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Authors: Tracie Peterson

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BOOK: Hidden in a Whisper
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As if conjuring up Mr. Smith with that thought, Reg opened the door to find the jittery man on the other side. “Is everything ready?” Smith tenuously questioned.

Reg smiled. “Of course it is. Did you doubt me?”

Smith took a hesitant step inside the room. He leaned against the open door and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty forehead. “It's just so important that this matter be resolved. I have to have that money.”

Nodding, Reg went to his suitcase and pulled out an envelope.

“Here's your share of money from the sale of the stolen goods. I think you'll be rather pleased.”

Smith nodded and moved forward to lessen the distance between them, without thinking to close the door behind him. Somewhere down the lighted corridor a door slammed, causing Smith to jump.

Panic-stricken, he looked over his shoulder, then snatched the cash. “It will help, but it won't come near to being the hundreds of thousands I need.”

“Well, then,” Reg said, straightening up, “it will only be a matter of time until the insurance money comes through and you have all that you need. As for me, I plan to make my way to England immediately.

You may forward my share there. I'll leave you my address.”

Smith nodded. “You're that certain this is going to work?”

“I am very confident of the matter. I've kept everyone in the dark about this plan. Even the two men I hired to do some of the dirty work only know a small part. You'll see. This will come together in such perfect order that no one will be the wiser for it.”

“How will you set the fire?” Smith asked softly.

“It's better you don't know all the details. You can't be condemned for what you don't know,” Reg replied. “Oh, and here are those papers I took from Miss Taylor's office. Rather useless in their content, but they served the purpose of creating a minor distraction, just as ransacking Parker's office set that poor man off on a wild chase.”

“I don't think it was the mess you made of his office that set him off on the chase,” Smith replied. “He's bent on finding Miss Taylor, and I can't say I blame him. She seems like a very nice young woman.

I only pray she remains unharmed.”

Reginald frowned and retrieved the last of his clothing from the closet. “She is a wonderful woman—a woman whom I intend to make my wife.”

“Your wife? But I thought her interest was in Parker.”

“It was. But that is in the past. She loves me now and plans to share a life with me in England.”

“I see. Then I suppose you know where she is,” Smith said, wiping his forehead again. When Reginald refused to acknowledge this statement one way or another, Smith continued. “Well, after you burn this place to the ground, I don't much care
whom
you hitch yourself up with.”

“Well, I do,” Braeden said, casually leaning against the doorjamb. “I think the marshal here would probably care as well.”

Marshal Schmidt came to stand in the middle of the doorway but said nothing. Braeden eyed Reg with a look that demanded the truth. Reg knew the man would not leave without answers to his questions.

“It seemed rather strange that you and Tomas should spend so much time pouring over inventory sheets when there was so much else necessary to ready this place for the grand opening,” Braeden began. “It also seemed strange that Rachel's inventory stopped disappearing, at least according to your tallies, while mine continued to show discrepancies.” He walked toward Smith and Worthington, appearing for all the world as though they were about to discuss the weather. “Of course, Tomas was really rather good at giving us the slip on more than one occasion. Weren't you, Tomas?” he called out, and the boy sheepishly appeared to stand beside the marshal.

“You see,” Braeden continued, watching Reg carefully, “Tomas has just given us a full confession. He explained how you approached him to help you steal valuable articles from Casa Grande and how he's used the money to help his family. Tomas had a very honorable reason for his thievery, but I wonder what your reason might have been, Mr. Worthington.”

Reg shrugged and nervously twisted his hands. “The boy is lying, and you don't frighten me with your bullying ways.”

“The boy isn't lying. I just heard more than a simple confession of stealing silver from your little conversation with Smith. You plan to destroy Casa Grande. I suppose the one question I have for you both is why?”

Smith seemed to understand that the matter needed to be taken quickly into hand. “Look here, Parker, you seem like a reasonable man, and while I don't know the marshal here, I would imagine he's intelligent enough to realize when something can benefit him.”

Parker exchanged glances with the marshal and smiled. “He's a very intelligent man. He managed to lead us here tonight.”

Smith bit his lip and nodded. “Yes, well, then you will understand when I explain the dilemma the railroad finds itself in. The Santa Fe has made some poor investments and, in the course of this last year, has suffered a financial setback. Their investment in Casa Grande alone has cost them hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“So how does it figure that you would benefit from destroying the resort? I thought the Santa Fe and Harvey Company were hoping this would be their best joint effort to date,” Braeden said seriously.

Smith nodded. “They do. However, I've found a way to make it pay off in much quicker order. Fire insurance will more than cover the expense put into this place and leave money in addition to those expenses.”

“Fire insurance? You figure to burn the place down and collect on the insurance?” the marshal asked after taking a wooden toothpick from his mouth. He looked for all intents and purposes to be rather bored with the entire affair.

“Yes,” Smith said flatly. “The idea to sell off the inventory was Worthington's idea, but I went along with it. It wasn't like the stuff would be useful to anyone after the fire. Worthington pointed out that we could take what we wanted and sell it off. No matter how much we received for the articles, it would still be a profit to both of us.”

Smith moved closer to the men. “Look, I can make it worthwhile to both of you. I will control that insurance money when it comes in.

Tonight is perfect for burning the place down because there's a storm brewing off in the distance, and once it hits here, we can plead a lightning strike or the wind knocking over a lantern. Then the wind will whip up a fury and hopefully—” “Threaten the life of every man, woman, and child in residence,” Braeden said sarcastically. “You really haven't thought this through, Smith. Are you ready to be a murderer as well as a wealthy man?”

