Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (13 page)

Nor did her brothers, now that she thought of it. Sadie glanced around to be certain none of them was in sight. Brent and Cade had left awfully fast to suit her investigator’s instinct. Unless Mr. Tucker’s response was sufficient to make them believe she was not around, they would soon return.

He nodded toward the bag in her lap. “What about your next case? Isn’t that your responsibility too?”

He’d asked Miss Callum a question she obviously did not wish to answer. No matter, for Jefferson knew the correct response. The London Metropolitan Police had required the same commitment to duty from him.

He had ended up paying the price for veering off course from his purpose for being in the States. Though he was tempted to dwell on the choice to honor his mother’s request to visit John, nothing would change the fact he had made his choice and suffered the cost.

Never again would he be lured away from his duties. If he still had duties, that is, for as yet he had received nothing in response to letters sent to his superiors.

Or, if responses had been sent, they had not been delivered to his cell.

Two more bites taken as his companion sat in stony silence were all he could manage. “All right, Agent Callum,” he said as he cast his napkin aside and took a quick sip of coffee. “Shall we?”

She rose without comment, leaving a trace of the lavender-and-lemon scent of her perfume in her wake. She paused only long enough to stop at the front desk to check for any further messages. Finding there were none, she straightened her back and marched outside, leaving him to catch up.

Once at the train station, Miss Callum made short work of arranging
the changes to her ticket and then escorting him to the train. “After you, Mr. Tucker,” she said in that businesslike tone of hers.

“You know, Miss Callum, I see a potential problem that you and I should discuss before we get on this train.” He nodded to a more private area of the station. “Might I trouble you to come with me for a minute?”

She pursed her pretty pink lips and then nodded. “If you’ll be brief.”

“After you,” he said as he led her away from the train and the prying eyes of the conductor. After he found a quiet corner, he said, “I wonder if you considered the undercover aspect of our mission.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“If we are to pass our time on this trip unnoticed, then perhaps you should consider that a woman looking for all the world as though she is protecting a man is going to draw unwanted attention.” He paused just long enough to let that statement soak in. “It may even cause people to wonder.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I assure you, Mr. Tucker, I am not concerned.”

“But I am. I propose the best course of action is to decide what our cover story is and see that we keep to acting out those roles until we arrive in Mobile. At least, that’s what we would do at the London Metropolitan Police. Perhaps you’ve not gone undercover before.”

“Actually, that is my forte.”

Of course it was. He smiled. Indeed, he would find a way to convince this woman to join him in his investigation. Eventually.

She let out a long breath. “All right, then. We are the Jeffersons traveling home to Mobile.”

“The Jeffersons. Easy to remember and simple enough not to draw attention. All right.” He nodded toward the train. “After you, Mrs. Jefferson. And remember, when all else fails, you can kiss me.”

She met his gaze, barely blinking. “No, you misunderstand,” she said sweetly. “I am Miss Jefferson, your sister. And do not expect that kiss.”

Leaving that declaration in her wake, Sadie marched toward the train. Even when he expected she would glance back, she did not.

Brother and sister? He took in her elegant figure and pretty eyes and couldn’t imagine her as any sort of relation to himself. And yet she did have the coloring and fair hair to fool all but the most discerning.

“I didn’t expect the last one,” he called to her retreating back.

She ignored him.

The train whistle sounded, propelling him into motion. Jefferson caught up to Miss Callum just as the conductor called, “All aboard!”

“After you, sis,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

She shook her head, but not before he thought he spied a fleeting grin. Any sign of humor was gone by the time they reached the passenger car.

Once they were seated, their tickets punched by the conductor, Jefferson stretched out his legs as best he could, given the confined space, and settled in. A few minutes later the whistle sounded, and the train pulled away from the station in a cloud of steam and smoke.

Miss Callum appeared to have no interest in the passing scenery, busy as she was making notes in a journal she had pulled from her bag. Watching her was tempting, and yet her looks in his direction prevented Jefferson from studying her as he wished. Thus, he feigned exhaustion and closed his eyes. He’d almost fallen asleep to the rocking rhythm of the rails when his companion called his name.

He opened one eye just enough to find her digging in that battered valise of hers. “Here they are,” she said as she retrieved a stack of folded papers tied with a ribbon and then thrust them in his direction.

