11th Hour Rose (17 page)

Bram.
Davy and Lilly’s eyes locked. It seemed the Charleston murders were in fact linked to Jessica Potter’s murder after all.

Mr. Potter cleared his throat, taking a quick sip of lemonade. “Naturally her mother and I sought to put a stop to the, er, relationship, but Jessica wouldn’t listen, said that this Bram loved her. Right about the time I was beginning to fear she’d run away with him, she was killed.”

“Do you have any idea how she met Bram or who else may have known him?” Marcus asked.

“None.” Carl shook his head. “I suspected he was responsible for the murder from the start, but he was like a ghost. None of Jessica’s friends had ever met him. I didn’t pay close enough attention before she died… The war was imminent… I
never
imagined…”

“We understand, Mr. Potter.” Lilly moved to sit beside him, keenly understanding that the man sitting before her could have been her own father.

“Thank you, Miss Hudson. I sincerely hope we will have the opportunity to catch this monster before he can harm anyone again.”

*              *              *

Lilly moved easily about the parlor, smiling sweetly, and talking animatedly with the other men. It was enough to split Davy in two. He felt an utter ass after the way he’d treated her the other day.

Her lovely face flipped to him, a slight smile tugging the corners of her lips. Those iridescent blue eyes rested gently on him, filled with empathy and compassion. Not for the first time, he acutely sensed she understood him better than he knew himself. Davy gulped. By damn that woman had a big heart. She seemed to have no concern for herself. Mere days after a life threatening attack, she sat in the parlor relaying aspects of it to perfect strangers, and welcoming them into her home with open arms.

Was he a fool to toss her away?

Every fiber of his being screamed to take her in his arms and make her his own for eternity, and yet the deep seated fear of losing her paralyzed him.

The interview ended and Davy could not escape her presence fast enough. He needed to think, but he couldn’t do so when she was near.

Marcus approached him. “I’ll take Carl and Jason to the hotel, and then we’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Marshal.”

David nodded curtly and clasped each man’s outstretched hand as they ambled through the door. He followed, holding his breath as he jogged down the steps.

“Davy?” Lilly’s voice pulled him back from the walk.

Involuntarily he stiffened. He knew better than to turn and look at her, knew that everything about her from the sparkle in her eyes to the blush of her cheeks was nothing more than another twist on the vice around his heart. But when it came down to it he wasn’t a man strong enough not to look. He glanced back, concern instantly eclipsing any selfish need to escape her presence. “Lilly, what is it?”

She stood on the porch, holding a sheet of paper in trembling hands. The color drained from her face. “Wh-where did this come from?”

He ran back up the steps, snatching the paper from her hands.

              I haven’t seen you in the blue dress yet.

                            —Forever your patient admirer,

                                          Bram

Pure red tinged Davy’s vision. That murdering bastard had been at her front door. “When did this come?”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t know. I just found it lying on the porch. I’ve been inside all day. It could have come at any time.”

“When did your father leave?”

“Early this morning.”

His attention shifted to the uniformed guard. “Has the guard left at all today?”

“Not that I know of.”

Davy shot down the walk, shoving the handwritten page into the Yankee’s chest. “Did you see this?”

The young man gulped nervously, gaze flicking from the paper to Davy. “Uh, no, sir.”

“No? How could you not have seen a man walk up to the Hudson’s door and deposit a note?”

“There have been all kind of visitors, Marshal. Women bringing food and the preacher for starters.”

“Have you checked any of the guests? For the love of Christ, man, the Charleston serial killer walked right through that gate on your watch and you didn’t even notice.”

“Marshal Langston, I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t see anyone leave that note.”

“Get the hell out of here. You’re relieved of this duty.”

The guard turned pleadingly to Lilly standing on the porch. “Please, Marshal, give me another chance. If Major Bradley finds out I failed anoth—”

“The fact you’re a piss poor soldier is not my problem.” Davy would have words with Major Bradley later. The commander had scaled back Lilly’s protection detail the day before and look what had happened.

The young man hesitated again. “Deputy Whitfield told me not to move before he got back on account of someone needs to guard Miss Lilly.”

“When was Whitfield here?”

