Page 16 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 16

Wednesday, June 25, 1873

With the deepest hours of darkness still pressing in outside, Callie awakened with a start from a nightmare—Rion pacing up the steps of a gallows.

Lord, no! This can’t be happening. She tried to keep her breathing calm and steady, though the blackness outside seemed to be pushing into her soul, despite the lamp she’d left burning on her nightstand. How can I have found Rion and Andromeda, only to lose one so quickly? Please don’t take him from me—from us. Andromeda deserves to meet him too!

She quieted to listen for His answer, just as she’d seen Mrs. Ingram do throughout the day. Unlike her aged host, she heard nothing. Instead, oppressive silence pressed in. Maybe one day she’d hear God so clearly, but first, she had to survive this nightmare.

How could so much evidence point to her own brother being the fiend who’d murdered seven—perhaps eight—women?

Oh, Lord, please speak to me! I’ve watched You do it all day with Mrs. Ingram. Isn’t there something you can say to take this heaviness from me?

Mrs. Ingram received the news of Hattie’s kidnapping with as much grace, strength, and faith as one woman could possess. Oh, she’d been horrified, and she’d cried plenty throughout the day. But she’d also gathered her large Bible from the dining room, carried the thick tome to the parlor, and knelt to pray before the Good Book. Callie had never seen such fervor and faith, despite her tears. Then, at moments, she’d pause, quiet herself, and listen. After a moment, she’d grin or laugh, or even release a moan or a sob, but always, she’d answer what she must have heard with a “Yes, Father. Thank you.”

She and the other women had stayed close to her through the day, except when Mrs. Ingram had asked Callie to go hitch up Hattie’s mare to the cart and bring both home from Annie Tunstall’s. It was during that errand that she’d spoken to young Josiah and heard the description of Hattie’s abduction firsthand and gotten to look at the scene. Once again, the same boot print with the crescent-shaped notch in its heel marred the dirt all around the barn.

Rion’s boot track.

With so much evidence looming, she’d spent much of the day pondering Joe’s question. Could she remain objective? She’d already been less than truthful with him. Yes, Rion had found her while he was hunting, but after field dressing the deer, he’d taken her to the cave where he’d made his camp, saddled his big black horse, tied the deer over his other horse, and led her back into town. She could find the cave again, but she’d not shared that fact with Joe then, and she debated whether to now.

Could she turn Rion in if it meant saving Hattie’s life, but losing his?

Lord, how do I answer that?

And how could she face Andromeda if she turned Rion in to the authorities and cost her the opportunity to even see him once, much less know him?

What if he was guilty? Hadn’t that man, Garvin, called him a murderous … something-or-other? Had Rion’s life been so harsh that he’d become a monster?

Oh, Lord … what do I do?

She sat up, pulling Andromeda’s letter from the nightstand drawer, hoping it might bring some clarity.

My dearest sister, Calliope,

Yes, you’ve found the right woman! I can hardly believe it! I never imagined I would speak with either you or Orion again, and yet, you’ve found me. Your letter was an answer to more than a decade of wondering. Tell me, have you had any success in finding our brother? Oh, I’ve missed you both.

Wherever do I begin? I was adopted by Michael and Susan McGovern, which, now that I’ve written it, you said you already knew. What a job that must have been, to find our records amid so many others in the basement of the orphanage. No wonder Allan Pinkerton hired you as a detective. You always were determined to make a difference, even as a tiny girl.

The words stopped her. Had she been so determined—even before they were separated?

Yes. She’d always desired to leave her mark on the world. And this was one such opportunity. Women were being murdered and communities terrorized. As much as her heart cried to protect the family she’d fought to find, was that the mark she wanted to leave? To warn her brother and allow a potential murderer to flee—and maybe kill again? Or could she do what had to be done, no matter the cost?

Oh, Lord, help me!

The day had been filled with one dead end after another.

Groaning, Joe rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the mattress. Dead ends. Hardly the way to think of it.

He’d prayed for Hattie to live —begged God to spare her life. Since they’d not found her body, there was still hope. But with no indication of which direction the man who abducted her—likely Braddock—had gone, there were too many questions …

Like the night before, Joe had taken one direction and Downing another. They’d studied the ground around the Tunstalls’ barn, but just like at the abandoned cabin, they found nothing to indicate any unknown horses had been there. In fact, the only tracks that didn’t belong were Hattie’s—obvious by the small size and her awkward gait—and the large ones with a crescent-shaped chunk cut out of one heel.

A perfect match for the one Callie drew from Serafina’s murder.

He rose, lit his lamp, poured water in the basin, and splashed his face. Afterward, he slumped onto the foot of his bed. He’d be wise to sleep while he could. Come dawn, he and Downing would restart their search. But despite how inappropriate it might seem, he felt the urge to see if Callie was awake. If he had his guess, she was probably worrying over Hattie—and her old friend Braddock.

He should look at her sketches again. Perhaps they would shed some fresh insight on his search tomorrow. He tugged a shirt on and, leaving the room, buttoned it as he climbed the stairs on cat feet.

Thankfully, she was the only one who occupied the third floor. That made for less chance of disturbing the other boarders—although everyone in the house was probably awake. He crossed to her doorway, noting the lamplight showing under her door.

A good sign.

Joe knocked. Despite the softness of his touch, the sound echoed like thunder between mountain peaks. If she wasn’t awake before, she probably was now. Yet, nothing stirred inside.

“Kezia?”

Still no sound. Yet her lamp was burning.

Was she that soundly asleep?

“Kezia.” He knocked again.

Still no response.

Concerned, he tried the knob. The door swung open easily, and self-consciously, he peeked inside to find … a neat and tidy bed?

Lord God Almighty … He stuck his head in.

She was gone.

Please, Almighty Father—don’t let her have done something foolish.

Stepping inside, he found her satchel with her drawing supplies atop the trunk at the foot of her bed. In the corner, some of his case files occupied the small desk’s surface. He glanced around. Was her rifle gone? Scanning the room twice, his stomach knotted. Yes, gone.

She didn’t go anywhere without that gun, so she must’ve left on purpose—probably to find and warn Rion Braddock.

He turned to leave, but something caught his eye, and he paused. Crossing to the bed, he found a creased paper, lying unfolded atop the quilt. Unable to read it in the dim light, he moved closer to the lamp.

My dearest sister, Calliope,

Yes, you’ve found the right woman! I can hardly believe it! I never imagined I would speak with either you or Orion again, and yet, you’ve found me. Your letter was an answer to more than a decade of wondering. Tell me, have you had any success in finding our brother? Oh, I’ve missed you both.

Calliope? Calliope … He leafed through the missive’s other pages and found the signature from Andromeda Braddock McGovern.

His jaw went slack. “Calliope … is Callie.”

No wonder she’d acted so odd. She didn’t just know him. They were kin.