Page 70

A man scampered toward them out of the shadows, a knife raised—the bartender from the Golden Harp. Jasper fired his Webley, and the bartender staggered back. Another gunshot rang out, striking the man, though it hadn’t come from Jasper’s weapon. The bartender fell to the crypt floor.

And then, blessed silence came.

All Leo could hear were her own clipped breaths and Tabitha’s whimpering behind the coffin. Leo’s nostrils burned with the acrid chemical odor of spent gunpowder. Her eyes watered from the smoke-filled crypt, but through it, she could see three figures lying on the floor. One of them belonged to Brian Carter. He squirmed and moaned, still alive but wounded.

“You’re out of bullets, Inspector.”

That voice.

Leo pressed closer to Jasper, now seated against the coffin, as Andrew Carter stepped into the light.

“I might have one left,” Jasper replied, his voice labored. Andrew chuffed a laugh at his bravado.

“Where are you shot?” Leo asked Jasper, more concerned for him than she was about Andrew approaching them.

“My side. I don’t think it’s bad,” he told her.

“We’ll let a doctor decide that,” she retorted. She looked up at Andrew, anxious as to what he intended to do now.

Like usual, his two hulking men were with him. One nudged the body of the bartender with his foot, as if to make sure he was dead. The other was rifling through the pockets of Brian’s second cohort, lying prone and motionless on the crypt floor.

“How did you know we were here?” Jasper asked as Leo gripped his arm and helped him to stand.

“I didn’t.” Andrew turned his attention toward his wounded brother. He sauntered over to him. “I was following Brian. He was watching the detectives Desmond Pierce hired. You said they’d lead you to Tabitha, didn’t you, brother? You said you’d bring her to us.”

On the floor, Brian writhed and groaned, his teeth clenched in pain.

“But you were hiding something. I could see it in your eyes, Bri, even if Sean and Rory couldn’t,” Andrew said with deadly calm. “Now, I know what it was.”

He’d overheard his brother’s confession. Knew Brian had been the one to spill their nephew’s blood and toss him into the Thames.

“Get him up,” Andrew ordered. His two hired men hauled Brian to his feet, wrenching an anguished cry from the older Carter’s throat.

“Just do it, coward.” Brian spit a gob of blood as he gargled a cough. “Kill me.”

Leo eyed the blood dribbling from his mouth. A bullet had either pierced his lungs, and they were now filling with blood, or his abdomen had been struck. Either way, his wound was likely fatal.

Jasper was not coughing up blood and seemed to be in minimal pain, but those things didn’t put her at much ease.

“I think I’ll let Sean have that pleasure,” Andrew replied to his brother. He jutted his chin to his men. “Get this turncoat into the carriage.”

They moved, lugging Brian to the stairs, his legs limp and toes dragging behind him.

Andrew holstered his gun. His eyes caught on Tabitha and the reverend, who had both found the courage to stand and peer over the end of the marble coffin.

“I’ll make sure Sean knows the woman had nothing to do with it,” Andrew said. “So long as she keeps quiet. You too, Reverend. You should all go before the coppers come. The gunfire will have drawn attention.”

Tabitha exchanged a look with Reverend Thorpe. He nodded, and in a flash of motion, she ran for the stairs.

“As for you, Jamey,” Andrew said, an eyebrow hitched, “I think you ought to let Miss Spencer take you to a doctor.” He turned and followed Tabitha from the crypt.

Leo let out a long breath, her legs quivering. “Let me see your wound.”

He lifted his coat, and Leo winced at the blood darkening the right side of his waistcoat. He covered it again. “There isn’t time for you to take a closer look. Trust me, it’s a minor wound. You have to leave.”

She reeled back. “You are staying?”

“It’s a crime scene. Men have been killed. I cannot just leave.”