Crescent City Courtship (19 page)

Her throat was so constricted with fear she couldn’t have screamed if she’d wanted to. Shuddering like a boat in a hurricane, she hugged herself. Her worst nightmare had just caught up with her.

J
ohn ran all the way from his father’s office and found the Lanieres’ house lit from top to bottom. He pelted up the front steps and pounded on the door.

Winona yanked it open. “John! What you doing at the front door?”

“I’m in a hurry. Where’s Abigail?” He peered over Winona’s shoulder. He could hear the sounds of the children playing somewhere upstairs. It was nearly nine o’clock. He’d have thought they would already be abed.

Winona stepped back, eyes wide. “You haven’t see her? Doc Laniere hoped—”

“No—she said she was coming here after her interview with the faculty. I wanted to know what happened.”

Winona bit her lip, then pulled him into the foyer. “Come in. Miss Camilla will want to talk to you.”

“Why?” He didn’t want to talk to Camilla Laniere. He wanted to talk to Abigail. He wanted to tell her she was right about his father. That shipping manifest on his father’s desk had contained more than cotton and tea and silk.

Winona just shook her head. “I’ve got to help with the
children. They’re wild and it’s time to get ’em in bed.” She gestured down the central breezeway toward the back of the house. “Wait here. I’ll go get her.” She turned and darted upstairs.

John shifted from one foot to the other, turning his hat in his hands, wondering what was going on. He could hear Camilla’s low, husky voice underneath a child crying and Winona shushing somebody. He wondered what had happened to Prof.

And where was Abigail?

It seemed like an eternity, although it was probably only two or three minutes, before Camilla hurried down the stairs. “John!” She grabbed his hand. “Are you sure you haven’t seen Abigail?”

“No. Where do you suppose she is? When’s the last time you saw her?” His stomach started to knot.

“I haven’t seen her since she left the house this morning.” Camilla went to the window beside the front door and twitched aside the curtain. “It’s been dark for an hour. I don’t like her walking by herself this late, I told her—” She wheeled to face John, her gentle face tight with worry. “Gabriel went back to the hospital to see if someone there knows where she went.”

“But—wasn’t he with her? There was a faculty meeting. They were to sanction the student vote, provide her tickets—”

Camilla was shaking her head. “Gabriel was going to bring her back home, but she wanted to talk to someone first, said she’d walk to the hospital, then take the street car home. John, when did you see her last?”

“Just before the faculty meeting. I picked her up from the hospital and…and…” He swallowed, thinking about
their delirious dance down the hall to the supply closet, where he’d kissed her. “And then took her to the college. I’ve been at my father’s shipping office.” He and Camilla stared at one another in mutual dismay. “I’m going to the hospital. Prof may not know where to look.”

“If she’s there, he’ll find her, John. Be patient and let’s see if—”

The door opened. Professor Laniere came in, sweeping off his hat. He stopped abruptly when his startled gaze met John’s. He looked at his wife. “Has she returned?”

Camilla’s face crumpled. “No. Oh, Gabriel, John hasn’t seen her either!”

John crushed his hat between his hands. “Prof, we’ve got to find her. Do you suppose she went back to the District? She’s awfully fond of those orphans.”

Dr. Laniere frowned. “I suppose we could look there. What about her friend Tess? Would she have gone there?”

“That’s possible.” Relief lifted the weight off John’s chest. “I’ve been there—when I delivered the baby. It’s beside the saloon on—Look, Prof, let’s split up to make this faster. You go to the orphanage and I’ll try Tess. We’ll meet back here when one of us finds her.”

The professor nodded. “That’s a logical plan.” He addressed his wife. “Camilla, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here with Winona and the children. But Willie’s here if you need anything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He leaned down to kiss her briefly, then gripped John’s shoulder. “Be careful, son.”

John nodded. A toxic combination of fear and anger fought for control of his gut. Abigail Neal had no business endangering herself and worrying all the people who cared
about her. When he found her he was going to shake her—right after he kissed her senseless.

Sitting on a straw pallet in a warehouse storeroom, tied hand and foot with her back against a wall, Abigail stared at the Toad. He sat in a stout wooden chair cocked back against the wall, picking his teeth with his knife.

She hadn’t seen many physically uglier men, but it was not his squashed-in face or the thin scar that ran from his right eyebrow across his cheek to his jaw that repelled her. It was the knowledge that he had contributed to her mother’s death and her father’s abandonment.

Then she reminded herself that Phillip Braddock was behind this despicable man. John’s father. Impossible to reconcile. If his behavior earlier that day was any indicator, John loved her. How could he not know what his father had done? Dealing in thousands of dollars worth of illegal narcotics was one thing, but trading little innocent girls into prostitution…. Her mind recoiled.

And why had it taken her eight months to take action? Perhaps, at first she had been too numbed, too traumatized, to do more than change her name and bury herself in the District—until Tess’s crisis jolted her to life again.

Now it appeared her fears had been justified. Phillip Braddock had finally connected her to Abigail Nieland. She’d waited too long to take the notes in her mother’s journal about Crescent City Enterprises, not to mention her own experiences, to Dr. Laniere. She couldn’t imagine why the Toad hadn’t already killed her. Perhaps he thought she’d already talked. Perhaps they wanted to know what she’d told the authorities before they got rid of her.

She swallowed the nasty taste of fear that coated her
tongue and froze her throat. She’d cut open a dead body and examined its inward parts.
Through Christ who strengthens you, you can do all things.

The fear did not instantly go away, but remembering what God had already brought her through and remembering the lives she had touched, whose lives had touched hers, gave her courage. She forced herself to look at her captor, who sat flipping and playing with the knife. What had caused that awful scar? The eye that it crossed was white and dead.

