Haunting Jordan (27 page)

“At least four or five hours, from what I was told.”

“Hmm.” He frowned at that, staring into the fire for a long moment. “Well, all you can do is keep him quiet and keep constant vigil, to see whether he awakens. I’ve elevated his head—keep it that way—and stitched up the various cuts. Under no circumstances should he have any stimulants.”

“What of his ribs?”

“Yes, I was getting to that—two are broken. I’ve taped them to keep them in place so that they do not puncture his lung. You mustn’t let him shift about too much. The ribs will be quite painful for a while yet, and he won’t like the effect when he breathes. I’ve left a dram of laudanum in the room, in case he experiences too much pain, but you are only to administer it after he has regained full consciousness and appears to be completely lucid. He’s best off with only willow bark tea, if he can tolerate the pain.”

“My housekeeper knows how to prepare it.”

“Good. He also has numerous bruises in his kidney region. Should those become more tender or swell, notify me immediately.” Willoughby turned from the fire with a frown. “If Mr. Lewis had a lesser constitution, I suspect he would’ve died from the beating he took.”

“You know Frank?” Hattie asked, surprised.

Willoughby nodded. “He and I had some dealings recently. He came to me for medical supplies. Some story about a young girl—yes, name of Isobel, if I remember correctly—who had fallen from a carriage, though I doubt he told me the truth. Hard to sustain burns in a fall from a carriage,” Willoughby added wryly.

Hattie managed not to react. So Frank had been the one to treat Isobel. That was why he knew the details of what Charles had done to her.

She glanced at Willoughby and found him watching her with a shrewd expression. When she remained silent,
he sighed. “I won’t push you to tell me what you know, but it’s my duty to report this attack to Chief Greeley.”

“I’ve already taken care of it—you needn’t trouble yourself,” she lied. “I’m sure you’ve already had a long day.”

“Who do you have to nurse Mr. Lewis?”

“I will take care of that as well.”

Willoughby’s expression turned to one of shock. “Mrs. Longren, that is highly improper. I can’t allow it. I will send someone over—”

“
No
. The more people who know, the greater the likelihood Frank’s attackers will learn of his location. No one will suspect he is here.”

“But—”

“I have extensive experience treating the injured and infirm at my parents’ clinic in Boston,” she interrupted firmly. “His injuries, though severe, are ones I’ve handled in the past. And you said yourself that we must simply wait and see whether he returns to consciousness. My housekeeper and I can keep vigil.”

The physician continued to eye her with disapproval. “Charles would never have allowed this.”

“Charles is no longer here to make the decisions, Dr. Willoughby. If you care about your patient’s survival, you will speak to no one about this.”

The physician studied her, then sighed. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” Hattie stood. “If you’ll prepare your bill, I can pay you immediately.”

He pursed his lips, reaching down to pull a slip of paper from his satchel. “Charles always said you were headstrong—he was concerned that trait would land you
in trouble one day. I’m well aware of the good Frank Lewis has done on the waterfront, so I can hardly object to your willingness to take him in. But if you’ll take every precaution, I’ll sleep better with that knowledge.”

Hattie nodded. “If you’ll follow me to the library once you’ve finished your drink, I’ll pay you there.”

Once he’d left, promising to drop by the next afternoon to see how Frank was doing, Hattie returned to the attic. She sat in the chair next to the cot, one hand rubbing her temple. Frank lay, silent and unmoving, and still unnaturally pale. She lifted one of his hands and held it in her own, willing some of her strength into him.

He didn’t respond, his breathing slow and deep.

His hand still in hers, she leaned back and closed her eyes. She would keep watch over him throughout the night, then pay a visit to the police in the morning. And regardless of what she’d told Mona, she would soon deal with the men who had beaten Frank. She had no doubt that Michael Seavey or Clive Johnson had ordered the attack. She would discover which one, then find a way to deal with him.

She had no intention of allowing the perpetrators to go unpunished.

The Warning

THE next morning, Hattie opened the door of the Port Chatham Police Station, a one-story brick building located around the corner from the Green Light and identified by a rough wooden hanging sign that announced, simply, Police. She approached the front desk and asked the uniformed officer to be allowed to speak with Chief Greeley.