“Last night and early this morning,” the soldier replied.

Davy divested the information, not entirely certain why it struck a nerve. Perhaps because Lilly’s initial attack had happened on Whitfield’s watch. “I will guard Miss Lilly.” David’s glare turned lethal. “Leave, now.”

*              *              *

Davy stormed back up the walk with all the wrath of an avenging angel. Lilly’s heart warmed and threatened to melt. His dark, tortured expression fixed on her, raw emotion brimmed in his gaze, and in that second the world fell away. For a moment it didn’t matter that they couldn’t be together or that he’d rejected her. All that mattered was that he loved her and she him. Whatever came next he would protect her now. Without a word he stepped through the door and slid his strong arms around her, pulling her against his chest.

Lilly dissolved into him succumbing to the fears she’d sought so hard to keep at bay. She wound her arms about his waist and buried her face against his firm shoulder. “How did he get here, Davy?”

“I don’t know, love. One of your visitors must have left that note.”

Lilly shuddered, growing cold. Someone close to her had dropped the letter on her porch. Someone she knew intended to kill her. “I cannot imagine any of them wishing me harm.”

“Just the same, we’ll make a list of everyone who’s come to see you. I will question them personally.” Gently he took her face in his hands, serious gaze boring into her eyes. “Know this, Lilly, I will not let anyone harm you.”

Brisk wind whipped across the porch, but Lilly scarcely noticed. The physical contact of their eyes left her breathless. Indecision skimmed Davy’s handsome face, his internal war dancing in his eyes.

His hands trailed down from her face and along her throat until they linked around her once more. “Am I a fool, Lilly?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

A wry smile quirked his lips. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.”

“You mean withdrawing your marriage proposal?”

Davy cringed. “Not my best moment, but, yes, that is what I’m referring to.”

Lilly waited for him to continue. When he did not, she cocked her head and backed out of his embrace, hugging her arms around herself. “What is it you want, Davy? I hold no ill will against you, and I do not wish to discuss our conversation on the swing again.”

Expression tormented he hefted broad shoulders and raised his palms in a gesture of defeat. “I want you, Lilly. “

She froze, hardly daring to hope he’d reconsidered his decision to leave her behind when he moved west.

“Christ, Lil, I dream about you every night and you haunt my every waking moment. I love you.” He moved in on her with slow measured steps. “All this time I’ve been afraid of losing you. After my wife died I wanted nothing more than to follow her to the grave. I never wanted to feel that hollow again.” He drew a ragged breath and looked out over the porch. “The reality is, if something happens to you, I will be wrecked whether you’re mine or not.”

Lilly’s breath hitched. She longed to throw herself into his arms and vow never to leave.

Davy gulped, reaching out and taking both her hands in his. “Lilly, I realize that I must appear the world’s most fickle ass, but would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Lilly quirked a brow. “And will your offer stand tomorrow?”

Davy grunted, chagrined. “Yes. I stand before you completely sober and humbled by life’s mistakes.”

Lilly smiled, heart swelling until she believed it would boil over with love. “In that case…” She sidled closer, leaning up to brush her lips over his in an affectionate kiss. “I would love to marry you.”

Davy grinned, snaking both arms around her and lifting her clear off the ground as he spun them in an ecstatic circle.

Lilly laughed aloud, twisting her arms about his shoulders as he touched her feet back to the porch. “I love you,” she whispered, gaze dancing over his face. All barriers and anger evaporated as he dipped his head, taking her mouth in a heated exchange for any passersby to see. Lilly didn’t care. In that moment nothing mattered save for the two of them wound in each other’s arms. The heat of his body, the clean scent of his skin, and the bristle of his whiskers against her cheek. His very essence surrounded her. They’d passed into a secluded realm all their own.

“I hope there is an announcement in the near future.”

Lilly startled, her father’s gruff voice jerking her out of the passionate haze. “Oh, Papa, yes.” She stepped away from David, cheeks blazing hot. “Marshal Langston—er, um, Davy, has asked me to marry him.”

“About damn time,” George said, striding purposefully up the walk. “But congratulations will have to wait. We have a problem.”

