Turner's Vision (16 page)

“What makes you think it wasn’t just a rug, Joey?”

“It was too heavy. The blokes carrying it in were bent over like this.” Joey arched his back, and looped his hands down low. “And it took three of them to move it inside.”

“Yeah,” Adam jumped into the conversation. “If it’d been just some ole rug, they’da just tossed it over a shoulder, like this.” He took his turn to demonstrate.

Henderson nodded. “We met with Simon before returning tonight, and he asked us to tell you about a conversation he heard down at the Whaler’s Reef last night.”

“And what was that?” Claudia asked, a tingling running over her skin. She hoped it wasn’t bad news.

“A few old salts came in, trying to quench a thirst. He said after a few rounds, they started talking about their ship, saying their problem wouldn’t be around in a few days.” Henderson looked at his hands a moment, then raised his worried gaze to meet Micah’s. “When Simon asked them which ship they were from, it turned out to be one of Gibson’s vessels.”

Micah sat back in his chair, rubbing his neck. “Did they say why their problem wouldn’t be around?”

Henderson nodded. “Seems they didn’t like the idea of being a burial detail. Said they’d be digging a grave before shipping out once more.”

* * * * *    

As their carriage rolled through the dark streets toward the Aqueduct Bridge to cross into the township of Rosslyn, Virginia, Claudia glanced up at Micah, who stared out into the foggy night. He had a determined set to his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Despite her questions, he’d avoided telling her any details about his family. She had the distinct feeling he felt responsible for his sister’s disappearance. It wasn’t necessarily the words he said, but more the tenseness that came over his features whenever someone mentioned the white slavery ring’s existence. And she still wondered how his brother was mixed up in this mess.

In the past week she’d known her husband, she’d seen many looks on his face. When the boys quizzed him on his life out west, he showed great patience. He comfortably wore the respect of his comrades as they discussed the implications of one group taking over the government. And when he made love to her, the passion in his gaze overwhelmed her.

Never in her brief time with Micah had she seen this quiet, controlled anger possessing him tonight. Even when he’d discovered her dressed as a barmaid at the tavern, his anger hadn’t been this palpable, this deadly.

Their carriage rolled to a silent stop near the warehouse, interrupting her thoughts.

“Cover all your hair,” Micah ordered her without taking his gaze from the darkness outside the carriage. “I don’t want anyone identifying you tonight.”

Claudia pulled her hat further down over her hair, pushing stray locks beneath the band while they waited for the all clear signal from Kelly. On impulse, she reached out and grabbed Micah’s hand, squeezing it quickly before releasing it.

Micah’s head swiveled around. His gaze locked onto hers in a silent question.

Tentatively, she smiled at him in sympathy to his torment. “It may not be her.”

He reached up and stroked her cheek with his hand. His own face lost some of its tension, even though sadness dulled his eyes. “I’m torn. Part of me hopes it is her. The other half prays it isn’t.”

A light tap sounded on the carriage roof. Micah grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out the carriage door behind him. He pushed her up against the vehicle’s side, glancing up and down the lane for any sign of movement.

“Remember, from this moment on, no talking,” he whispered in her ear. “And you don’t leave my side, no matter what we find inside.”

Claudia laid a hand over his heart, her gaze meeting his in the dark. “I promise.”

When he was satisfied no one else roamed the street, they ran across the road and into the alley between two buildings. Finding the warehouse’s windows locked, Micah reached for a rock to use to break the glass.

Claudia slammed her body into his, stopping him. He gave her a puzzled look. She indicated he allow her to try. He shrugged and stepped aside to give her room to work.

Slipping a small knife blade out of her pocket, Claudia reached up as far as she could to slide it under the window ledge. She stood precariously on her tiptoes, wobbled slightly, then found herself lifted up by Micah’s strong arms to reach the window better. She wiggled the blade under the window edge just as Adam had instructed her until it caught. Sliding it to her left, she felt the catch move.

The quiet click the boys taught her to listen for sounded in the night.

