brother, Maddie Grande was forced to shelter the girl.”

“Please, Papa. Tell him to leave Maddie alone.” Penelope tugged on Perkins’s jacket. He hunkered down on one knee. She cupped her father’s cheek and smiled into his eyes. “Do it for me, Papa?”

“The woman did bring Penelope home,” Mary reminded him. “She seemed jittery yesterday and now I know why. Surely she took a terrible risk bringing our daughter back and she refused the reward. Isn’t that all we wanted, dear? To have Penelope home safe and sound?”

“She led Abbott on a merry chase across Louisiana. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t deserve to get off without consequences,” Perkins said.

“Perhaps not, but she doesn’t deserve to go to prison.”

“Please, please, Papa?”

Perkins finally nodded reassuringly to his child and got to his feet. He sighed, all seriousness when he turned to Tom.

“Do you think this woman poses a threat to other children?”

“A mother’s heart can’t bear losing a child.”

“Maddie brought me home.”

“Did she tell you she can make a child forget its own name?”

“Abbott?”

“No, sir. I don’t believe she is.”

Perkins looked to Mary, who nodded in agreement. She urged Penelope to join her on the settee. Penelope watched Tom, for once quiet but wide-eyed with hope.

“Mr. Abbott, Maddie Grande did bring my daughter home safely. She did not try to con us out of the reward money, nor did she demand a ransom, though I would have paid any amount, even if I had to beg, borrow, or steal it.”

Penelope huffed. “If I’m not allowed to beg, Papa, is that just a figure of speech? I’m really good at begging, if you ever need money.”

Perkins crossed the room and stood before Tom.

“I won’t press charges against Maddie Grande, Mr. Abbott, now or in the future. I’d like you to pass that along to the New Orleans police. Call off the dogs. I’ll see the twin who has confessed prosecuted, mark my words.” A muscle twitched in Perkins’s jaw. “You be sure to tell the authorities that I’ll make certain that man does the time for the kidnapping, no matter what it costs me.”

“I will, sir.”

“I’ll be contacting Pinkerton personally to let him know that you helped put Penelope’s kidnapper behind bars and escorted her safely back to New Orleans.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tom was just relieved that Penelope was safe and that the case hadn’t ended in tragedy. He felt Perkins was giving him far more praise than he deserved, but he couldn’t waste time protesting.

Right now monetary reward was not in his mind. He was still
trying to accept the notion that Maddie had somehow redeemed herself enough to win her own freedom.

He bowed to Mary Perkins and Penelope and bid Peter Perkins good-bye. Perkins shook his hand and thanked Tom again. Tom was letting himself out when Penelope tugged on his coat sleeve.

“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you? Or do you still want her arrested?”

“I never wanted her arrested, but I had to follow the law.”

“Will you let her know I didn’t tell on her? I kept our secret as long as I could?”

He nodded. “I will if I ever see her again.”

As long as Maddie thought she was still wanted, she was perfectly capable of staying hidden.

“Oh, you’ll see her again,” Penelope assured him. “You’re sweet on her, no matter what you say. I think she’s sweet on you too.”

He took his leave convinced that in a few years, Miss Penelope Perkins would have a lot more men than just her father dancing to her tune.

Tom turned his thoughts to New Orleans and explaining the situation to Morgan. The official hunt for Maddie would be suspended. If it wasn’t for the case that had led him to the Grandes in the first place — his search for Megan Lane — he could move on and forget all about her. But something Terrance said had haunted him since yesterday.

“She tell you what she’s good at? She tell you how she can make a child forget its own name?”

She may have not only known Megan Lane, but she may have had a hand in turning her into a loyal tribe member.

Outside, Tom mounted up for a last ride down the alley of oaks. The kidnapping case was closed, but his heart was wide open. He saw Maddie’s dark hair in the color of the rich southern soil. He heard her voice in the breeze rustling through the trees. The sunlight on her face reminded him of the warmth of her smile.