While she waited, she watched the passersby on the boardwalk outside the building’s plate glass windows. The streets were teeming with tradesmen and sailors going about their business, but she was too distracted to take much notice.

After a restless night, Frank’s fever was lower this morning, his sleep deeper and less disturbed. But he still hadn’t regained consciousness, which was worrisome. She’d left Sara in charge, changed into a clean dress, and hurried down to the waterfront, unwilling to be absent from his side for any length of time.

“The chief will see you now, ma’am.”

The desk sergeant escorted her through a large, open
room furnished with battered oak desks. Uniformed officers sat at several of the desks, filling out paperwork. To her right, cells constructed of iron bars running from ceiling to floor marched down the wall. A few of the cells were empty, but others housed unkempt prisoners who smelled as if they hadn’t washed in days. They tracked her passing, a feral light in their eyes. She averted her gaze, wrinkling her nose, and ignored their catcalls.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” the officer muttered.

“It’s all right, Sergeant,” Hattie assured him. “I’ve heard, and smelled, worse.”

Greeley’s office stood against the rear wall, built of whitewashed, half-height wooden walls and closed in by large windows. The design was intentional, she supposed, so that he could see at a glance what was happening in the common area. He sat behind an oak desk substantially larger than those in the other room, reading a sheaf of papers.

As they entered, he looked up, his gaze coolly assessing. “That’ll be all, Dobbs.”

“Yessir.”

“This is a surprise, Mrs. Longren.” Greeley indicated that she should take a seat in one of the rickety wooden chairs across from where he sat. “If you wished to discuss Charlotte with me, you could’ve sent a note requesting that I call on you later this afternoon.”

“You mistake the reason for my visit, Chief Greeley.” Hattie pulled off her gloves and placed them in her lap. “I come on a matter of some urgency. I wish to file a report of an assault.”

Greeley jumped to his feet. “Charlotte is all right? Someone attacked her?”

“No, no,” Hattie hastily assured him. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. The attack happened yesterday afternoon, here on the waterfront. Frank Lewis was badly beaten and left for dead.”

Greeley lowered his large frame back into the chair, his expression now wary. “And how would you know about this alleged attack, Mrs. Longren?”

She hesitated, trying to decide the best way to proceed. “I learned about it from Mona Starr. Mr. Lewis is in serious condition and remains unconscious. His physician has indicated that Frank was attacked by at least three assailants.”

“You should have had the physician file a report with us.”

She waved that aside. “I wish you to look into this matter immediately, to ascertain who might have perpetrated the crime.”

Greeley picked up a fountain pen and fiddled with it. “And what is your interest, may I ask?”

She arched a brow. “To bring his attackers to justice, of course. I agreed to report the attack to you because, as I’m sure you know, people like Mrs. Starr don’t believe the police will take them seriously.”

Greeley studied her for a moment, his expression giving away little. “Where is Frank Lewis right now?”

“Hidden where the men who tried to kill him will not find him. Mona felt it prudent to keep the location of his convalescence secret for now.”

“You can tell me his whereabouts—I am, after all, the police.”

If members of the police force knew his location, she couldn’t trust that word of it wouldn’t leak out. “I don’t see the point—Frank can’t talk to you until he awakens, and given that he has a concussion, he may not remember the attack at all.”

Greeley leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Then I see no way I can help you, Mrs. Longren. I would need access to the victim, to hear his side of the story, before I can investigate.”

“But you could ask around on the waterfront, see if you can discover any witnesses to the attack,” she insisted.

Greeley shook his head. “A waste of time and resources. I need evidence that the attack actually occurred before I can assign a man to investigate. Lewis is known to have angered a number of businessmen and shipping masters in this town. Someone could’ve simply been teaching him a well-deserved lesson.”

“This was no ‘lesson,’” Hattie snapped. “It was attempted murder. I have no doubt once you’ve seen the extent of his injuries that you’ll agree. And regardless, it’s your duty to investigate an attack against any citizen, no matter what the provocation.”

Greeley looked amused. “If I investigated every waterfront brawl, I’d need a force ten times the current size.”

