Page 19 of Written in Secret (The Art of Love and Danger)

C HAPTER 19

“A BDUCTED ? W HERE ? H OW ?” A brAHAM RAMMED a hand through his hair. Lydia had been here not two hours ago.

Lucian stood in uniform at Abraham’s door even though this section of town wasn’t his beat. “Her mother insisted on attending church service, and Keaton’s father and mother were waiting for her.”

Were all the Pelton women without sense? “Tell me all.”

After a brief report, Lucian shook his head. “We always talked about becoming detectives, but I’m not so sure I’m interested anymore.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, but that usually means manure was involved in the making of it. Are you saying you’re afraid of a little muck?”

“Nope, I just like being home with my wife. If you’re ever free again, stop by the house for a visit. Verity says she misses you.”

“Only because she wants me to marry her sister.”

Lucian shrugged. “You’re not getting any younger.”

Too bad the only woman who interested him was the one he shouldn’t consider.

Abraham thanked Lucian for the information and walked to the nearest horsecar stop. Lydia must be a hysterical mess by now. Any woman would be. In all likelihood, Dr. Pelton had given her a sedative, and she wouldn’t be awake to question. Still, Abraham would go. A new Billy Poe note might hold a crucial, time-sensitive development. It didn’t matter that his shift had ended only a few hours ago. As Lawson had warned, the case’s needs dictated his schedule. Breaks would come when there were lulls.

He took a seat on the half-empty horsecar and scrubbed his face. Climbing over the detective fence had indeed landed him in manure. An unpredictable schedule, a partner who abhorred silence, and a murderer as elusive as a snipe. Throw in this attraction to Lydia, and he was up to his neck in muck. Maybe if he was lucky, this trip would only take a few hours, and he’d be home and in bed with enough time for a full night’s sleep. Lord knew he needed it. Never before had his job stretched him so close to his limits, and this was only the beginning of the case. If his gut was right, they still had a long way to go before they apprehended Billy Poe.

Twilight shrouded Plane Manor in a haunting gray by the time he arrived. Not that the Gothic stone building needed any help in appearing menacing. Wings and bays towered three stories tall, with parapets and pinnacles giving the illusion of guards keeping vigilant watch from above. The only warmth emanating from the building came from the glow of the front window.

He sighed as he caught a glimpse of Lydia pacing behind the window in plain view. So much for her being sedated. That was probably best for his case, even if he’d have to reprimand her for not staying out of sight.

Mrs. Hawking, the Planes’ housekeeper, refused to open the door until he identified himself, then swung it open to reveal a rifle in hand. Rail-thin, dressed in black, and hair twisted into a fierce bun, the woman made the house’s outside feel welcoming in comparison. With a no-nonsense comportment and tone, she led him into the packed parlor.

Except for Lydia, the Pelton family was seated together near the door. Dr. Pelton sat next to his wife, holding her close while he scowled at some distant thought. Lydia’s younger sister lounged on the sofa and paged through a lady’s magazine.

“Maa.”

Was that a goat bleat? Abraham glanced at the floor near Lydia. Next to Miss Plane, the three-legged animal lay on a blanket and chomped on what appeared to be the remainder of a bouquet of flowers. Wasn’t that creature supposed to be dead by now? Miss Plane must have a healer’s touch, because the goat appeared well on her way to recovery.

“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”

Abraham turned at Lawson’s voice.

“Officer Atwood informed me of the situation.” Abraham’s eyes strayed to where Lydia continued her back-and-forth path in front of the window.

Instead of a face puffy from tears, a tempest raged. Her hands alternated between fists and flexes as she muttered to herself. He should have known better than to expect to find her a swooning mess. To write the stories she did, she must have a constitution stronger than steel.

Movement from the corner snagged his attention, and Marcus Monroe stepped away from the wall where he leaned.

What was he doing here? No one was supposed to know Lydia’s location.

Monroe gripped her elbow before she stepped out of reach. “Stop fretting. I’ll see to it that all will be well.”

Lydia shrugged out of his hold, and the thud of her footfalls intensified. “I’m not fretting . I’m angry.”

Lawson leaned over and whispered, “She’s been like this since I got here twenty minutes ago. I’ve tried my hand at calming her, but I think she’s just a woman who has to pace through her emotions until she collapses.”

