Oliver looked from the paper to the missing coat. That was what Ansley had been doing in the archives that morning. He had gone rogue and was walking straight into the lion’s den alone. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, Oliver slammed the door shut and bolted toward the stairs. No matter how much he couldn’t stand Christopher Ansley or how much he hated him for stringing him along, he wasn’t letting that arrogant fool get himself killed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Going Rogue
Felipe watched Teresafrom the corner of his eye as they slowly walked down the steps toward the head inspector’s office, neither one wanting to part first. Telling her he had to work again so soon after his apology felt like a slap in the face, but she had taken it well, all things considered. They had reached the landing for the second floor when Felipe’s stomach dropped. Footsteps thundered down the steps overhead followed by a muffled curse as Oliver rounded the corner.
“Ansley has gone to find Dr. Yates on his own,” he called breathlessly. “But I don’t know where it is, and he’s walking straight into danger.”
Felipe took the paper from Oliver’s outstretched hand as he gave Teresa an apologetic look. “Bellamy Manor? Is that his sister’s house?”
“Her late husband’s, I think?”
“Are you sure he went here?” When Oliver nodded, Felipe added, “I’ll run to the archives and—”
“Bellamy, as in the inventor?” Teresa asked, looking over Felipe’s shoulder at the paper. “I know where this is. It’s on Coney Island.” When Felipe stared at her with a cocked brow, she rolled her eyes. “Mama and Ma Ma brought me to some of his soirees before he died. He would host artists and performers in the summer. At the last party I went to, I got to go on one of the amusement rides he built, and there was even a clockwork elephant. It was wonderful.”
Staring at his daughter, Felipe vaguely remembered her talking about that party all summer. He had been away on a case, but when he returned home weeks later, it was still all she could talk about. Felipe looked from his daughter’s open features to the paper. His instinct said to leave her in the safety of the society, but if they had to go to the archives to get the address and consult maps, they would waste precious time. After what happened to Herman Judd and how Joe went missing, he wasn’t willing to risk Ansley’s safety, even if he was a thoughtless ass.
“Teresa, would you be able to find your way back to the house after all this time?”
“If you can get us to Coney Island on your own first, I think I can.”
Felipe sighed. “Oliver, take Teresa and load a steamer with what we need. I’m going to ask the head inspector to send back up and an arrest warrant in case this goes south. We’ll leave as soon as I’m back.”
***
RAIN PATTERED AGAINSTthe windshield in a steady tattoo as Felipe drove across Coney Island. In the passenger seat, Teresa squinted at the scenery outside the window. Occasionally she asked him to slow down, so she could open the door and sniff the air with her heightened jaguar senses before giving him the next direction. It was barely six o’clock, but with the storm rolling in, the skies had darkened to the point Felipe was glad to have his night vision. In the backseat, Oliver said nothing, but the steady stream of anxiety sluicing across the tether and the way he methodically checked his gladstone, repeatedly, made it clear he was worried about Ansley’s safety. Felipe couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t say it to Oliver or Teresa, but he sincerely hoped they would find Ansley pulled over lost along the way.
“Turn here,” Teresa said, pointing to a path barely visible through the trees, except for the sandy steamer treads left in the grass.
Cutting through the thick copse, Felipe did a doubletake as a massive, moss-clad brick wall seemed to rise from the forest floor. Framed in the gate’s open mouth stood a mansion that was large but not grand or sumptuous by Manhattan standards. Light dimly glowed through the filmy lower windows. Despite being uninhabited for some time, he could see the comfortable house it had once been with its peeling blue exterior and large swing, which now hung dejectedly on one chain under the portico. As they drove onto the property, the ironwork gate howled and banged in the wind as thunder rumbled overhead. Beyond the house loomed rows of brick buildings that must have been the sheds and warehouses that housed Bellamy’s workshops. Lightning burst in the distance, illuminating the wreckage of steel fingers reaching for the sky.
“It looks so much sadder now,” Teresa said quietly as Felipe pulled the steamer into the tree line out of sight.
Felipe spotted one of the society’s grey steamers parked close to the house and tamped down the foreboding building in his gut before Oliver could sense it. Ansley had obviously gotten there already, though he was nowhere to be seen. Turning to his daughter, Felipe caught her eyeing the house as a cheeky smile crossed her lips. Shewasan adult but a young one. No matter what she knew of the world, she didn’t know the things he had seen and dealt with as an investigator that still haunted his nightmares, and if he had his way, she never would.
