Chapter Nine
Rough hands shovedFanny to the floor. A door slammed behind her. Free of the brute’s iron grip, she crawled to her knees and clawed at the sack over her head, desperate to be free of the torturous thing. It smelled so bad of rotten produce that she gagged and choked. It scratched her skin. It blocked her vision. Several moments of frantic effort later, she yanked it off.
One thing didn’t change. She still couldn’t see. Total darkness surrounded her. Nothing alleviated the gloom except a tiny sliver of light under the door they had closed behind her. She tried the handle. Three times. With no luck. Locked in.
She clenched her muscles, determined to avoid panic, pushed herself to her feet, and took a step, arms out. Her hands bumped into a shelf of some sort. Running them along it and from side to side, she quickly concluded she had been pushed into a windowless closet a few paces long and the length of both her arms wide.
She sank to the floor and scooted to the back wall. Questions—and fears—flew at her as if a swarm of bees swirled around.Where is Amy? Did they hurt her? Who would do such a thing and why? Where am I, and how could anyone find me? Does Eli know I’m gone?
Eli.
She pulled up her knees and hugged them to comfort herself. She clung to one thought: Eli would figure it out. He may not fit what she had looked for in a hero, but he didn’t fail people. He would find her.
*
Eli left theHappy Cock with a torn coat, black eye, and one solid piece of information. He knew with certainty that people there were afraid of something—or more likely someone.
Rob, damn his hide, is right.
There had been no sign of Fanny. No sign of Edwards, either, but then, it was still midday. Not one person had admitted to seeing either of them. A bruiser had blocked the stairway leading up, and questions about a basement had gotten Eli roughed up for his trouble. Roughed up and tossed out.
The reactions to his questions showed him that some people connected to the Happy Cock had Fanny. Rage urged a frontal attack. Common sense told him stealth would work better and that he ought not attempt it alone. But with time passing and Fanny at risk, every minute counted.
He could go for help, but he needed more information about the layout of the Happy Cock, places they might hold her, entrances and exits, the men who congregated there.
The building next to the Happy Cock stood four floors high, two more than the tavern. A narrow walkway separated the two buildings, more of a close than an alley. The close was no help, but the upper-story windows would give him a clear view of the tavern and more information. He might figure out where they had her.
It took him twenty minutes and a hefty infusion of cash to get past the proprietor of the wine shop on the ground floor and through the door to the apartment overlooking the top floor of the Happy Cock.
There were two windows on that stage. Vague shadows moved behind a shade in the one nearest the street, just clear enough to tell him the Happy Cock indulged in more vices than drink and gambling. Neither of the two figures appeared unwilling. Not Fanny.Can’t be, he thought, though his heart pounded in his chest.Think, Eli. Panic won’t help her.
He moved his gaze to the second window, this one with the shade drawn. Two more bruisers sat at a table playing cards, a bottle of gin between them. As he watched, the one from downstairs came into the room. Eli shifted his sore shoulder, eager to give the worm some of the treatment he’d given Eli. It had taken two of them to toss him out. The other must be down in the taproom. That made four thugs. What sort of tavern needed that much muscle? One with the wherewithal to snatch a woman off the street.
From his vantage point, he studied the building. The structure stretched further back than might be obvious from the street, with at least one more room on both floors and yet another on the ground floor, at the back. He pulled out his pocket notebook and sketched out the building. One of the downstairs rooms would be a kitchen.
What is the other? And where is the entrance to the basement gambling den?He had no doubt it existed. A survey of the rear was in order. He clambered down the stairs and asked the wine shop proprietor if there was a rear entrance. The man looked pained but led him out back.
“Mind you, watch out for the bullyboys that come and go back there. Though, think on, you look like you already met them.” The proprietor sniffed at him.
“What do you know about what happens at the Happy Cock?” Eli asked.
“As little as possible. Enough to know the neighborhood would be better off without it,” the man said.
The shop opened onto a wide alley with a mews behind it. The space narrowed next door where an entire room had been built onto the back of the Happy Cock. Eli quickly added to his notes and sketches, seeing no sign of activity, while the shop owner watched him carefully.
Pulling on his depths of sense, he forced himself to face the fact that he could not invade the den of evil he had sketched. Not now. Not alone. He needed to circle back, check on the children, and find his brother.
“When I come back—and I will—I will not be alone. If you really believe you’d be better off without the vermin next door, look the other way,” he told the shop owner.
“What? I hear nothing. I see nothing,” the man replied.
Eli grunted and set out the way he’d come.
Lights through the window of the drapery greeted him, reminding him that late-afternoon shadows were forming and Fanny would soon face night. Alone. He fought back sick; it would help no one.
A surprisingly large crowd milled inside.
“Mr. Benson! You look terrible,” Wil exclaimed.
