“That’s the last of it,” Lewis said after several more hours.
It was past ten o’clock in the evening, and all Peter had gained was the sinking feeling that he’d wasted an entire day. “None of what we have here is damning enough to see that man hang for the crimes he’s committed.”
What the hell would he tell Lord Carver and the Prince Regent?
“Could you be wrong about him?” Lewis asked.
“I suppose…” Peter thought back on everything he knew about Croft. The clues that suggested his father had run a criminal empire, with Croft most likely employed in a prominent role.
The only thing that made sense was for him to continue this legacy. Having dealt with the manhimself, Peter had no doubt he was more than capable of such a task. So he shook his head. “I don’t believe we’re wrong about him in the least. If anything, I’m starting to fear we may have been duped.”
Concern settled heavily across Dorian’s broad shoulders when Kendrick came to call upon him, the early hour suggesting he’d come as soon as it was deemed appropriate for him to stop by. It was only nine-thirty. Dorian had just returned from his morning walk and was getting ready to tutor Tara and Holly in French. Luncheon would follow and then some vigorous afternoon training.
This schedule would now have to be altered. He asked Branton to tell the young women to read the next chapter from Charles Perault’sContes de ma mère l'Oye,when he brought a tea tray. The butler departed immediately after, allowing Dorian to give his full attention to Kendrick.
“You look as though you’ve come from a funeral. I’m guessing there’s a problem you wish to discuss.” He indicated the tray. “Tea?”
“No thank you.” Kendrick waited while Dorian filled his own cup then told him, “Mrs. Croft delivered the requested files to me Tuesday evening. Took me the better part of yesterday to sift through them.”
Dorian stilled. This ought to be progress. “And?”
“She assured me they would contain the proofrequired to take Croft down. Unfortunately, this isn’t the case.”
A sliver of unease snaked its way along Dorian’s spine. He’d developed his own concerns regarding Samantha – suspicions he hadn’t wished to address. He still didn’t. So he watched Kendrick in slow contemplation before suggesting, “You probably missed something.”
“I can assure you, I have not.”
“Croft probably didn’t put anything damning in writing then.”
“Or your agent is protecting him for some reason.”
The words shivered through Dorian’s mind. It was exactly what he had feared might happen. Her insistence he prove that she still had to follow through on her mission was further evidence. Had she been anyone else, he’d have cast her aside already, considered her a lost cause.
But this was Samantha – the best damn agent he’d trained. Better than anyone he’d ever worked with during his years in the Foreign Service. He believed in her loyalty. At the very least, he would not let the likes of Kendrick call her a traitor.
“You’re wrong.” Dorian reclined in his chair, his teacup cradled between his hands while affecting a casual ease he did not feel. “If the information was there, Samantha would have produced it. Let’s be honest, Kendrick. Your mission was flawed from the start when you made it dependent on the acquisition ofinformation you believe to exist when in fact it may not.”
The darkening of Kendrick’s gaze proved he’d taken offense. Still, he managed to keep his voice level while saying, “Men who’ve collaborated with Croft in the past have gone missing, Harlowe. Some have turned up dead while others have lied about their criminal actions, insisting they were guilty of murder, choosing the noose over Croft’s wrath.”
“I’m not disputing the man’s ruthlessness, Kendrick. All I’m saying is that there’s probably nothing to link him to any of it.” The more Dorian thought on the matter, the more obvious this became. So much so, he couldn’t quite fathom how stupid they’d been to ignore the obvious. “If you killed someone, would you keep a record for law enforcement to use against you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why the hell would you suppose Croft would do so?” It was a theory that had been labelled as fact. As such, it had never been questioned. But the time had clearly come for this to change.
“We know he keeps records of people – information that can be used against them if needed. One individual has come forward regarding this matter, claiming attempts were made to blackmail him. He was told he’d have to do as asked if he wanted the file the Crofts had on him returned.”
“Forgive me, but gathering information on people is hardly illegal. And if the information in question threatens to ruin their reputations, it says more aboutwhotheyare as people than Croft. Or his father. Let’s not forget him since I’m sure most of what you will find was carried out at his request.”
“If Croft was involved, he’d still be charged.” Arms crossed, Kendrick stared at Dorian, who took another sip of his tea. “Stanton is convinced Croft killed his son.”
Dorian snorted. “You and I both know that scoundrel ended up exactly where he belonged, whether by his own hand or Croft’s. Makes no difference to me as long as the nasty business he was involved in has come to an end.”
“No man should have the sole power to decide who lives or who dies. He has no right to play judge and executioner. That is what this is truly about. Croft’s constant disregard for the law has to end.” A raised eyebrow preceded the following words. “What if he makes a mistake?”
“There’s always that risk, I suppose. The problem is without any proof, you don’t have the means to stop him.”
“You think not?”