Perhaps sensing her regard, the Toad grunted. “He’ll be here soon.” His accent was Cajun, the timbre deep and thick.

“Who?”

He didn’t bother to answer the question, just flipped the knife again, a thick, brutal blade without shine. The steel haft came down in his palm. “You been here before.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. Courregé say so.” The Toad suddenly smiled. “He be very dead now.”

Abigail had no idea who Courregé was, but the name made her think of courage. She looked away from the Toad’s dark, smiling face.
He
was coming. Did that mean John’s father? What would he do to her? Involuntarily her eyes closed. Her imagination, fueled by a week in a Shanghai brothel and eight months in the District, took her places she didn’t want to revisit.
Oh, God. Are You with me now? You must be.

At the sharp creak of hinges Abigail opened her eyes. The door slid open to reveal a well-dressed gentleman in a dark green overcoat and elegant hat which made him seem taller. John had towered over his father at Lisette’s party. Now she could hardly believe she’d stood in the
same room with Phillip Braddock, knowing the evil dormant under that polished exterior. She’d been completely brazen to breach the wall around John’s privileged world.

Having never seen her himself, Braddock hadn’t known who she was then. He’d stared right at her, contemptuous of her poverty and the lack of gentility that led her to seek an equal place in a man’s world.

She should have screamed his corruption to the rooftops, but fear had strangled her. As it did now.

He spoke first to the Toad. “Well done, Crapaud. You’ve taken care of the sailor’s body?”

“Aye.” The front legs of the chair crashed to the floor and the Toad bent to slide the knife into a scabbard on his boot.

“Then you may go. But hold,” Braddock added as Crapaud lurched to his feet. “What about the woman from the sail loft? Does she know what her friend knows?”

Crapaud shrugged his massive shoulders as he glanced at Abigail. “Mebbe. Don’t know what our girl told her.”

Braddock turned to Abigail, walked toward her with his hands behind his back. “So, Miss Nieland. What exactly
have
you said to your former roommate?”

All the blood seemed to leech from Abigail’s head, and a strange buzzing infected her ears. Tess was in danger because she’d told her too much. She shook her head, unable to speak past the sudden thickness of her tongue.

“Now why do I not believe you?” Braddock sighed. “Women. Always lying to manipulate us poor fellows. Fabricating that story about your mother. Did you spin the same web for my son?”

“Of c-course not,” Abigail managed to stammer. “I would never—it was the only way I could think of to set out of China.”

Braddock sat down, crossing his legs as if he were in someone’s parlor, rather than a warehouse stuffed with bales of cotton. He addressed Crapaud over his shoulder. “Perhaps you should take care of the Montgomery woman, just to be safe. Miss Nieland seems to have trouble remembering what she said to whom.”

The four-block square area just north of the hospital and medical college, generally referred to as the District, had been one of John’s favored haunts since he was old enough to slip out of the house without getting caught. But with his stomach in a knot over Abigail’s disappearance, carousing was the last thing on his mind.

It took him fifteen minutes to run the short distance to Tess’s apartment. He arrived out of breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He banged on the rickety door, hardly aware of the blazing lights and jangling music emanating from the saloon next door.
Dear God, please let her be here. Please let her be safe.
A desperate, perhaps childish prayer. But he meant it with all his heart.

He’d set his shoulder against the door to force it, when it opened suddenly, revealing Tess’s irritated face. Staggering, John righted himself. “Is Abigail here?’

Her expression shifted to surprise. “Dr. Braddock? What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m looking for Abigail.”

“She isn’t—” His dismay must have registered. She looked around, then yanked him inside the tiny entryway. “What’s the matter?”

He just stared at her. He’d been so sure he would find Abigail here. “We can’t find her. I was with her around six, left her at the college. She never went home. Dr. Laniere’s
gone to look there and the orphanage. I thought she might have come here to tell you—”

“It’s that man! He’s found her.”

John took Tess by the shoulders. “What man? If you know where she is—”

She jerked away from him. “
You
should know. He works for your father.”

“
Who?
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Some man she called ‘the Toad.’” Tess wrung her hands. “I should have convinced her to go to Dr. Laniere immediately.” Tears began to pour down her cheeks.

John was even more bewildered than ever. “I don’t know of anyone my father employs called ‘the Toad.’ And why would he be looking for her? Is she in danger?”

Tess backed away from him. “I don’t trust you. I shouldn’t have said anything. Get out of here.”

John wanted to shake her, but instead plowed his hands into his hair. He forced his voice to remain steady. “Listen to me. I
love
Abigail. I’m going to ask her to marry me. But I’ve known all along there was something about her past she wasn’t telling me. If you know something about it, perhaps between the two of us we can find her.”

“You’re not listening to
me!
Your father has something to do with her disappearance, I know it. She was afraid of him. Even if I knew anything, I wouldn’t tell you—”

“Tess!” he roared, frustrated beyond control. “I saved your life! I broke with my father this very day. I’ve known for some time his business transactions aren’t always aboveboard, but as of today I’m willing to do something about it. And if he’s behind Abigail’s troubles, I swear to you I’ll make him pay.” He lowered his voice, aware that he sounded like a madman. “Please, Tess.” He
reached for her hands, gripped them. “Please, if you know where she is….”

She stared up at him, clearly torn between belief and fear. “All right,” she said at last, returning the pressure of his hands. “All right, I’ve got to trust somebody. But I think we’re going to need more than just me and you. Take me to Dr. Laniere and I’ll tell you Abigail’s story on the way. Maybe you’ll pick up on something that will shed some light on what happened to her.”

Relief weakened John’s knees. “Good. Get your cloak, it’s cold outside.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have one.”

John shrugged out of his overcoat and dropped it around Tess’s slender shoulders. “Come on, then. It’s a long walk.”