“How long has Monroe been here?” Abraham watched Monroe continue to convince Lydia to be still.

“Longer than me. Says he followed Atwood and the Peltons from the church.”

“But I thought he’s Catholic. Why would he be at her church?”

“That is the question, is it not?” Lawson arched his brow meaningfully.

“One of many.”

When Monroe grabbed Lydia’s arm again, Abraham strode toward them. “Hello, Miss Pelton. Mr. Monroe.”

Lydia yanked away and shifted so that Abraham stood between her and Monroe. The scowl on her face eased into a small smile as she addressed Abraham. “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

“It appears that if I want to know what my enemy is up to, I need to stick closer to you.”

Her smile broadened. “‘There’s a friend who sticks closer than a brother.’”

The reference to Proverbs made him shake his head. “As admirable as that sounds, I hope I do not need to lay down my life in order to ensure your safety. After all, this is not a romance novel.”

Monroe grunted. “It sure sounds like you’re trying to make it one.”

“Not in the least. I am only here to do my job.”

Jealous skepticism flashed across his face.

Great. Just what he needed—another reason for Marcus Monroe to make his job more difficult.

“My life is neither a romance novel nor a Billy Poe novel.” Lydia shook her head, and worry lines creased around her eyes. “Except perhaps it is. I was almost abducted and murdered in a way befitting my crime.”

Instead of dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing and meekness, her lips thinned, her hands flexed, and she reclaimed her angry pacing. If Billy Poe happened to appear before her, the man would likely end up as the recipient of a floorer. The reaction shouldn’t have surprised Abraham. Most of the women in his life—Clara included—generally faced problems head-on, even if tears eventually became involved.

Lydia continued ranting. “Between Cincinnati out to kill me and Billy Poe out to woo me, I might very well be in the midst of both a romance and a mystery.” She pivoted and marched back in Abraham’s direction. “Do you know that he’s been watching me closely?” She stopped at the window and searched the streets before shaking her head and continuing on her warpath. “He knows what I’m reading. He’s seen Theresa and me caring for Tipsy. He even talked about how delicious my pork roast looked and smelled. I’d say he was in the house, but it’s only been my family, the Planes, and Mrs. Hawking here.”

Those were unsettling details indeed, but those activities could be seen from the ground-floor windows. Not that it made the situation any better.

“Even worse, he intends to prove his love through a gift only he can give.”

Now that was disturbing news. “May I see the note?”

She gestured to Lawson, who retrieved it from his pocket.

Abraham unfolded the parchment to reveal the familiar writing. Though filled with words of admiration, it was barbed with phrases like “ordinary heroes give chocolate and flowers; I give you justice.” His hints at a special gift waiting just for her meant there would be no going home once Abraham left here. He and Lawson would be chasing down the remaining potential victims to inform them of the heightened risk to their safety. Poe planned to murder again soon, and all in the name of love.

Abraham refolded the letter and slipped it into his coat’s inner pocket.

Lydia’s tirade resumed. “What kind of man believes love equates to flowers and dead bodies?”

“You do have similar views of justice.” Lawson shrugged. “And you did kill those men in your books. Isn’t the greatest form of flattery imitation?”

Lydia stumbled to a stop, her face pale. If Lawson was trying to determine if she were part of a conspiracy, her responses were evidence enough that she was not.

“Perhaps Billy Poe should read your romance novels. Then he could start re-creating the right scenarios of love.” Miss Plane’s teasing tone was decidedly out of place. Upon seeing Lydia’s horrified expression, Miss Plane’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help lighten the mood. What do you call it in your stories? Comedy relief?”

Lydia shook her head. “Comedy relief only works when it’s well-timed. Your attempt was not.”

Monroe touched Lydia’s shoulder. “She’s not wrong to lighten the mood. You need to calm yourself and leave Billy Poe to us.”

She jerked out of his grip and stumbled backward into Abraham.

He caught her against his chest. Her citrus-scented curls bunched around his nose, and the warmth of her back against him branded him in a way it shouldn’t have. She was just a woman.

Yet even as he thought it, that just a woman came back to slap him. Lydia Pelton was far from common, and holding her was as dangerous to his sensibilities as holding an adder.

He righted her and stepped away to create space.

