Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (12 page)

God, she hated him. Since Hunter had come into her life, she’d felt stronger, allowing herself to experience more anger than fear. How she would love to spit in his face and march out the front door.

Not yet
.

Martin brought the automobile to a rolling stop in front of the brightly lit mansion of Mr. and Mrs. Victor Ratchford on Seawall Boulevard. Not too far, she noted, from where she and Hunter had had their picnic.

A kernel of fear lodged in her stomach at the thought that anyone looking out the window of the mansion might have seen her and Hunter. A Ratchford servant helped them from the vehicle and escorted them up the stairs to the entrance.

After greeting the host and hostess, they entered the ballroom, which had been tastefully decorated in a fall décor. Large displays of autumn flowers were tucked into each corner, and set on every open space. The scent, combined with women’s perfumes and men’s hair tonic, almost choked her.

There had to be over two hundred guests crowded into a room not built for a group that large. Most of Galveston’s high society, including judges, politicians, and affluent businessmen made up the guest list. All the wives were bedecked in jewels which reflected their wealth and status in the community.

Louis escorted her to a group of women, smiling and nodding as they passed friends and acquaintances. “I will come by later for a dance with the most beautiful woman here.” He bent and kissed her hand before leaving her with a smoldering look.

“Oh, my. Your husband is just so romantic.” Mrs. Stevenson sighed as Louis turned and walked away. “How lucky you are to have such a devoted man. And so handsome, too.” She nudged Emily with a smirk on her face. “I’m sure he keeps you happy in the bedroom.”

Emily had to fight to keep the bile rising at the back of her throat from decorating the stupid woman’s gown. If she revealed exactly what it was that Louis did in the bedroom, the woman would most likely scream, and then faint dead away. She was almost tempted to tell her.

She spent most of her time chatting with the ladies, none of whom were close friends because Louis didn’t allow it. One or two older men asked for a dance, which she complied with. Louis didn’t mind her dancing as long as the gentleman was at least three times her age and his belly kept them apart.

By the end of the second hour, however, her feet hurt, she was thirsty, but the room was far too crowded to fight her way to the refreshment table, and all she wanted was to go home.

From the corner of her eye she saw Louis wending his way through the crowd. He was heading in her direction, and seemed to be speaking to someone behind him. At last he edged through the remaining few people in front of her.

“My dear, I would like you to meet one of my new investors.” He turned and said to his companion, “My wife, Mrs. Emily Smith.”

Emily’s eyes grew wide, and she swallowed a giggle as she slowly extended her arm to Hunter.

He offered a noncommittal smile and took her hand. “Mrs. Smith. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Chapter 12

Hunter hoped to hell Emily didn’t faint dead away right there in front of him. When he’d managed to wrangle an invitation to the event through his Rangers connections, he’d had no way to warn her he’d be attending.

Unable to resist the opportunity to spend more time with her, he’d taken a chance that her expression or demeanor wouldn’t give their relationship away. But she quickly pulled herself together and said, “It is nice to meet you, too. What did you say your name was?”

“Henderson, ma’am. Hunter Henderson.” He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. The flush on her face receded, and she was cool and remote, exactly as he’d hoped she’d be. “Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Smith?”

“Yes, I am, Mr. Henderson.” She turned to Louis. “I am a bit thirsty and would love a glass of lemonade.”

Louis bent his head. “Of course, my love. I regret I did not come sooner.” He took her hand and kissed it, smiling warmly. Emily looked as if she wanted to kick him in the shin.

“Don’t say anything,” Hunter warned as Louis moved away. “Just smile like you would at a stranger.” She followed his glance and saw that Louis had stopped to speak with someone, then looked back at the two of them.

“Your husband is very devoted to you, Mrs. Smith.” Hunter grasped her elbow and moved her slightly to avoid being run over by a man barreling through the crowd, waving frantically at someone behind them.

She gave him a sad smile. “That was my chance to get Louis away for a moment. He is always willing to play the besotted husband in public. I knew he would not pass up this opportunity to strengthen his image.”

Noting Louis had finished his conversation and was moving toward the refreshment table, Hunter took the opportunity to study Emily. Beautiful even in her Harvey House uniform, dressed as she was tonight in a formal gown, with her hair swept away from her face, curls cascading down her back, she was stunning.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here.” She smiled at him a little too warmly for his comfort. If anyone took particular notice of Mrs. Smith and the stranger, they could be in for a difficult time.

“Can we walk, or will Louis be right back?”

“I doubt it. Now that he’s made the proper impression on you, I’m sure he’ll be much too busy to actually bring the lemonade.”

“Then let’s take a stroll around the room. In plain sight of everyone, so no talk starts.” He extended his arm and Emily took it.

Before they’d taken more than two steps, he glanced down at her, and his gut twisted. “What happened to your arm?” Plainly visible at the top of her long glove were black and blue fingerprints.

