Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (11 page)

“I doubt it.”

Yet as she said the words, Sadie found herself wanting to be talked out of them. What was it about this handsome man that had her so befuddled?

She was a Pinkerton agent. A professional just doing her job. And yet she couldn’t recall having more fun sparring with a dinner guest in quite some time.

And despite the fact he’d been a grizzled and grimy stranger only hours ago, she had found somewhat of a kindred spirit in Jefferson Tucker. Perhaps it was their shared professions.

He caught her attention and held it. “I realize this may be more than a man should ask a woman he does not know, but I wonder if you would keep me company just a little longer.”

Before she could respond, he continued. “I was locked up alone in a cell for almost a year, Miss Callum. I find I’m rather enjoying the conversation and not looking forward to going back to that empty room.”

“Oh.”

There were a half dozen answers she could have made to flat out tell him no. Another half dozen that would let him down easily and still allow her to escape his company.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to continue our conversation,” she found herself saying. “As long as we do not discuss cases or whether I have a husband waiting for me at home.”

“You don’t.”

She ignored his statement. Of course a man trained as a detective would have to press his point. That did not mean she had to acknowledge it.

“So,” she said brightly, “it’s still early and the rain appears to have stopped. Where would you like to go on your first night as a free man? I’m sure we could find a theater performance or something of the sort. Would you like me to ask the desk clerk what he would recommend?”

“Actually…” He said the word slowly, almost sheepishly. “What I would really like is to see the stars. It has been a very long time.”

Sadie gave him a sideways look. “I take it you had no window in your…” She looked around the dining room to be certain they were still alone before returning her attention to Mr. Tucker. “…your previous accommodations?”

His laughter held no humor. “I did not.”

“Then it is time you renewed your acquaintance with the night sky.”

He offered her his arm and she took it. “Lead on.”

Though she was quite familiar with the Louisiana capital, her experience was more suited to political events attended with her father or, more often, social events attended with her brothers or mother. A walk beneath the stars would be a new experience for her as well.

They stepped out onto the sidewalk, where she spied her driver lounging comfortably against the carriage. “What are you doing out here, Sam?” she asked.

The look that passed between him and the former prisoner was one she could not miss. “Just enjoying the night air, ma’am,” he said when he once again met her gaze.

Sadie studied him a moment and then nodded. “All right. Do continue.”

“A little longer and then I believe I’m done for the night. I’m beginning to lose interest and it’s been a long day.”

“It has,” Mr. Tucker said. “You may want to get your rest.”

“I believe I will,” Sam said before tipping his hat to Sadie. “Good night, ma’am. Sir.”

As Mr. Tucker led Sadie down the sidewalk toward the river, she slid him a sideways look. “What was that about?”

“Hmm?” His brows rose as his face became a picture of innocence. Guilty innocence, she decided.

“That conversation was not about a man enjoying the night air. So what was it about?”

“Sure it was,” he said and then nodded toward the end of the street. “What is that up ahead? If I didn’t know for certain I was in Louisiana, I would swear we were coming upon a proper British manor house.”

“Manor house?” She chuckled. “More like a castle. However, it is the state capitol building.”

They turned the corner, and the edifice came into full view. The magnificent structure, with its twin turrets, crenelated battlements, and white façade, did indeed resemble some sort of medieval castle. With the wash of moonlight and the lamps lit, the building looked especially noble.

“My mother’s ancestral home looks very much like this.” His tone was wistful. “I miss it.”

“The home?”

He shrugged. “England. Home. All of it.” He adjusted his cuffs, all the while keeping his attention fixed on the capitol building. “Have you ever been to England, Agent Callum?”

“Yes, several times. I liked it very much.”

He looked down at her. “What did you like about it?”

“The museums, the history. London was magnificent. We went to the theater…the Alhambra in Leicester Square, I believe. Is that the one with the statue of Shakespeare out front?” At his nod, she continued. “Oh, and there was one memorable occasion. The Inventions Exposition where Sir Francis Bolton put on the most amazing—”

“Electric light show,” he said along with her. “Yes, I know. I was there.”

“Were you?” She tried to imagine the staid detective enjoying himself at such an event and failed. “Then you know it was just lovely.”

“Indeed. And yet as nice as London is, there’s something about the English countryside. Where a man can look up at the stars and actually see them at night.”

Sadie followed his gaze. “They do not appear to be as visible here,” she said as they continued on. “Perhaps down closer to the river?”

He steered her that way, walking in silence as a city trolley pulled by a team of horses plodded past. She looked over at the conveyance, its windows filled with blank-faced passengers mostly hidden in the evening shadows, and took note of every detail. Even now she could not let her guard down and just enjoy an evening stroll.

Apparently neither could Mr. Tucker, for she caught him looking in the same direction until the trolley had disappeared around the corner.

“Sorry,” he said as he went back to looking straight ahead. “A habit of mine.”

She smiled. “Mine as well.”

His nod was the only response he made until they reached the end corner. “Shall we take a look at the river? I heard the men in the barbershop talking about the flood. Apparently the water levels are going down, but the river is still well over its banks.”

“What they probably neglected to tell you is that the Mississippi has a mind of its own and tends to try to change course regularly.”

“Is that so?”

