Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (18 page)

“And he has not returned?”

“According to Granny and the butler, no.”

Jefferson lowered his gaze to study the amber paperweight that bore a chip from the time he threw it at John and missed. One of the rare times he had not hit his target.

“I doubt John will give up on having a nice roof over his head so easily.” He returned his attention to Kyle. “Especially since the police officer who arrived to take the report has elected not to file charges unless John were to cause any further trouble.”

“Despite the fact that the man has plenty of charges already filed against him?”

“A fact that the officer was apparently unaware of.”

“Then he needs to become aware of this. I’ll pay the chief of police a visit tomorrow.” Kyle stared at Jefferson for a moment and then shook his head. “You will have to forgive me, but your resemblance to the thief Will Tucker is uncanny.”

“Under the circumstances I’d say that wasn’t all so remarkable.”

“No, I suppose not.” Kyle shifted positions and seemed to be studying his hands. “I know we have not discussed how long I will be staying in Mobile. However, given the fact that your brother may well return at any time…”

“You would like to remain here, at least until you are certain you’ve exhausted all possibilities of capturing him?” At Kyle’s nod, Jefferson continued. “By all means. Consider yourself a guest in my home. Or, rather, my grandmother’s home, for I’ll never consider it fully mine as long as she holds court upstairs.”

“Then I would like very much to meet your grandmother and thank her myself for her hospitality.”

“Perhaps, although if you don’t mind I would prefer that she not know the reason for your stay. I have faith she will not give away your identity to John should he slip past the both of us, but I would prefer that no one but I know what your real purpose is. When I was with the Met, I found that the policy of keeping a tight circle of informed persons worked quite well.”

“Agreed.” He paused. “I wonder how long you will remain here in Mobile. Considering you have a life and employment in England, that is.”

Jefferson’s inelegant snort of derision caused the Pinkerton agent’s eyebrows to rise.

“I’m awaiting responses to correspondence that went missing while I was in prison. As I said earlier, I am unsure of my present status with Scotland Yard and at loose ends until those questions are settled.”

“I hope they will be settled to your satisfaction,” Kyle said. “Though my greater hope is that we capture your brother and return him to prison before that happens. Purely selfish here, of course.”

Jefferson understood. As a man whose livelihood had centered on the pursuit of justice and the solution of cases presented to him, he would have no qualms feeling the same way were their roles reversed.

“So,” he said as another thought crossed his mind, “tell me about Agent Callum.”

“Sadie?” Kyle chuckled. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“That she is,” he said as he considered the fair-haired beauty he’d kissed twice. The woman who apparently knew a cuneiform from a hieroglyphic papyrus and could make even the plainest dress look like something worthy of wearing to Buckingham Palace.

Jefferson centered his thoughts and continued. “How does a woman of her quality end up a Pinkerton agent?”

“That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Kyle shrugged. “I suppose
you’d have to ask her. Although, I warn you I doubt she’ll give you a straight answer.”

“And why is that?”

“Sadie has her secrets. But then, don’t we all?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jefferson leaned back against the old leather of Judge Tucker’s favorite chair and exhaled slowly. “I suppose we do, although if we’re worth our pay as investigators, we are as good if not better at finding them out than keeping them.”

“I suppose so, but don’t even think of trying to find out whatever it is Sadie is hiding. It’ll be a waste of your time, I promise, and it might even get you smacked around by one of her brothers.” He paused. “She has four, you know? Or is it five? Anyway, they are all older than she is and fiercely protective. So is her father.”

“Might those brothers think to disturb her while in the discharge of her Pinkerton duties?” he asked carefully.

Kyle chuckled. “At least once that I witnessed myself. Denver, last year.” His chuckle dissolved into a grin. “The eldest stepped right into a surveillance operation Sadie and I were carrying out. He told her he was in town thinking of buying into a copper mine or some such nonsense. She was hopping mad.”

Brothers? That explained the two fellows who were so anxious to find Miss Callum that they were willing to break the law and disturb his privacy to accomplish the feat.

“But no husband?” he inquired and then wished he hadn’t. Sadie had answered that question. Why did he care to have her response confirmed? And yet he found that he did. Very much.

“No husband.” If Kyle suspected any motive other than curiosity, he did not let on.

“So four or five brothers and a father who wish to protect her, and yet she manages to perform her duties as a Pinkerton agent in spite of all that?”

“And very well,” he said as he stifled a yawn. “Forgive me, but the early morning has taken its toll. Could we continue this conversation over coffee in the morning?”

“Of course,” Jefferson said as he rose to usher Kyle out into the hallway and up the stairs. After leaving him at the door to his chambers, Jefferson
stopped briefly to peek in on his sleeping grandmother before heading back downstairs to the library.