Emily tugged on the edge of the glove to cover the marks. “Nothing.”

He smiled at a couple they passed by, all the time wanting to punch his fist into Louis Smith’s face. “By the mere fact that you said
nothing
tells me how it came to be there.”

“Let it be. It looks worse than it is.”

“Do you have any idea how much I want to just grab you and run?” He tried desperately to pull himself under control. “First thing tomorrow I will visit the police and lay out my story. If they refuse to do anything, you and I will leave. Once Jeremy gets here he can take over the investigation. I will not allow this situation to continue.”

“Calm down, Hunter.” She cast anxious glances at a few people whose attention they’d attracted.

“You’re right.” He took a deep breath and attempted a smile. “I’ll still seek justice for my father, but not at the expense of your wellbeing. When you go home tonight, pack a bag with whatever you think you can’t live without.”

“What are you saying?”

“Get ready to run.”

Louis had been dangerously quiet on the ride home from the Ratchford ball. Emily knew from experience that did not bode well for her. She thought about making small talk to see what his mood was, but sometimes it was better if she remained silent.

Martin opened the door and Emily moved to step out. Louis yanked her back by her hair. “I’m going out for a little while. Be ready for me when I come home.”

She nodded and left the vehicle, her heart in her throat. It had always been bad when Louis came to her, but now that she’d felt such tender and caring attention from Hunter, the thought of Louis’s hands on her body made her stomach roil.

Hurrying to her room, she closed and locked the door,then looked frantically around. She pulled a suitcase from her closet and opened it. She was throwing things randomly into the suitcase when there was a tap at the door.

Oh God, not already.

She walked to the door on shaky legs. “Who is there?”

“Mrs. Smith. Is everything all right?”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Maria’s voice. “Yes, Maria, I’m fine. I have a headache and I am going to retire early.”

The doorknob rattled. “Please let me in, ma’am. I’ll get you settled for the night and have Cook fix warm milk for you.”

Rather than cause more questions, Emily slid the suitcase under her bed and opened the door.

“Ah, I can see you are not feeling well. Turn around so I can help you out of your gown.”

Hoping to make quick work of the entire process, Emily turned herself over to the maid for the requisite undressing, washing, night clothes, hair brushing, and finally, the warm milk. Once she was tucked into bed, with Louis still not at home, the maid left. Emily threw off the covers and dragged the suitcase back out.

She laughed at what she’d thrown into the bag. Hunter had told her to pack whatever she couldn’t live without. Slowly, she pulled out a bottle of perfume, two scarves, a packet of hairpins, one shoe, two pencils, and an invitation to afternoon tea. Apparently, she’d been a bit distracted when she’d packed.

With a clearer mind, she returned those items to their respective spots, and re-packed essential items. Feeling a bit calmer, but still on edge knowing Louis was coming to her, she returned the suitcase to the closet.

Two hours passed while she jumped at every little sound. It was odd how the noises the house made at night had never caught her notice before. She’d been lying in the darkness, hoping when Louis did come home he would think her asleep. Of course that wouldn’t necessarily stop him, but one could wish.

The grandfather clock downstairs had chimed three o’clock when she heard the front door open. Her heart began to pound and she closed her eyes, like a little girl who tried to make herself invisible.
If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.

Louis’s climb up the stairs seemed to take forever while her heart tried to escape her chest. The sound of a crash, followed by a string of foul language made her jump. He must have banged into something in the dark. She pulled the covers over her head, praying he would forget his promise and go right to bed.

The door to her bedroom slammed open. “Where the hell are you?”

He was drunk. From the sound of his voice and the stumbling he made toward the bed, very drunk. She lay very still like a rabbit hoping his prey wouldn’t see him. Cold air rushed over her as he yanked the covers off. “Ah, there she is. My beautiful, devoted wife.”

Emily cursed the moonlight streaming through the window. Its brightness almost cast the room into daylight. She stayed curled up, her back to him. Praying.

“I want to know who you spread your legs for in Guthrie.”

“No one.”

“Liar.” He swung, striking her on her shoulder. “I’ll show you what happens to women who walk out on me.” She broke into a sweat at the sound of his belt slipping from his pants. Arms crossed, her hands fisted tightly against her chest, she waited for the first blow. It came, but with very little power behind it. She held her breath. Within seconds she was crushed beneath the weight of his body sprawled on top of her.

She remained still until she heard the sounds of snoring. Tears of relief spilled from her eyes. After giving herself a few minutes to calm down, she eased out from under him. She wiped her wet cheeks and took a deep breath.

What she needed was a strong drink. She slipped into a robe and padded downstairs to the library. The sounds and shadows no longer frightened her, but eased her fears. Now grateful for the moon’s rays, she easily found the liquor bottles on the sideboard in the library. Hands still shaky, she poured a tiny bit into a glass and downed it—coughing and wheezing for a good five minutes afterward.

