She disappeared into a dark corner in the shed and sat against the wall. There was nothing left to do now but get a few hours of sleep. She didn’t want to walk around in the dark. Let them find her in the nearest village in the morning. If her father tried to send her to Otford, he wouldn’t find her again.
She closed her eyes and smiled, satisfied in her victory.
She didn’t sleep all that well, not because of her surroundings, or the sharp tool poking her in the back, but because she dreamed of Investigator Pendridge. She dreamed she was being led to the gallows in some town square. He was there, the only one who could help her, but he turned his disinterested gaze away from her and let her hang.
If her dreams would have stopped there, it would have been bad enough, but next he was in an odd-looking room with a bed. He held a sword to his throat.Michael!she cried out. His gaze met hers. There was no glitter in them, no…life. His hair was unkempt and his jaw was covered in dark hair.
What are you doing here?he asked.
I came to find you.Why? Why would she say such a thing?
She forced herself to wake up. She didn’t want to look at him the way she was, as if she cared for him. She was happy to see sunlight streaming in through cracks in the wooden shed walls. It was morning. She would go to the town in Croydon. It was closest and likely the first place the investigator would look. She would make certain people saw her, so they’d tell anyone asking for her.
She sat up and stretched. She heard parts of her crack and pop. She pulled the remaining pins from her hair and ran her fingers through her thick waves. She didn’t like wearing her breeches in daylight, but there was no choice.
She headed for the door, opened it, and fell over the body sprawled across it.
She landed in his arms on the ground. No, she thought, looking into his haunting dark blue eyes. No. He couldn’t be here! Had Old John told him about the passageway in her room? Why would he?
“What are you doing here, Investigator?” she bit out, staring at him.
“I was obviously sleeping. Anyone would have seen me.”
Her mouth opened into an “O” and she pushed off him. “Are you suggesting that I fell upon you on purpose? You are a fool to—”
“Are you telling me you didn’t see me…me?” He looked down at himself, all tall and bulky, dressed in his black clothes.
“I was not expecting you to be lying at my door like a big oaf, blocking my path!”
He rose up on his long legs. The look he gave her warned that he’d like to throttle her. For a moment, she thought he might try. Could she fight him? She’d have seconds to do what she’d been taught…seconds before he grabbed her and used his strength to hold her down.
“Just watch where you’re going next time. It’s not a pleasant way to wake up.”
She straightened, waiting for him to say more. He didn’t. At least not about sleeping.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked her. “What are you trying to prove?”
“I think ’tis clear. I will not stay where I amput.I will escape and, next time, I will not be so easily caught.” She began walking the opposite way of home.
He went to the horse he had tied to a tree—one of her father’s horses and untied it. He vaulted to the saddle and rode toward her.
“So you escaped,” he laughed. “You’ve obviously been doing this for a long time. I knew not to underestimate you.”
Was that a compliment? She smiled and nodded. “How did you know where to find me?”
“John told me about the passageway,” he told her, keeping his horse at a slow pace beside her. “He was worried that you would never come back.”
She smiled, knowing better. “He needed only look in my room to see that I did not leave for good.”
“Oh?” he asked. “What would he look for that would help him know for certain?”
She shrugged her shoulders as if it meant nothing. “A bracelet my father gave me many years ago. I will never wear it, but I would never leave it behind.”
“Why won’t you ever wear it?”
“Did you follow me here and sleep in front of two of my doors to ask me about what I have in my bedroom?”
When he smiled and didn’t answer, she continued. “Besides, ’tis you who is curious. Who are you? Where do you come from? You have not answered any of the questions I put to you so far.”