Bypassing the desk, he went to the window and opened the shutter to peer out into the darkened night. Jefferson’s image taunted him from the glass, the face that so closely resembled his brother’s.

And then that face moved when Jefferson had not.

John.

Jefferson bolted from the room and out into the night, only to find himself alone in the vast front garden. A lantern might have shed light on whether tracks were there to follow, but he hadn’t thought to bring one. He came to a stop in front of the window, his back to the house as he stared out into the darkness.

Calling out to his brother was foolish for several reasons, not the least of which because the Pinkerton agent upstairs might be the one to answer. He had promised to inform Kyle of anything relating to his brother. He had not promised at what point he would offer that information.

Speaking to John first was Jefferson’s intention, and he couldn’t do that with the agent looking on. So he stood his ground and willed his brother to show himself. Practically dared the coward to move into the puddle of light left by the open window behind him.

And a coward he was, for no other sort of man would leave his own brother to rot in the Louisiana penitentiary. Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes still roaming the depths of the thicket.

Then suddenly there he was. John Tucker. Or was it?

Jefferson moved closer to the spot where he thought he spied a man standing. Only then did John step out of the shadows.

“Jeff,” he said, his tone just as congenial as if the two were greeting one another across the dinner table. “I need your help.”

“My help?”

“I realize the request may come as a surprise, but you were always the one who did the right thing.”

The truth, and yet it took all Jefferson had not to argue the point or laugh. Instead, he stood mute, his mind on deciding how to best capture John before he slipped away again.

Slowly he reached down to press his palm against the revolver at his
side. As he maneuvered to retrieve the weapon, he was careful to lean into the shadows.

“So you won’t answer? Or is your lack of answer a response on its own?”

“I have no answer because I don’t know what you’re asking of me, John.” He paused. There, the gun was now firmly in his grasp. “Or why you would think I would assist you at all, considering the fact you left me in that prison to do the time you were given.”

“You’re made of tougher stuff than I am. I couldn’t do that time. Not there.”

“You’re always hiding behind some excuse. And yet I have to wonder if any of them are true.”

John stared back at him, his expression blank. Likely he would run. The only question that remained was whether Jefferson could capture him without harming him.

“Turn yourself in so I don’t have to,” Jefferson finally said.

“Turn myself in?” He laughed. “That’s funny.”

“I won’t help you.”

His brother sobered. “Oh, you’ll help me all right. There are people who think you have betrayed them. Important people.”

John’s taunting smile made Jefferson want to take aim and relieve himself of the burden of caring for his brother at all. Still he waited, his training taking over where his anger threatened to win out.

Revenge is Thine, not mine.

“Does the name Valletta mean anything to you?” John asked.

He knew it would. Jefferson could see that much on his brother’s face. He kept silent.

“Thought so. He knows you as well.” He chuckled. “Or he thinks he does.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s a dangerous man, Jeff. Watch out for him.”

The moon momentarily went behind a canopy of clouds, rendering the gardens a deep, velvety black. Though he never saw his brother move, when the moon once again peered out, John was gone.

Jefferson followed as best he could, trailing his footsteps until he lost them in the thicket. And still he kept moving forward.

Finally, the edge of the Tucker property gave way to a narrow logging road, where pine forests were being cut away for export. By the light of the moon he could see that there were no footprints in the mud. John had not come this far. But where was he?

Jefferson backtracked to the house and did a circle around the perimeter of the big white clapboard home. Unless he had removed his shoes, footprints would have been easily detectable on the porch boards surrounding all sides of the house. With the night too cool for windows to be open, John’s ability to slip inside easily was questionable at best.

Still, he continued his search, finding no evidence of his brother’s presence in any of the outbuildings that dotted the property. It was as if John Tucker had vanished.

Which, when Jefferson thought of it, was exactly what his brother’s best talent was. No, he amended. His best talent was in finding trouble. Running from that trouble to disappear came in a close second.

Fourteen

M
ake way, all of you,” Daddy shouted above the din of Sadie’s homecoming. “I’d like to get this girl inside before suppertime if you don’t mind.”

The noisy crowd of older brothers parted, allowing Daddy to get as far as the front porch steps before Mama appeared in the doorway. “Sadie,” she said as she closed the gap between them and enveloped her only daughter in a tight embrace.

For a tiny woman, Mary Callum was strong. Strength of bone and muscle ran as deep as strength of character and mind in the New Orleans family from which Sadie’s mother came. Qualities her daughter prayed had been passed on should the time arise and a need for it come.

“Mama,” Sadie said against her mother’s soft neck. “You look beautiful.”

And she did. The ebony hair several of her brothers had inherited showed strands of silver only upon the closest of inspections, a testament to her Acadian heritage. And those big dark eyes, fringed with thick lashes, seemed to miss nothing as she inspected Sadie from hat to traveling slippers and back up to her face again.