Lydia stepped with him, keeping them unsettlingly close.

Monroe glowered at Abraham like he’d identified his newest adversary.

“Go home, Marcus,” Lydia said. “I appreciate your coming, but I don’t need your coddling. I’ll deliver the next Billy Poe novel on time, but I ask that you leave me alone until then.”

“I’m not here about your novel. I’m here for you . I’ve made clear my regard for you. Please don’t push me away because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared. I just need to sort this out in the same way I do everything.”

Miss Madelyn piped up from the couch without lowering her magazine. “You might as well leave, Mr. Monroe. Lydia will stomp and talk aloud until she reaches a satisfactory conclusion, just like she does with every story she writes. It’s downright annoying, and at this rate, she’ll be all night. Save yourself the aggravation and go home.”

That was a surprising defense, even if it did come in the backhanded fashion of sibling derision.

Lawson glanced disapprovingly at Abraham’s closeness to Lydia, but placed himself between her and Monroe. “Come, Monroe. The lady told you to leave, and I have a few questions to ask you about the church incident. Miss Plane, may I beg the use of another room?”

Miss Plane scratched the goat’s ear before rising. “My grandfather is out doing target practice in the carriage house, so you can use his office. Just don’t touch anything.”

As they passed him, Abraham bumped Lawson’s shoe and whispered, “Tail him when he leaves.”

After a frown that communicated Lawson did not appreciate being told what to do, the trio disappeared down the hall.

Lydia sighed before facing Abraham. Had they been a romantic couple, their faces were close enough to steal a kiss without giving away his intent. Not that he’d ever take something that wasn’t his or freely given, but the thought was enough to have him put a proper distance between them.

“I know I can’t ask you to leave, Papa, but Momma, Madelyn, would you please allow me some privacy to speak to Detective Hall?”

Mrs. Pelton hesitated, but after a glance at her younger daughter, who plainly tried to hide her interest behind the magazine, she acquiesced. Miss Madelyn grumbled about leaving just when things were getting good, but accompanied her mother.

Finally alone, Lydia gestured for Abraham and Dr. Pelton to sit. “There is no reason for you to stand just because I can’t be still.”

Dr. Pelton claimed the seat Mrs. Pelton had vacated, but Abraham refused. Not that he expected Lydia to swoon, but should something happen, he wanted to be close. In fact, it would be in their best interest to close the curtains. Before doing so, he surveyed the yard and street. Lit rooms from the neighboring mansions cast rectangles of light, but no streetlamps existed to push back the dark. If Poe were out there, he had plenty of shadows to hide in. Abraham tugged the curtains closed and turned toward Lydia.

All pretense of anger had vanished, leaving behind the distraught woman he’d expected to find when he arrived. The shimmering tears, quivering chin, and almost shrinking into herself were so common to his job, he could ignore them. But her eyes, the haunted brokenness that pleaded with him to make everything right, left him aching and wishing he could hold her until her torment subsided and she felt safe once more.

“I confess, I lied to Marcus.” Her voice cracked. “I’m scared. Terrified, really. What if Billy Poe is watching me right now?”

Before Abraham’s restraint broke, Dr. Pelton filled the role of comforter. He rose and encased his daughter in an embrace and silently pleaded over the top of her head for Abraham to find a quick end to this case.

If only Abraham could promise to do so. “With the curtains closed, Poe cannot see you.” He closed the door. “And now he cannot hear you.”

She gave a watery nod and allowed Dr. Pelton to lead her to the sofa. Like a frightened child, she tucked her legs beside her and leaned into her father’s hold as if Dr. Pelton alone could protect her.

Unfounded jealousy pricked Abraham. She might not view him as her protector, but it was his duty as an officer, and now her friend, to share that responsibility. She could depend upon him. He would be that companion that stuck closer than a brother.

He pulled up a chair and rested his arms on his knees as he leaned in. “Do you have any idea how Billy Poe found you?”

“No, but I have at least two suspects in mind.” Her temper sparked.

It amused him more than it should, but he was glad to see the spunk alive and well despite her tears.

“I never told Marcus where I was staying, but he arrived here only minutes after we did.”

