“Barely.”
“Deserving better.”
“Again, barely.”
“You’ll be caught and charged and hanged for it.”
“You sound very sure. I admire your confidence in your sheriff.”
“And my husband. And Miss Headley’s father. They are a formidable triumvirate.”
“That remains to be seen.” The station floor vibrated under his feet. “Feel that? That’s the train approaching. Still a ways off but definitely on its way. About time for you to stand up now. Take my bags. They will occupy your hands. Stand here. In front of me.”
Lily stood and hefted a valise in each hand then stood where he indicated, her back to him.
“No hesitation? No questions? Perhaps you are not fearless after all, Mrs. Shepard. Perhaps you know nothing but fear. Is that it?”
“Yes, Mr. Cabot. You have it exactly.”
•••
Roen pointed to the lone car on the side track as he and Ben rounded the corner of the station. “That’s hers. That’s the Headley crest on the wrought iron rails at the back.”
“Pretentious,” said Ben.
“Victor Headley can trace his family to the New Amsterdam settlement, or he says he can.” Roen stepped on the track. “I can feel the train coming on.”
“Then we should cross here before it pulls in.”
“Shouldn’t we let Mr. Winslow know we’re going to search her car?”
“Solomon will make noises for five or six minutes and then he’ll tell us to go ahead. I aim to save those five or six minutes for kissing my wife. I’m doing you the same favor.”
Grinning, Roen nodded. “I think I’ll enjoy kissing your wife.”
Far from taking offense, Ben gave a bark of laughter. It was largely swallowed by the oncoming train’s whistle as it approached the station. The men hurried across the tracks and over the rough gravel on the side beds.
“I doubt it will be open,” said Roen as they climbed onto the small balcony at the rear of the car. He twisted the handle. The door didn’t budge. Shrugging, he pulled on the sleeve of his coat so it was tight around his arm and jammed his elbowhard into one of the window panes in the door. Glass shattered. He cleared it out of the frame then stuck his arm inside and jiggled the knob and opened the door. “There.”
Ben smiled, amused, as he followed Roen inside. He stopped once he crossed the threshold and whistled appreciatively while Roen walked deeper into the room. “Ain’t this something?”
“Indeed,” Roen said wryly. The car’s appointments were spare owing to the size of the space, but every piece was quality, from the ornately carved walnut headboard of the three-quarter bed to the round dining table and four matching chairs with the same cabriolet legs and ball and claw feet. The vanity had a large gilt-framed mirror and was cleared of everything except a fine layer of dust. Women’s fashion magazines, apparently the only publications that Victorine read, were scattered on the golden yellow damask divan.
Ben began searching the small drawers in the vanity while Roen looked in the drawers that were built into the base of the bed. They moved methodically around the room, examining the narrow wardrobe and linen closet and the inside of an upholstered bench that stretched the length of two side windows. There was no writing desk in the car, but there were papers scattered on top of the table. Roen divided the papers and gave half to Ben to look over.
“Correspondence to her father,” said Ben. “Nothing about the pregnancy. She writes here that you proposed and the wedding will be in January.”
Roen shook his head. “When is the letter dated?”
“It’s not.” He handed it to Roen.
“It would appear she was keeping her options open. Planning for every eventuality. The correspondence I was reading informed her father the marriage had already taken place. Again, no date. I think she was amusing herself.”
Ben nodded. He picked up something else to read. “Here’s the contract between her and Mr. Cabot. I wonder why she left it here.”
“Perhaps it’s a draft.”
There were no papers of any consequence and they left the correspondence and contracts in a neater arrangement thanthey’d found them. Roen stood in place and slowly turned, his eyes taking in the interior space, top to bottom, side to side. He stopped suddenly, arrested by the neatly made bed. “Victorine never made a bed in her life,” he told Ben. “And she had no travel companion to make it for her. Help me with the mattress.”