A horse cantered past as they walked on, its color so dark that only its hooves were visible until it emerged from the shadow of the buildings across the street. The rider was a man in uniform, probably a police officer. With a nod in their direction, he continued on his way.

A few minutes later the road ended in a confusion of warehouses and ramshackle buildings. Beyond them were wharves where steamboats rocked at anchor beside vessels of all sorts of sizes and levels of seaworthiness. Snippets of conversation, punctuated here and there by sounds of laughter, drifted toward them on the not-so-pleasantly-scented breeze.

Though most of the day’s work was done, there were still a few stevedores working, their crates and cartons moving silently down the docks to disappear into the vast buildings that housed the commerce brought in by the river’s vessels. On board the steamboats, lights flickered and people moved about on the decks.

They moved off the sidewalk to a path worn through the undergrowth along the river. The view was better here, much more open sky and with far less activity to distract the eye.

Jefferson Tucker stood tall beside her, his posture that of a man with an extensive military background. His hands were behind him now—parade rest was what the children of workers who staged mock-wars behind the smokehouse called the stance. And while his body did not move, his eyes seemed to be sweeping the scene unfolding before them.

Sadie took the opportunity to study him. Like his brother, this Tucker bore the sandy hair and handsome face that could easily capture a woman’s attention.

When he caught her looking, she pretended interest in the steamboat rocking at anchor just down the wharf. “I believe that’s the
Anna Belle,”
she said. “It’s a lovely vessel. One of the finest in all of Louisiana.”

“Lovely,” he echoed. “Yes, indeed.”

But when she returned her attention to him, he was not looking at the steamboat. Oh, but those eyes did gaze at her with interest.

Warmth began to climb her neck and flood her cheeks. Ridiculous. And yet there it was.

“So,” she said, her voice an octave higher than she expected. She cleared
her throat and tried again. “What do you think of our river? She is quite impressive.”

“Impressive,” he said, this time so softly that Sadie was not certain she heard.

She felt herself drawn to him. Felt an interest in spending more time in his presence. It was an odd feeling, this attraction. No, she quickly amended. There could be no attraction. She was a grown woman. A trained Pinkerton agent whose family life was more complicated every day. A daughter whose father must be placated before the next case could be tackled. And a sister who could expect one or more of her brothers to pop out of the darkness at any moment, as Brent and Cade had done this afternoon.

And yet, at that moment, her only wish was to stand there beside the water and let the lull of the quiet strength of the man beside her tug her closer.

As if he had guessed at her thoughts, Mr. Tucker moved to place a protective hand on hers. Again he looked down at her.

With his expression cast in moonlight and shadows, there was no indication of the direction of his thoughts. Owing to his profession as a detective, would his thoughts even show should she manage to see his face? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

A recollection of their kiss rose unbidden. Kisses, she amended as she allowed the slightest shiver.

“Are you cold?” His arm slid around her and gathered her close.

Hardly. Heat enflamed her face.

“Look.”

Sadie followed the direction he pointed and spied a falling star. “Oh, my. Wasn’t that something?”

“Something.” Mr. Tucker continued to gaze up at the sky. “My grandmother used to tell me that seeing a falling star meant my wish would come true.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Of course. When I was a child, anyway.”

“And now?”

He shrugged. “I am older and wiser. Not by choice.”

His grip on her waist tightened slightly. He was watching her again. Smiling.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. A second look told her it was a snake. One of those nasty cottonmouths that populated the riverbank.

She reached for the gun in her pocket and dispatched the intruder with a single bullet.

“What in the…” Mr. Tucker pulled a match from his pocket and struck it. “Good shooting. That snake was well over five feet long and headed for us.”

Shrugging, she returned her revolver to its hiding place. And then, quick as that, the moment was over and he stepped away to thrust his hands in his pockets.

“Well,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strained, “I have seen the stars and the local wildlife. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She nodded toward the direction in which they had come. “After you, Mr. Tucker.”

He led the way, and Sadie fell into step beside him. At the corner they paused long enough to allow a pair of wagons to pass before crossing the street.

In each alley and doorway, Sadie watched for Brent or Cade or one of the three others. When the train station came into view, she searched the platform and looked into every window.

“Ever the Pinkerton agent, Miss Callum?”

She met his gaze with a smile. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“And yet you are not enthralled with the occupation.”

“What gave you that idea?”

A whistle blew at the station and a plume of steam rose over the roof of the station. A moment later, the evening train pulled away and silence once again reigned.

“You gave me that idea. Something about anyone thinking of taking up detective work for a living ought to consider a different line of work.”

“On occasion I speak when I should remain silent.”

“And I tend to remain silent when I should speak.” He stopped and grasped her wrist, halting her progress up the street. “So I will remedy that right now.”

“Oh?”

“Thank you, Miss Callum. I know these clothes came from money you gave the driver. I saw you hand it to him.”

She shrugged. “I’ll note it on my expense report.”

“I doubt that,” he said, and she did not argue.

“So,” he continued as the entrance to their hotel drew near, “why is it that you remain in a profession you cannot recommend?”

“I said I could not recommend it. That hardly means…” She stopped short. “Do you have a family, Mr. Tucker? Other than your brother, I mean? A wife, fiancée, or lady friend?”

He grinned. “Family, yes. A woman who fits any of those titles you mentioned? Not at the moment.”

She tried again. “Before your unfortunate incarceration, perhaps?”