11th Hour Rose (13 page)

Caught off guard by the impulsive embrace, Lilly wasn’t prepared for the sudden fall of her defenses. Safety, warmth, and welcome washed her from head to toe. She was a strong woman—being of the south in recent years she had to be—but the moment David wrapped his arms around her, she wanted nothing more than to sink into him and weep. She sighed, snuggling deeper and blinking back the sting of threatening tears.

“Let’s give them a moment alone.” Marissa ushered her husband and Curtis out of the room.

Davy rested his chin on top of her head, rubbing her arms with his palms. After a long moment he drew back slightly, searching her face. “You’re well?”

“Yes,” she assured quickly.

“Who did this?”

Lilly shook her head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see him.”

He glanced briefly away, his grip on her upper arms tightening. When he looked back the familiar stern furrow creased his brow, and a hard edge gilded his eyes. “Damn it, Lilly. What were you thinking to wander about alone?”

She stiffened, a bit of the warmth she’d found in his arms chilling. “I was thinking that I didn’t want to be locked in that filthy cell, and I was hardly wandering about. I was going home.”

“Why didn’t you ask one of the deputies to accompany you?”

“You had them all under orders to keep me locked away. Blame who you will, David, but this time you crossed the line.” The throb behind her right eye intensified, descending down her spinal column, creating a lonely ache in her bones. She wanted to crawl into a deep burrow and sleep.

“If you weren’t so damned intent on fighting me this never would have happened.”

Lilly deflated, hurt and exhausted. “Just go, Davy. There is no reason for you to stay.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched and then relaxed.
He
relaxed. “Forgive me. I just…” For a long moment he remained silent, face unreadable. “Did you mean what you said?”

Lilly blinked up at him, her aching brain spinning as she grasped for what he referred to.

“On the way here you woke briefly and said…” he gulped, obviously nervous, and took her face in his palms tilting her chin gently. “You said…”

Crash!
The door banged from the other room. “Doc! Where is she?”

Davy and Lilly startled in unison. “It’s my father,” she said.

Davy quickly stepped away and Lilly slid off the exam table, flattening her palms against her flushed cheeks.

“She’s alive,” Craig’s voice sounded from the adjoining room. “Battered and bruised and I think she has a concussion, but none the worse for the wear in any case.”

Her father entered the room along with the doctor. He glanced in surprise from her to David. No doubt wondering why they’d been alone in the room.

“I’m perfectly fine, Papa. But I am ready to go home.”

“I’ll go for now.” Davy nodded to her father and strode to the outside door. “I will let you know the moment I learn of anything.”

Lilly swallowed back disappointment as Davy turned his broad back and
left
without a backward glance. She ground her teeth in frustration. The man was so closed off. For once he’d actually been on the brink of having a serious conversation with her… about
them.
She had no idea what would come of such a talk, the spark between them was so new and unexpected—truthfully she didn’t even know she wanted herself, but… at the very least, she wanted to explore these new feelings.

Wistfully Lilly sighed. The warmth she’d discovered in David’s arms lingered, and despite the horror of the night, a little bubble of hope kindled within her. It had been a long time since she’d felt that way. A very long time indeed.

*              *              *

Davy left his brother’s office weak with relief, utterly confused, and on a mission to inflict pain on someone. Fortunately he knew just where to start.

“Whitfield!” Davy roared twenty minutes later. He stormed across the cobbled street toward the sheriff’s office. Deputy Whitfield stood outside the jailhouse, illuminated in the pale light from a streetlamp.

Jesse Whitfield started and turned slowly, expression pensive. To his credit he didn’t turn tail and run.

“How did she get out?” Davy grabbed the deputy’s collar dragging his face to within an inch of his own.

“Christ, Marshal.” Winston gulped, clasping David’s forearms as his feet left the ground. “Put me down!”

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know! Near as I can tell she had a key. There was a key stuck in the lock when I came back in.”

Davy growled under his breath and dropped the other man. “Where is Winston?”

Whitfield tugged at his collar, quickly backing away from Davy. “Interviewing witnesses, sir.”

“Let’s go. We need every man for this, Whitfield. You’ll be interviewing witnesses as well.”