As much as he’d like to hold Monroe responsible for Billy Poe’s actions, they had no proof that he had prior knowledge of Lydia’s location. Not that a lack of proof meant he was innocent. “Lawson said Monroe followed you, but the flowers and note preceded you. How could Monroe be responsible for them?”

Lydia’s forehead bunched, and her mind stalked off to hunt down an explanation.

Abraham worked to suppress his delight at watching her. The woman was fascinating in her approach to everything. She swung from cowering child to rampaging detective all within a few breaths. No wonder she was an author. One had to be half mad to think and behave the way she did and then commit it to paper for the world to read.

In her hunt for an answer, her finger tapped against her arm. Soon her teeth played with her bottom lip, and she nodded. A grin crept up one side of her mouth before she unleashed it fully.

“I know how he did it.” The excitement of solving a puzzle lit her whole countenance.

He couldn’t help but answer her smile with his own, even if it might give her the wrong idea about his interest in her, which was strictly professional, of course. The fact he’d just discovered a shared interest—solving puzzles—meant nothing more than their friendship might actually work.

Lydia scooted to the edge of the sofa. “The flowers and note did arrive before him, but if Marcus overheard Mr. Clemens’s offer to escort me to Theresa’s, he would have known who that was. There was a season where my edits had to be directed here while I cared for Theresa during her recovery from a near drowning. Considering how long we were at the church, he had time to act.”

That was doubtful. Abraham wasn’t in the habit of sending flowers, but on the rare occasion he had, the ordeal had been time-consuming. “Do you really believe it long enough for him to have written the note, ordered flowers, and had them delivered?”

“It’s a Sunday. The flowers weren’t from a market. They were mostly weeds found in the empty lots between here and the church. Theresa said they only discovered the note and flowers a few minutes before we arrived. Marcus could have placed them, then waited nearby until he saw the hack deliver us.”

Her explanation could fit, and if Monroe was close enough to overhear Clemens—

“Did you say Clemens was there?”

“Yes, and I suspect him as much as I do Marcus. He’s the one who stepped in when Mr. and Mrs. Keaton tried to abduct me, which means he had to be following me.” She huffed. “He even had the gall to suggest more ‘poetic’ ways to kill me. According to him, it was to buy time for the police to arrive, but there is nothing like hearing someone plan your death while you’re forced toward an alley.”

Her shudder and subsequent curling against her father had Abraham fisting his hands. Lydia might be a dime novelist with an unsettling interest in the macabre, but no one should be subjected to such conversation. Whether Poe or not, when Abraham next saw Clemens, he was going to have a few words to share about inappropriate stall tactics.

Dr. Pelton frowned. “How did he know you’re staying here?”

Even though her head remained against Dr. Pelton’s shoulder, her eyes rolled in annoyed melodrama. “He’s a reporter. He has eyes everywhere. I’d like to poke his eyes out, especially since he made a point to say he was keeping them on me in particular. I don’t care if he thinks I’m the story of the century; it’s unnerving.”

Clemens’s interest in Lydia was definitely more than the story called for, but pitiful if that was all it truly was. “Given we still have twenty years to go, he must be anticipating a pretty uneventful career.”

She chuckled at that, and the accompanying smile eased some of the fear that had taken hold of her countenance.

Dr. Pelton was far less amused. “In the morning, I’m demanding a restraining order.”

Even Dr. Pelton wouldn’t be successful at getting one of those. “You don’t have enough to prove he’s a threat and worthy of such an order, but I’ll speak to Clemens and make it clear he is to keep his distance.”

“A lot of good that will do if he’s Billy Poe.” Lydia’s whole body deflated.

Abraham grasped her hand. “You are not alone in this. Between your family, me, and Detective Lawson, you will be safe. Finding Poe is my top priority, and I won’t rest until he’s arrested and convicted.”

Lydia’s face took on a shine that mirrored Clara’s after reading a heroic rescue. That it was directed at him should have made him run from the room. Instead, it made him wish she would write him as the hero not just of her story but of her life.

Dr. Pelton coughed before sending a meaningful look toward Abraham’s and Lydia’s clasped hands.

Abraham pulled away quickly. Speaking with Lydia was a maze of obstacles and traps. If Abraham wasn’t careful, he might find himself facing a future with a former criminal as his wife.

The fact that the thought brought a smile and not a frown unsettled him all the more.