She braced her hands on Micah’s shoulders. Tapping lightly, she let him know she’d succeeded in unlocking the window.

He lowered her down toward the ground. When she reached his eye level, he stopped her. With her feet still hanging in the air, he kissed her hard and fast, then set her on the ground beside him.

Micah lifted the window, pulled on the ledge, and lifted himself up and through the window. Hunching down on his heels, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the storeroom’s dim lighting.

To his surprise no one was inside.

A sense of dread filled him. Surely the men he hunted would have guards on duty to protect slave property they planned to sell. No guard meant there was no one here to watch or they were so powerful they weren’t worried about detection.

Dainty fingers tapping on the window’s outer ledge reminded him Claudia stood alone outside, vulnerable in the dark. He helped her up and into the warehouse, signaling her to remain quiet as they searched.

Crates of various sizes and shapes packed the cavernous room. Markings on the outside showed many contained more of the opium they’d seen stored in the first warehouse. However, here there were also long, narrow crates and small barrels.

Micah motioned Claudia to stop and hand him her knife. He wedged it into the corner of a flat crate and carefully pried it loose to see inside.

Rifles. And the barrels were the government-standard-issue size to contain gunpowder.

Damn, he hated being right
.

Surveying the layout as they once again maneuvered their way through the building, he identified five doors—the main entrance, a large, double side door which led out to the docks, and the office door near the front of the building. The remaining two doors were located at the rear of the large main storage room.

Micah motioned to Claudia to follow him back toward the two rear doors, his heart pounding in his chest.

What if he found Patrice there? What shape would she be in? Would she be alive or dead? And what if she weren’t there at all?

He wasn’t sure which questions he wanted answered, let alone what answers he hoped to find.

At the doors, Claudia’s small hand gently touched his own, stopping him once again. Looking back at her, he saw her shrug as if asking—which one?

He stepped back and motioned for her to choose. She turned the knob on the right. It was open. She turned the knob on the left. It was locked. Her choice made, she knelt and pulled a hairpin from beneath her hat. With the precision the boys taught her, she worked the door’s internal mechanism. The click of the lock slipping filled the room’s silence.

Claudia hopped up to stand next to Micah, an impish smile on her face at her accomplishment.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You were right. Your skills as a lock pick are very handy.”

When he opened the door a set of stairs led below the warehouse. He signaled for her to close the door, then took her hand, lit a match and started down the stairway. At the bottom of the stairs a lamp lay abandoned on the hallway floor. He lit it with another of his matches.

Holding it up, he illuminated the long hall to reveal several doors. He followed Claudia’s example and tested each doorknob to eliminate the open ones. The last door in the hallway was locked tight. Micah stood to one side and held the lamp close for Claudia to work her magic once again.

As he pushed the door open, the light cast eerie shadows across the room’s contents, revealing a huddled mass on a cot against the far wall.

Claudia started through the door. Micah grabbed her arm, stopping her and shook his head. He motioned for her to remain in the doorway. Until he was sure who or what was on that cot, he meant to protect his wife.

He moved through the small room as quietly as possible. At the cot he knelt and listened for breathing sounds to come from the body.

When he heard a deep moan, he exhaled and turned the body toward him.

It wasn’t Patrice.

Thank God.

The man was in very bad shape. He was dressed in sailor’s clothes, ripped apart from repeated lashes of a whip. Not only was the man bleeding from the cuts, but he’d been beaten with fists or some other blunt object that left bruises and cuts over his face. He felt along the man’s torso and extremities, determining that his right hand and lower arm were broken. He’d bet the man also had cracked ribs on both sides of his body.

The man’s low moans during Micah’s inspection brought Claudia over from the door to investigate. Leaning over Micah’s shoulders she gasped at the sight of the man.

“Can you tear up that cloth you brought into long strips?” Micah instructed as he pulled off the man’s tattered shirt. After he had it off, he reached up for the cloth from Claudia, but his hand remained empty.