Davy trekked the few blocks back to the munitions plant with a contrite Deputy Whitfield in toe. Lost in thought, David did not speak to the other man, but allowed his mind to be consumed by Lilly.
I love you…
The sweet words she’d spoken swirled through his head, battering the brick and mortar walls of commonsense he’d erected around his heart. He would have killed for her tonight. He
would
find the son of a bitch who’d harmed her and feed him fists.

“Marshal Langston!” Deputy Winston waved as Davy approached the small crowd lingering outside the munitions plant. “How is Miss Hudson?”

“She’s all right,” Davy replied, stopping beside the other man. “Any luck with the interviews?”

“Yes. You’ll want to hear this.” Winston motioned to the man at his left. “This is Timothy Harrison. He initially came upon the attack.”

A man of perhaps fifty, Mr. Harrison stood nearly as tall as Davy with every inch as much brawn. Garbed in well-worn trousers, a faded lawn shirt and an old leather vest, he appeared to be a hard-working man. “You own a livery stable if I’m not mistaken?”

“That’s correct, Marshal.”

“Tell Marshal Langston what you told me,” Winston urged.

“A little before dark I saw a young woman cross the street over by that corner.” He pointed through the darkness in the general direction of one of the streetlamps. “I didn’t think much of it except that she shouldn’t be out alone. Less than a minute later I heard a scream for help.” He took off his hat, wiping a weathered palm over his face, genuine concern etched his features. “I stopped my wagon and ran into the alley. He dropped the girl the minute he saw me. I started to chase after him, but stopped to check on the lady. She was just lying there still as death. Her attacker got away, sir. I’m dreadful sorry about that.”

“So you actually saw the bastard?”

“Not really,” Harrison said regretfully. “I can tell you he was dressed all in dark clothes, with gloves on and a hat, but I couldn’t see much of anything what with all the shadows and it being dusk.”

“Was he tall? Short? Thin?”

“Not as tall as you, Marshal, but he weren’t short,” Harrison supplied. “He looked to be fit, probably a young fella.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

Harrison shook his head. “Can’t say as I would. He had a limp though, ran damn fast for a man with a limp.”

A slow burn lit in Davy’s gut. “A limp you say.” His gaze locked with Deputy Winston’s.

“Davy,” the deputy warned. “Don’t go do anything stupid.”

*              *              *

“Marshal!”

“Speak of the devil.” Davy and Joe Winston turned in tandem later that night, spying none other than Marcus Brady. The reporter wore a black suit. “We were just looking for you.” Davy’s hands balled to iron fists.

“Tell us, Brady,” Joe sidled forward, subtly placing himself between Davy and Marcus. “Where were you tonight?”

“Jesus,” Brady muttered. “I did not hurt Miss Hudson.”

“Oh, no? We have evidence to the contrary.”

Panic flickered in Marcus’s eyes as his gaze flipped from Joe to Davy. He stumbled back a step. “Listen for a moment, please.”

David crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Marcus with his most intimidating glare. “We’re listening.”

Brady gulped. “I’ve been at the newspaper all evening. I had a story for tomorrow’s edition that needed to go to typeset and then I was a going to find you.”

Davy’s glare never wavered. He’d had over a decade of military experience to hone this particular glower.

Marcus gulped, shifting nervously, and looked to Deputy Winston. “I have some information you need to see immediately.”

“Regarding the murders?”

“Yes. This is a big story and none of you are talking, so I wired every lawman and reporter I know on the east coast. I’ve been compiling a file and I may have found a match to our serial killer.”

“You jest,” Davy scoffed.

“The victim’s name was Jessica Potter.”

“Go on.” Davy dropped his arms back to his side, ready to listen despite his suspicions regarding Brady.

“I was a Union Army correspondent during the war,” Marcus began, pulling a wire from his pocket. “I made a lot of contacts, one of whom is a former police inspector from New York City, Jason Donovan. Jason investigated the murder of a young woman, Jessica Potter in 1861.” He handed Davy the telegram. “Apparently the murder fits our profile perfectly.”