Davy glanced down at Lilly, brow furrowed, and a bit of her joy diminished. She knew he was thinking as she, their happiness would not be secured until the killer was caught.

“Deputy Whitfield appears to have gone missing.”

11
^th
Hour Rose

Fifteen

“So you finally wore her down,” George chided amiably as they strode side by side to the small apartment Deputy Whitfield rented.

“Something like that.” Davy hoped the sheriff wouldn’t push the subject. He hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss any specifics with Lilly yet—such as where they would live, Charleston or move west—and he did not wish to speak out of turn.

Dusk began to settle, darkening the sky and bringing a chill to the autumn air. Not wishing for Lilly to be alone, he’d attempted to leave her with her cousin, Lavinia Ross, but Mrs. Ross had not been at home. Eventually Davy insisted she stay with Craig and Marissa, at least for the day. Lilly was to be family after all. After posting an armed deputy and two Yankee soldiers as guards, Davy had reluctantly left her side to discover where the hell Whitfield was. The incompetent deputy was becoming more trouble than he was worth.

Joe Winston met them outside the old brick building. “Evenin’.” He rocked back on his heels, one thumb looped through the top of his trousers.

“Joe.” Davy nodded to the other man. “What makes you think Whitfield is missing?”

“I haven’t seen Jesse since last night. We’ve been rotating through different shifts patrolling the city, watching Lilly, and monitoring Marcus Brady. Last night he watched Lilly, but he never showed this afternoon for his turn to follow Brady.” Joe shook his head. “This doesn’t feel right. I’d stake my badge that something happened to him.”

“One of the Yankee guards spoke with him this morning outside the Hudson house. We’ll have to see if anyone has seen him since.” Davy adjusted his hat, deep in thought. Could Whitfield be the one who’d dropped the note by Lilly’s door? He’d certainly had access and no one would have suspected. The thought chilled Davy’s blood. “Let’s go inside.” 

The door proved to be unlocked and Davy stepped into Jesse’s small apartment, sweeping a shrewd gaze across the sparse interior. A table with one chair sat near the center of the room, an old lamp rested on a stool by a small, sheetless cot, and only a few scattered personal belongings littered the room. The other men followed him in.

“Whitfield,” Davy called. “Are you home?” He glanced into the small second room—which really was more of a closet—and returned to the main room. A leather bound volume propped on a shelf caught his eye. The book appeared out of place and very unlike the plain spoken Jesse Whitfield. Davy rather doubted Whitfield even knew how to read. He quickly slipped the volume off the shelf and flipped it open.

The first page held a yellowed newspaper clipping.

MAYOR’S DAUGHTER MURDERED

January 25, 1861

Tragically the young daughter of New York City Mayor, Carl Potter, was found murdered yesterday.

Davy nearly dropped the book. The article detailed seventeen-year-old Jessica Potter’s death.

“George! Joe,” he called without looking up. “You need to see this.”

Flipping to the second page, he swiftly read another aged clipping concerning Jessica Potter. A renewed sense of horror consumed his mind as he thumbed through the pages and discovered more articles about other women.

“What have you found?”

Davy passed the volume to George, every hair on the back of his neck standing on end. “You’ll have to see this to believe it.”

“Let’s see here.” The sheriff pulled a pair of reading glasses from his vest pocket and flipped to the first page of the book. The color washed from his ever steady face. “Jesus,” he muttered, handing the macabre journal to the deputy.”

Winston glanced from Davy to the sheriff with a wary expression. He leafed through the first few pages of the volume, giving his head a wry shake. “No. This can’t be Jesse’s. I don’t believe for a second that boy is a killer.”

George shrugged. “I understand where you’re coming from, Joe. Truly I do. None of us would have expected him to be smart enough for something like this, but the evidence is here.”

Davy paced across the room, deep in thought, half listening to the other men banter. Whitfield being the killer certainly explained a few things. Lilly’s attack after leaving the jail, it would have been easy for Whitfield to follow her. And then there was the letter she’d found earlier that day. However, he couldn’t quite reconcile Whitfield with the cold calculation of a serial killer. Davy shifted his attention back to the other men’s conversation.