He hated to think about her running scared, but she was used
to dodging the law to survive. She needed to know she was free, that Terrance had confessed. No matter what she’d done, he didn’t want her on the run for the rest of her life.

It wouldn’t take long to return to her cabin to give her the news. Then perhaps he could find out what she knew about the children taken in by Dexter Grande. With any luck, there might be a record of the children’s former identities.

He could only hope she had returned to the bayou.

If she hadn’t, he had no idea where to look next.

F
rank Morgan was both surprised and relieved to hear Penelope was home. He promised to call off the search for Maddie and the girl and would contact Peter Perkins about pressing charges. There was nothing more for Tom to do but wire a report to Alan Pinkerton and await payment for services rendered.

He paid his rent, bathed, and changed into respectable clothing, and quickly read his mail. There was nothing of any urgency. He’d received a cordial letter from Laura Foster in Texas informing him that she had recently married and was now Mrs. Brand McCormick. She hoped every day brought him closer to a clue that might lead him to her sister.

He wasn’t about to give Laura false hope, not until he found Maddie again and settled things with her. Only then could he pick up the thread that had led him to Maddie in the first place. She had nothing to lose. If Maddie knew where to find Megan Lane, why wouldn’t she tell him? If she was Megan Lane, why not admit it? Seated at his secretary desk, he took pen in hand and replied.

Dear Mrs. McCormick,

He folded the letter and carefully impressed a brass stamp with his initial in the warm sealing wax. He packed a clean shirt in his saddlebag, donned his concealed weapons, grabbed a hat, and made his way to the livery near the wharf. There, he found his horse and the one he’d bought to replace the mare comfortably stabled after their trip downriver.

After paying the livery owner, he had but one final errand before he left town. As he rode through the streets leading the spare horse, his gut told him Maddie was no longer there. He had nothing to go on but a hunch that she would return to the bayou before she moved on. If there was anything he’d learned during his years as a detective, it was to follow his hunches.

Tom reined in before a small shop off of Jackson Square. The windows were lined with furnishings and items women were fond of. He found what he was looking for, and within twenty minutes was on his way.

M
addie paced the interior of Anita’s cabin while the older woman scalded a mixture of pickling to pour over a ham. The scent of molasses and allspice flavored the air but did nothing to whet Maddie’s appetite.

“I’m not runnin',” the older woman insisted. “You do what you have to do, but I’m not guilty of nothing and I’m too old to up and move again.”

“I can’t leave you here on your own, Anita. It’s ‘cause of me that you’re in this fix. I’ll do what it takes to get us set up.”

Maddie paused at Anita’s shoulder, absently watched her stir the boiling ingredients. She’d skirted New Orleans on her return from Langetree and headed straight here.

“I owe you for the mare,” Maddie added. “When I get some money together —”

Anita cut her off. “That old nag wasn’t worth anything. Don’t fret yourself over it. If Terrance gets out and comes asking for you, what should I tell him?”

“The truth. I don’t know where I’m going.”

Anita knew her well enough to know what she wasn’t saying.

“I’ve known that boy since he was child. I believe it’s high time you were shed of him anyway,” Anita said.

“He’s a man, Anita. Not a boy.”

A man without honor. A man like Dexter. She’d realized that over the past few days; the rock that had been the foundation of her world had crumbled into dust. Tears burned and she quickly wiped them away, but not before Anita saw.

“It’s time you moved on, Madeline. I’ve seen your desire to get out since long before Rene died. It’s time to bury all your heartache, child, and make a new life for yourself while you’re still young enough.”

“Do you think I can?” Maddie whispered. “Do you really think I can start over?”

“I know you can. Deep down, you know it too. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

For a good hour, Maddie tried to talk Anita into leaving, but to no avail. She knew the longer she tarried, the greater the risk of discovery. Anita walked her out to the dock.

