The telephone on the desk rang. All conversation stopped while Wilkie listened to someone speaking quickly on the other end. Wilkie stood as he hung up the receiver.
“Holland is on the move,” he said tersely. “Our man watching the house says Holland is loading trunks into a carriage.”
Luke shot out the door, and Nathaniel followed.
Horseback was the fastest way to get to Holland’s house, and Nathaniel followed Luke as he cut through backyards and forded streams. Cold water splashed his trousers, but he ignored it, for every second mattered. If Holland got out of the country, they might never learn the identity of his accomplice in Key West.
Nathaniel blanched in horror at the column of black smoke pouring from the back of the Holland house. “He’s burning everything.”
Luke vaulted off his horse and ran behind the house. Nathaniel followed. For a small fire, the mound of burning papers created plenty of smoke. Holland stood near the flame, a rake in one hand while he sloshed liquid from a tin of kerosene over the papers.
“No!” Luke roared as he ran forward, kicking at the flames, scattering papers and embers across the lawn.
Holland panicked. He dropped the rake and heaved another stack of papers onto the flames. Luke dove after them, reaching into the fire even as Captain Holland sloshed more kerosene onto the blaze. Nathaniel kicked the tin away, and Holland turned on him, punching him in the jaw.
Nathaniel’s teeth cracked and pain made him see sparks, but he didn’t resist. Striking a federal agent was a crime and could be used as an excuse to arrest Holland. Behind him, Luke flung pages out of the fire, but all were burning, their edges curling and turning black.
Nathaniel stamped on them, hoping to salvage them, but Holland attacked again, landing two more punches to his face. The salty tang of blood leaked into his mouth, and it was hardto keep standing, but the unprovoked attack would be enough to get Holland locked up. Nathaniel pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at Holland.
“That’s enough,” he said. “Captain Holland, you’re under arrest for embezzlement from the US War Department.”
“It ought to be treason,” Luke snarled, still trying to save the documents.
Nathaniel kept his gun trained on Holland but spoke to Luke. “Don’t kill yourself. I’ll find all the evidence we need even without those papers.”
“Evidence of what?” Holland asked, his hands in the air but outrage on his face. “I’m burning old paperwork in the privacy of my own home. This is an outrage.”
“Fueling a foreign war is an outrage,” Nathaniel said, satisfaction filling him as he watched understanding dawn on Holland’s panicked face, but behind him, Luke continued his frenzied quest to salvage the papers. Nathaniel couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he hauled Luke back from the flames.
“Stop! Luke, you’ve got to stop.”
The burns on Luke’s hands were evident. The cuffs of his sleeves were blackened and smoking, but his hands were worse. None of the papers looked salvageable.
Luke dropped to his knees, sagging as he stared at the smoldering embers. “We were too late,” he whispered.
“It’s not too late.” Nathaniel had grounds for an arrest, and the entire ugly scandal was about to be blown wide open.
Caroline felt sick as she paced outside the hospital’s examination room, too tense to sit on the hard bench in the hallway. Luke’s hands had been burned, but the doctor hadn’t finished his work, and it was too early to know the severity of her brother’s injuries.
Nathaniel sat on a bench, holding a chunk of ice wrapped in atowel to his swollen lip. They were the only ones in the hallway, for Wilkie and the other agents were all at Holland’s house, scouring for more evidence, but almost everything had been burned.
Luke was right. Theyshouldhave moved faster. She’d gotten a glimpse of his face as they carried him in on a stretcher. He looked destroyed, his face a mask of anguish. To have sacrificed so much for this cause only to lose the evidence in a bonfire was heartbreaking. She had begged to be let inside the room as the doctors began the painful task of treating the burns, but they’d warned her away.
So did Luke. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this,” he had told her, his voice heavy with despair.
It wasn’t fair. Luke deserved a medal, not this.
Nathaniel was far more levelheaded than she was, calmly sitting on the bench and telling her for the third time not to worry. “Holland is in jail. Wilkie will have the time and freedom to launch a proper investigation. It will all be aboveboard.”
Normally Nathaniel’s unshakeable demeanor appealed to her, but did he always have to be so logical? She wanted to scream or throw something, not be calm and rational.
“Sit down,” he urged. “It seems like forever since we’ve had a chance to talk. Tell me what’s next for you now that the new team is on board at the White House.”
She kept pacing. “I have no idea.”
And it bothered her. Except for that single trip to see Luke in Cuba, she had worked every day for the past eighteen months. Now she had the freedom to do something else, but she didn’t know what. It was like being adrift at sea without any wind in her sails and no harbor in sight.
“What about that school?” Nathaniel asked. “I’m sure Ludmila would love to see you there.”