Early the next morning, Hunter entered the Galveston Police Station. Several officers sat at desks writing reports, a man was being questioned by another officer, and two young girls, one with a black eye, sat sulking on a long bench along the back wall, handcuffed to each other. Hunter approached the man at the first desk. “I’d like to report a crime.”

The officer, whose badge read
Officer Mallory
leaned back in his chair and tapped his lips with a pencil. “This crime happen to you?”

“No. To my father.” He glanced around at the attention he was gathering and said, “Can we go somewhere a little quieter?”

“Sure.” The officer stood and led him to the back area, passing by several unoccupied desks next to where the girls sat. One of them winked at him, and he couldn’t resist smiling. The officer opened a wooden door with a glass pane in the top area stenciled with the word
Interview Room
. He waved Hunter toward a seat at a small scarred table and closed the door. He settled into the seat across from him, then grabbed a pad and pencil off a shelf behind him and looked up. “What’s your father’s name?”

“Henry Henderson.”

“Age?”

“Deceased.”

The officer laid the pencil down and stared at him. “What sort of a crime was committed against your father?”

“Murder.”

“Murder?”

“Yes.”

“Here in Galveston?”

“No. Ellsworth, Kansas.”

Officer Mallory rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb. “Why are you reporting a crime as serious as murder in Galveston, if it was committed—according to you—in Kansas?”

“Because the man who murdered my father lives in Galveston.”

“Is that right?” The man sighed and took up his pencil once again. “When did this murder take place?”

Hunter watched him carefully, almost predicting his response. “Eighteen years ago.”

The officer closed his eyes and shook his head. “All right, mister. I know there is no statute of limitations on murder. But if the murder was committed in Kansas, you have to talk to the people there. If they determine the person you allege actually committed this murder, they will notify us and we will arrest him and see that he’s transported.”

Hunter gritted his teeth and tried to hold onto his temper. He was getting mighty tired of police treating him with this condescending attitude. He hadn’t run into a cooperative officer since Emily had first disappeared.

“This man is committing fraud against the citizens of Galveston as well. Apparently he’s been doing this for a while. If you arrest him for that, I will have time to wire the authorities in Ellsworth.”

“And you have proof of this man’s fraudulent activities here?”

“Some. I’m still working on it.” He knew no officer of the law would arrest someone for criminal activities if there was no proof, but he was desperate to get Louis behind bars and away from Emily.

Mallory leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “You a bounty hunter?”

“No. Ten years with the Texas Rangers, but I’m out now.”

“Why? For mental instability?” He smirked, making Hunter want to wipe the look off his face with his fists. But that would get him nowhere except in a jail cell.

“No.”

The officer stared at him for a full minute while Hunter tapped his foot, waiting for the next insult. He would take any number of slurs if it would protect Emily.

“I know I’m going to be sorry I asked this, but what is the name of this man who committed murder eighteen years ago in Kansas, but is now committing fraudulent business practices in Galveston?”

“Louis Smith.”

The officer pushed his chair back and glared at him. “Okay, Mr. Henderson, our interview is over.” He stood, threw the pad and pencil back on the shelf, and headed toward the door.

“Wait! How can you, an officer of the law, ignore my charges?”

Mallory turned back, fisting his hands on his hips. “I’ll tell you how. You just named one of the most well-known citizens in Galveston. He’s been doing business here for more than five years. He’s respected in the community and gives a lot of money to charity. If you were going to make these charges, you should have picked a different man to accuse.”

“I accused the man who did it,” Hunter shouted.

“And you have witnesses to this murder?”

“Yes.” He stabbed his chest with his thumb. “Me.”

“You?”

Hunter gave him a stiff nod.

The officer’s eyes widened and he looked as though he was about to burst out laughing. “And you waited eighteen years to report it? Or did the Ellsworth police chase you off like I’m about to do?”

“I was thirteen years old. I was shocked, unable to talk about it for years.” He began to pace. “I spent the last ten years in the Rangers looking for Smith.” He paused. “Not that I knew his name.”

“How are you so sure he’s the same man? Eighteen years is a long time.”

“Eighteen years ago, I sat huddled under my father’s desk when a robber came into the bank where my father was manager and demanded money. At my father’s instructions, the teller handed the money over. Then the thief turned and shot the teller and my father in cold blood. He never saw me under the desk when he looked around the room, but I saw his face clearly. It was Smith.”

Mallory shook his head. “I find your story hard to believe.” He held up his hands in surrender when Hunter opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t doubt your father was killed in a bank robbery, but a young boy witnessing a murder—that he told no one about—and then eighteen years later thinking he saw the man . . .” He shrugged.