“Claudia, did you hear me?” He looked back at her to see if she was listening to his instructions. Seeing her pale face staring at the man, Micah grasped her around the wrist, diverting her attention from the sight and onto her task. “I know he looks bad, but if we can get his ribs bound now, he’ll tolerate the move much better.”

At Micah’s touch and words, Claudia reached into her sweater where she’d carried the supplies, removed a long piece of white cloth and tore it into strips.

Micah leaned the man up against his chest. “Tie the strips as tightly as you can around his body.”

Once she’d bound the man’s torso, Micah laid the man back down on the cot, and she tore several smaller strips. Micah reached under the edge of the bed and pulled off two slats of wood. Moving the bones into as proper alignment as he could, Micah held the boards on each side of the man’s lower arm. Claudia again wrapped the strips around the boards and tied the cloth tight.

When that was finished, Micah lifted the man up onto his shoulder, letting out a grunt at the man’s dead weight. Claudia lifted the lamp, leading the way back up the stairs. At the door, she turned out the lamp and opened the door.

Micah eased the battered man’s unconscious body to the floor beside the window they’d entered earlier. Turning to his wife, he lifted her to sit on the window ledge. When she swung her legs outside the open window, he stopped her progress by squeezing her waist where his hands supported her. She looked up, puzzled.

“Claudia, I can’t lower this man out the window to you,” he whispered. “Given his weight, you’d never be able to support him long enough for me to join you. Tell Henderson to bring the carriage around to the front entrance. Then I want you to get inside the carriage and stay there, no matter what. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but Micah…”

“I’m going to be too busy getting him out of here to worry about you. For once do as I say.”

He turned her around and lowered her steadily to the ground. He waited at the window until he saw her dart across the lane to the carriage and heard the horses move toward the front of the warehouse. Turning back to the inert body on the floor, he listened again for breathing sounds from the man. Satisfied that he still lived, Micah lifted him once more. Carrying him over his shoulder he wove his way through the warehouse to the main entrance. He wedged the man against the doorframe, then tried turning the knob.

It was locked. There was no latch to turn. The lock required a key to open it from the outside.

“Damn,” he swore to himself. “How do I get him out of here now?”

He was considering kicking the door down, when a soft click echoed in the night. The door popped open to reveal Claudia standing outside.

“Uh,” he grunted as he shifted the other man’s weight on his massive shoulders. He passed by his wife, giving her a quelling look and leaving her to close the door behind him.

Claudia hurried past to help lift the man into the carriage. She adjusted the man on the opposite seat as Henderson started the horses for home, avoiding Micah’s eyes.

Good thing. At this moment, he didn’t know whether to kiss her or throttle her.

With the canteen of water and extra cloth they had left behind them in the carriage, she dabbed at the dirt and cuts on the man’s face. Micah watched recognition cross Claudia’s face. Despite the swelling from what appeared to be the imprints of someone’s fist, she knew the man underneath.

“Micah, you should send Henderson for Cain as soon as we get back to the house.” She continued to clean the swollen and purulent wounds.

“Why is that, my dear?” Micah asked the question, but already knew the answer.

“We’ve found Officer Howard.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The carriage drew up outside the brownstone and Micah lifted Howard’s limp body back onto his shoulders, passing Claudia’s instructions on to Henderson. Once inside the house he carried him to one of the upstairs rooms while Claudia hustled the boys into action.

“Adam, go over to Dr. Schulman’s and bring him back here as quick as you can. Joey fetch me clean sheets and my sewing scissors from the downstairs parlor.”

Lying Noah on the bed, Micah was glad the other man was unconscious for the torment that awaited him. He watched his wife enter the room and again wondered what feelings she had for the man on the bed. Noting the worry on her face, he stilled Claudia’s hands as she reached to cut the remainder of the dirty, blood-encrusted clothes from him.

“You go down and get what you need. I’ll get him ready for the doctor.”

“It’s okay, Micah. After all, I’m a married woman now. The sight of a naked man won’t make me blush.”

She stood her ground with that defiant look on her face. Only a logical explanation would get her out of this room now.