“I don't stand to be wealthy from this,” Smith replied. “There are some matters that have made this situation necessary. The money will help to keep me out of trouble in Topeka. You can't possibly understand.” “Try me.”

Smith took a deep breath and blew it out. As he did that, thunder rumbled off in the distance. “We're losing time. The storm is moving in fast.”

“The way I figure it,” Braeden said, “you have all the time in the world to explain. You'll have even more time in your jail cell.”

“You needn't threaten us, Parker. We know what we're doing,” Reginald replied. Parker could threaten and rage all he wanted, but Reg held the winning card. He would have things his way. He would be the top man for once in his life. “We have a plan, and we mean to carry through with that plan. It's out of your hands, and frankly, it's out of my hands.”

“What do you mean?” Braeden asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I mean that soon this place will be in a full blaze. You can't prove anything; it's your word against ours. And while Tomas may have told you a great deal, he'll quickly side with us when he sees that the welfare of his family depends upon it. Your reputation is ruined here, and Mr. Smith and Mr. Harvey are the best of friends. So in spite of your bringing in the marshal, I doubt seriously anyone will listen to your tale of intrigue. They'll remember your rejection of the woman you ruined—of her desire to marry you in spite of your actions. You are known now to be a liar, and frankly, I doubt anyone will give much consideration to what you have to say.”

“Marshal, surely you could use the extra money?” Smith said in a questioning tone.

The man grinned. “I reckon I can always use a little extra money.”

Smith nodded. “Then you'll help us?”

The marshal shook his head. “Nope. I didn't say that.”

“But … I thought from what you said about being able to use the extra money,” Smith countered, “that you were agreeing to go along with our plan. I know that if you will help us, Tomas will be happy to go back to keeping his mouth shut on the matter and rejoin our effort.”

“Tomas isn't going to rejoin you,” Braeden said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And you can't buy the marshal, so what do you propose to do now?”

“Gentlemen,” Smith interjected, “we needn't argue amongst ourselves. I can make your silence quite worthwhile. I'm prepared to offer both you and the marshal two thousand dollars in order to simply escort Tomas to jail and forget everything else. I'm sure that by the time you remove the boy and process him for his crimes, that the destruction of this fine resort will already be well underway. So what do you say? Two thousand dollars is a lot of money to turn your back on.”

Braeden smiled, but it was a hard, unfeeling smile. Reg felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the cool, unemotional expression on the man's face. “I have more than enough money to see to my needs, Mr. Smith. I hardly need your blood money.”

“It's not blood money, Mr. Parker. No one has to be injured. We'll sound the alarm well in advance and everyone should make it to safety before the fire gets out of control.” Smith stepped forward, his face pale, his skin sweaty. “I need this money, Mr. Parker. I'm afraid I did something rather foolish and gambled a good deal of money away. It wasn't even mine, but rather money the Santa Fe entrusted me with. If I can successfully obtain the Santa Fe share of the hotel insurance, which of course has to be shared with Mr. Harvey, I can manage things a bit longer. At least until I'm able to make back the money I borrowed.” “Stole, don't you mean?” questioned Braeden.

Reg saw a brilliant flash of lightning and smiled. The thought of the storm made him feel as if everything would be all right. He hadn't dared to hope they would be fortunate enough to have a lightning storm in the area, but now it seemed as if the destruction of Casa Grande was preordained.

If only they could force Parker to cooperate. They were too close now to lose everything they'd worked for. If Parker and the marshal wouldn't agree, Reg would have little trouble in seeing them both killed. And with Parker dead, there would be no further obstacle to Rachel's love. At this thought, Reg chuckled, causing all heads to turn toward him.

“What's so funny, Mr. Worthington?” Braeden questioned.

“You are,” Reg said with a smile. “You stand here worrying about your precious hotel, when Rachel is still far from your reach. But it isn't important because she's within my care and that is all that matters. I shall take her to England with me, and we will live rather happily there. I would imagine she might mourn you for a time, but only
in the sense of regretting her nai
.”

Braeden practically flew at him, grabbing Reginald by his coat. “Tell me where she is!” he demanded.

Reg thought it all rather amusing. It seemed ironic that he would be standing here in Parker's grip, while Smith begged the man to come in on their scheme. The marshal just stood there not saying a word, while Tomas trembled in the doorway, too frightened to run away and too unnerved to speak. To Reg it seemed like a poorly acted stage play. The final act, perhaps. The scene just before the ultimate climax, where all the pertinent players were gathered and the truth was finally told. He laughed out loud even as Parker shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth.

“Where is Rachel?”

“She's safe,” Reg replied, still laughing. “She's with me and she's safe.”

Outside, the wind picked up and lightning once again flashed to pierce the pitch-black darkness of the night. Braeden dropped his hold on Reg and turned to the marshal. “We need to get this trio over to your jail. I don't know what they have planned, but I'm determined to bring it to a halt. I'll—” “Just a minute, Parker,” the marshal cut in, tilting his head in the air. “I smell smoke.”

Braeden looked at Reginald, as did Smith. But it was Smith who spoke. “Is this your work?”

Reg tried to rationalize what they were asking, for his mind had already drifted to thoughts of Rachel Taylor in his arms. The storm outside and affairs of the hotel no longer seemed important. He looked up with a blank stare. “I've done nothing. The fire will start at two.”

BOOK: Hidden in a Whisper
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