Davy’s eyes scoured the wire, drinking in the words. “The girl murdered was the New York City mayor’s daughter?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus nodded matter-of-factly. “I still lived in New York when it happened. Ugly affair. The murder splashed across every headline in the city for weeks. I didn’t know Donovan then, or any of the specifics until Jason responded to me. In any case Jason and Mayor Potter are traveling here as we speak.”

“They’re that certain it is the same killer?” The brief wire wasn’t specific enough to discern any detailed similarities.

Marcus shrugged.

“I need to see your files.”

“I will retrieve them and bring everything to your office, Marshal.”

Brady tipped his cap and strode away.

Davy narrowed his gaze, deep in thought. “Follow him,” he ordered Deputy Winston. “I still believe he has something to do with this.”

11
^th
Hour Rose

Eleven

The sun tipped at ten o’clock in the morning as Davy lumbered along the line of whitewashed wooden fences to the Hudson’s home. He nodded a terse greeting to the armed Yankee soldiers milling about the cottage periphery. Exhausted and without sleep for well over twenty-four hours, he plodded up the walk and banged on the door.

A moment later Davy heard shuffling and the rattle of door locks from the opposite side of the portal. The door swung inward, revealing George’s fatigued visage.

“I need to speak with Lilly,” David said unceremoniously. “Alone.” She’d wreaked havoc on his mind for the better part of his sleepless hours. That musical,
I love you…
refused to leave his head.

George stepped back, allowing Davy entrance. “Can I ask why?” he asked, mannerism unhurried.

Davy ground his teeth. “No.”

George gave a slow, contemplative nod. “Very well then. She’s upstairs. First door on the left.”

Davy grasped the banister without another word, mounting the wooden stairs two at a time.

“No funny business,” George called after him. “The doc will be here to check on her any minute.”

Ignoring the sheriff’s quip, Davy reached the top of the stairs and hesitated on the faded blue rug running the length of the narrow hallway. He slowly approached the door on the left and tapped his knuckles on the panel.

No answer.

He tried the knob, opening the door a few inches. He peered into the room, which exuded Lilly’s aura. The decorum was orderly, everything in its place. “Lilly?” He opened the door a bit further, his gaze shifting to the opposite wall and landing on the bed.

“Oh, Davy!”

The distraught cry left him totally off guard. Lilly sat on the edge of the bed with shoulders hunched forward, tears streaming down her face. He’d
never
seen her cry before. He’d never seen her in such a shambles either. She wore a simple white nightgown that appeared to have more patches than original fabric. Her hair—usually smooth and orderly—fell in wavy chunks from a fat braid lying over her right shoulder. Frozen in place, he did naught but stare, at a total loss for word or action. Lilly’s red splotched, tear stained face raised to him. Her eyes sparkled with fresh tears and his heart clenched.

“I—”
Hiccup. “
I r-read the l-letter.”

Letter? What letter?

Another bout of vicious sobs wracked her slender body.

Sparked to action, Davy crossed the room in two strides. Dropping to a knee before her, he slipped both arms around her petite frame, drawing her shaking figure against him. “Easy, love. I’m here.” An unfolded letter sitting atop her rumpled bedspread caught his eye.
Ah, yes… the letter from her Daniel.
Understanding and empathy lit instantly within him. Without releasing her he rose up and sat on the edge of her bed. He lifted her up, pulling her across his lap. She curled into him instantly, turning her face into his chest, her knees bent up against his side. He cradled her as she released what he suspected were years upon years of built up tears, letting them wet his shirt. Ever so gently he brushed his lips across her temple, stroking her arm and back with his hand.

Gradually the broken sobs ebbed and she released a shuddering breath. “I never should have read it,” she murmured into his chest.

“Why do you believe that?” His lips grazed her hairline once more.

She sighed and wiggled a bit more snuggly into his lap like a kitten finding her niche. “It just brings back so many memories and powerful emotions. All of the things I can no longer have. Do you understand?”

Davy swallowed, hard. Oh, how he understood. Words did not exist to relate the depth of his understanding. If he dwelled on it long enough he’d be sucked back into the black void hovering at the periphery of his existence… ever ready to claim his soul.

“I suppose the letter helped me put a few things in perspective.” She paused. “Daniel spoke of mundane things. He was in Tennessee when he wrote the letter, he lost some money and his favorite watch playing cards, and he found the August heat unbearable.”