“What’s this?”

He sat up and took note of the contents of the stack. Letters.

“There was an issue in getting your mail delivered.” She pursed her lips. “Another situation the judge was keen to handle with some expediency. I’m terribly sorry I forgot to give them to you until now.”

Loosening the ribbon, he let it fall into his lap. The first letter was dated several months ago and postmarked London. Several others bore the same postmark but with earlier dates.

All were opened, their contents obviously read by someone. And though the address on the letterhead was the same, apparently the London Metropolitan Police were now being called by another name.

“Scotland Yard,” he said softly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. Just noting a name change.”

Jefferson returned his attention to the packet of correspondence. Fresh anger simmered as he shuffled the letters to put them in order of their posted dates, the oldest one first.

If he had not received the letters that came in, could he then assume that those to whom he had written had not received any correspondence from him, either?

There was only one way to find out. Only one way to discover not only what he had missed, but whether he still held a position with the newly named Scotland Yard.

He gave Miss Callum a sideways look. “Would you have any writing paper in that valise of yours?”

Ten

S
adie found paper and pencil for Mr. Tucker and then returned her focus to the trees and farmlands passing by outside the window. While the tracks followed the river, thick underbrush and trees obscured the muddy water in many places. Here and there she saw fishing boats and even the occasional steamboat.

Mostly, she allowed the scene to blur as her thoughts concentrated on the days ahead. Uncle Penn would be waiting in New Orleans to fetch her home. Or perhaps Daddy would come himself or send one of the boys. In any case, she might have been sleeping in her own bed tonight had duty not required otherwise.

Mr. Tucker was scratching out another letter beside her, his masculine scrawl unreadable at this distance. His expression told her these were not correspondences that pleased him to write. Or perhaps such was his concentration that his handsome face was pinched into a most decidedly angry countenance.

He caught her looking at him and ceased his writing. To look away would mean she had been gazing with some intention to read his missives, which she absolutely had not. She had been studying him, measuring him against her recollections of his criminal brother.

She offered a smile but nothing further. Nor did she move her attention from his face.

“I suppose you’re wondering what has me riled up,” he said as he set the pencil aside and shook his right hand as if it pained him. “Beyond your kiss.”

“Not particularly,” was her truthful answer. She forced her thoughts away from the kiss he appeared insistent on teasing her about. “I fear I’m caught up in my own thoughts. I apologize for not being an attentive companion.”

If her response surprised him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave her a curt nod and went back to his work. By the time the announcement was made that their arrival at the next station was expected shortly, he had several letters folded and addressed for mailing.

“Thank you,” he told her as he returned the pencil and few sheets of paper that remained.

“I take it you were glad to receive these letters,” she said as she stuffed the blank pages back into her valise. “Or perhaps not so glad. Your expression as you were writing seemed as if you were irritated.”

“Irritated,” Mr. Tucker echoed. “Yes, I’d agree with that. I thought some matters were being ignored. Now I see that was not the case.”

Outside, the landscape slid past at a much slower rate now, the lush green of the springtime countryside giving way to the city and its buildings.

“After reading your letters, have you made any decisions about what comes next for you?”

He looked down at the correspondence in his hand and then up at her. “Not yet.”

A cryptic answer, and yet she was not inclined to pry. Not when this Tucker was not the intended subject of the ongoing investigation.

“I suppose you’ll figure something out,” she said when she realized he was still watching her.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. “I wonder if I might ask you a question, Miss Callum.” At her nod, he continued. “What makes a woman like you choose a career with the Pinkertons?”

Several responses occurred, but none she wished to share. One did not casually mention the fact that joining an organization that, at its heart, allowed a person to pretend to be someone else was a benefit. Nor did it seem appropriate to mention the reason she wished to hide.

“I think my best answer is that the career chose me,” she offered. “What about you?”

“That is not an answer at all,” he said as he settled back against the worn
leather seat and looked past her, presumably to the scenery passing outside the window.

“Nor do you seem to be forthcoming, Mr. Tucker. Perhaps those of us who are in a line of work that requires secrets to be kept have a few of our own as well.”

“Perhaps so.” He gave her a direct look. “If this career hadn’t chosen you, what would you be doing?”