“The Clifford cabin is deserted — least ways, that’s what I hear,” Anita said. “It’s a good four miles up the bayou. You could be there before nightfall, go to ground, and hide for a few days. Now that the girl is safe, I’m willing to bet the police stop searching for you. They’ve got Terrance. That ought to hold them for a while.”

“Terrance will never confess to the kidnapping, and Tom Abbott will never give up. If Penelope’s word isn’t enough, he’ll need me to help charge Terrance with kidnapping.”

Though she tried to put him out of her mind, it was impossible
to forget and just as impossible to believe he would ever stop searching for her. His sense of honor wouldn’t let him. No matter how long it took, he would see her behind bars.

She couldn’t shake her fear of imprisonment anymore than she could forget him.

H
ands on hips, Maddie stood in the middle of the cabin and studied the pile of things she’d stacked on the table — a pile she’d already culled by more than half. What remained wasn’t much. A small bag of rice and one of red beans. Her skinning knife, a rope, and some cord. Two boxes of buckshot. Her oilskin. Three pair of stockings. A faded sunbonnet and a dark gray sweater at least one size too small but warm. She’d rolled up one of Lawrence’s wool jackets along with a pair of his long johns in case the weather took a turn.

She had no money, possessed nothing of any value save the skills she’d acquired over a lifetime. She vowed if she made good on her escape and established herself elsewhere, she wouldn’t use the tricks Dexter had taught her. She would have to rely on her hunting and trapping expertise — limited at best — and her housekeeping skills. Looking around the shack, she figured that was pitiful collateral.

She glanced out the window. Long shadows warned her the afternoon was slipping away. She had to hurry if she was going to leave before dark. Sorting through her meager possessions again, she reminded herself that she’d been lucky so far, but she couldn’t depend on her luck holding forever. Hopefully, she hadn’t lingered too long already.

She made a trip outside with her stack of clothes to load them in the pirogue.

She walked back in to get more, closed the front door, and gasped when she swung around and found Abbott standing inside the back door holding a large box. Her hand flew to her heart.

“You!”

Frantic, she scanned the room. Her shotgun was propped against the wall within Tom’s reach. They both saw it at the same time.

Her shoulders sagged. She stared at him from across the cabin. They both spoke at once.

“I knew you’d come,” she said.

“I thought you’d be long gone.” He looked at the table. “You’re packing to leave.”

She nodded. There’d be no running now.

He stepped into the room, ignored the shotgun, and held out the box. She hesitated before accepting and then set it on the table. “Open it,” he said. “It’s for you.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Afraid of losing herself in his stare, she tried to look away but wound up focusing on his lips.

“It’s a gift.”

“Unless it’s a key, it won’t do me much good in jail,” she said softly.

“You’re not going to prison, Maddie.”

“You’re willing to let me go?”

“Terrance confessed. Said he forced you to hide Penelope. Since you returned her of your own accord, you’re in the clear.”

Afraid her legs would give out, she felt around for a chair. Suddenly Tom was beside her. He tossed his hat on the table, drew out a chair, and helped her ease into it.

“I’m not wanted?”

He smiled. “You know how convincing Miss Penelope Perkins can be. She pleaded your case. Fortunately for you, she has her father wrapped around her little finger.”

Maddie wound her own fingers together in her lap, trying to believe there was no reason to run anymore. Save one.

“What’s going to happen to Terrance?”

“There will be a trial in a few weeks. He shot a policeman and kidnapped a child. I doubt he’ll be free for years.”

“Years,” she whispered. “Are you certain?”

“He shot Lawrence. We’ll never know if it was accidental or not.”

Thankful she was already sitting down, she shook her head. “He shot Lawrence? You never said so before.”

Tom shrugged. “I figured you had enough to handle.”

“Lots of men get set free these days.” New Orleans was notorious for its corrupted legal system. That was something Dexter always counted on. “No matter what they did.”