“Then perhaps you should ask Mayor Payton to increase your budget! I fail to see—”

“What concerns me far more, Mrs. Longren,” Greeley
interrupted, “is your role in this affair. Precisely what is your involvement with the alleged victim? I would’ve thought that after your run-in with him the other morning you’d have done whatever necessary to avoid contact with the man.”

Hattie stared at Greeley, clenching her jaw. “Frank may have been gathering information for me at the time of the attack,” she conceded.

“Ah. What kind of information?”

“Nothing that concerns you—a business matter regarding Longren Shipping.”

Greeley sighed, pinching his nose. “Mrs. Longren. I believe I’ve already talked to you at length regarding your misguided notion that you need to be involved in the day-to-day affairs of Longren Shipping. If you are now consorting with a union representative, you may do grave harm to your business.”

“I don’t see where that’s any of your concern, Chief Greeley.”

“On the contrary. If this attack occurred as you say, then it is precisely the kind of situation I’ve been concerned about. You can’t possibly know what you are doing or the type of people you are exposing yourself and the girls to. There’s every likelihood your actions directly caused this alleged attack.”

Hattie flinched, and he nodded, obviously pleased that his supposition was correct.

“Furthermore, I find this to be yet one more reason why I believe Charlotte should be removed from your
household as soon as possible. Your willingness to associate with known criminals is placing her in personal danger, and proving to me that you are not an acceptable role model.”

She stared at him. “That’s absurd. Whatever involvement I choose to have in Longren Shipping has absolutely nothing to do with Charlotte. In fact, by coming down to the waterfront, I keep her exposure to anyone I employ at an absolute minimum.”

“Frank Lewis was seen leaving your home the other afternoon, was he not? That’s evidence enough of your casual disregard for Charlotte’s safety.”

Hattie shuddered, knowing what his reaction would be if he discovered Frank’s whereabouts. “How do you know about Frank’s business appointment with me?”

Greeley didn’t answer, instead leaning across his desk and pinning her with his cold, dark eyes. “I want an answer, Mrs. Longren,” he said softly. “Do you consent to my courtship of Charlotte?”

“Will you be investigating the attack on Frank Lewis?” she countered.

“Not at this time. As I’ve explained, I have no evidence that an attack has taken place.”

“Mona Starr can corroborate my story, as can her butler and coachman.”

“I don’t find Mona Starr’s word to be reliable. Nor should you.”

“Then it seems I shall have to investigate myself.”

“That is both foolhardy and dangerous.”

Hattie clenched her hands in her lap. “Furthermore,
given your continued refusal to act in a manner which convinces me of your good moral standing, particularly with regard to criminal activities taking place on the waterfront, I will have to say no, I won’t condone your courtship of my sister. My parents would have wanted a better suitor for her.”

Greeley stared at her, a muscle in his jaw working. “Very well.” He leaned back and stood. “My request was merely a formality—I had hoped to have your approval, but I can act without it.”

Hattie stood as well. “I will remind you that I am Charlotte’s legal guardian, Chief Greeley. You will not approach her or talk to her without my permission.”

“And I would remind you that I’m the law in this town, Mrs. Longren. Any judge will be happy to alter Charlotte’s guardianship, given the circumstances and your deteriorating reputation. I can easily argue that, given your recent activities, the death of your husband has unhinged you.”

Hattie’s spine was rigid as she marched to the door. “Do
not
call at our home, Chief Greeley. You won’t be admitted.”

“Mrs. Longren.”

She paused, her hand on the knob.

Greeley’s eyes were cold and hard. “Do not stand in my way, or I’ll break you.”

* * *

H
ATTIE
was shaking when she left the police station, though not from fear. The sheer outrage of Greeley’s position—not to mention his utter lack of concern for Frank’s well-being—had her trembling with rage.

Clearly, Greeley possessed no sense of justice, which she found to be the ultimate in hypocrisy, given that he had made his reputation by quickly solving a number of cases. Rather, his specialty appeared to be the wielding of power for his own gain, without regard to the consequences. And for the moment, she feared, his focus was on wielding that power to acquire Charlotte as his wife.