Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (7 page)

“If you mean is having a Pinkerton agent assigned to you part of the agreement with the judge, it is not.” She paused to toy with the edge of the blanket, resisting the urge to lift it to her nose. “However, our agency has a strong interest in seeing that your brother is captured and returned to jail—”

“As do I.”

“Yes, I can imagine you would.”

“No, Miss Callum. I do not think you can imagine.”

His words held a quiet yet steely tone. He was correct. She could not imagine.

“And so the Pinkertons intend to use me to find my brother?” Mr. Tucker shrugged. “Best of luck with that. I doubt John will wish to keep company with me any time soon.”

“John?”

“Yes, my brother.” His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Oh, I see. You don’t know his full name, do you? I thought the Pinkertons knew everything.”

The statement grated on her already fraying nerves. “There is no need to mock me, sir.”

“You are correct. There is not. Do forgive me.”

Whether he intended sincerity or sarcasm, Sadie could not tell. She elected to believe it was the latter.

“Your brother is John Tucker, not William Tucker?”

Her traveling companion shifted positions, resting his hand in his lap. The soiled napkin remained in his palm.

“He is both, as am I.” He seemed to be studying the scenery as it passed before returning his attention again to Sadie. “Were you aware that my brother and I are twins?”

“I was.”

“And did you also know that we are close enough to be considered virtually identical by most?”

“I had figured that much,” she said, although any resemblance to the clean-cut Tucker she met last year was fleeting at best considering this man’s scruffy appearance.

“Well, then, here’s the rest of the story. “The firstborn son is given the middle name of his father as his first name. My grandfather’s name was Richard Harrison Tucker. My father’s name is Harrison William Tucker.”

“And so you are William Tucker?”

“Yes. William Jefferson Tucker, to be precise.”

“And you go by Jefferson.”

He nodded. “The complication is that because the doctor could not tell my father which of us was born first, he insisted we both follow the naming tradition. Therefore, I am William Jefferson and my brother is William John.”

“Interesting.”

“Only in that it does complicate matters when the law is looking for William J. Tucker and there are two with the same birthdate and parents.”

“Which is why you were incarcerated.”

“That and the fact that my brother appears not to have inherited any sort of conscience.” He sighed. “So while I commend the Pinkerton Agency for wishing to keep tabs on me, I cannot say it will mean you will somehow find John, though I wish it were so.”

Sadie tried to think of what kind of man would allow his brother to take the fall for his own crimes. To see his brother jailed when he knew he was the one who should have been in prison.

“You’re trying to imagine why my brother would switch places and leave me behind bars.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s a natural question, don’t you think?” Mr. Tucker dabbed at his temple once more and then tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket. “I’ll be owing you a handkerchief too.”

“No, please don’t worry about that. Now, about your brother. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help us to capture him?”

He seemed to consider the question a moment. Slowly, however, he shook his head.

“Miss Callum, I ceased understanding my brother and his ways many years ago. I wish I could help, but I’m afraid I cannot.”

She decided to try another way. “Perhaps you might have some insight into places he frequented before you lost contact with him. Maybe you know of family members who might shelter him?”

“Most of our family is in London, and I assure you none other than perhaps our mother would open the door should he knock.”

“London.” She paused to think on whether John Tucker might have somehow found his way back there. It was possible—anything was possible—and yet it didn’t fit the pattern of behavior he had exhibited thus far.

“You and John were born in London?”

“We were.” He regarded her impassively. “You’re wondering why I don’t sound as though I’m British?”

“I am curious, yes.”

“Part of that is because I’ve made a concerted effort not to. Nothing shuts down a conversation faster than an accent that doesn’t appear to be local, if you know what I mean. However, I am British on my mother’s side and Southern thanks to my father.”

“Alabama?”

“Mobile, yes. John and I divided our time between London and our grandfather’s home in Mobile. The home came to me some years ago after Grandfather died, although my grandmother is still in residence.”

“Just you?”

“Yes, just me. As I said, our family has known of John and his ways for quite some time.”

“I see. Now I am curious. What caused your father to marry a woman from England?”

“A romantic, are you?”

Sadie’s chuckle held no humor. “Hardly.”

“Soured on love at such a young age? A pity. I’m newly released from prison and in hopes of finding an adventure with a lovely lady to remind me of all that is good and pleasant in the world.”

Again her temper flared. The man was teasing her, and not kindly.

“Romance does not always lead to happiness, Mr. Tucker.”

“And yet it could.” He was still teasing, but something in his tone, his expression…

Sadie pressed away thoughts of what sort of man might be hiding beneath the grime. “I believe you were going to tell me about your parents, sir.”

“Yes, of course. My father sailed aboard a Confederate ship during the war. Their job was to run the Northern blockade and find safe port in England, where the cause of the Confederacy was appreciated. The ship would then load up with supplies and return to port somewhere in the South.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I suppose it was. And then one morning my father woke up in England as a man without a country. The South had surrendered. To return meant the vessel would be confiscated and he and his crew would be charged with a number of crimes, not the least of which being piracy. So he released the crew to do as they wished, turned the vessel over to the authorities, and applied for asylum, which was granted. Then he met my mother. They were married soon after.”

As the carriage rolled on down the rutted road, Mr. Tucker seemed lost in thought. Sadie tried to think of what it must have been like for a man to have no home to return to. It must have been very sad indeed.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Miss Callum. I’ve never told anyone that story.”

“It’s a story with a happy ending. There’s nothing wrong with sharing that kind of tale.”

“A happy ending, yes, mostly. John and I certainly enjoyed a good life in England, and we were allowed frequent visits to Alabama once my father’s status as a former Confederate was resolved. Which makes it all the more difficult to understand…”

“Why he turned out so different from you?”

He met her gaze. “Why do you think John and I are so different?”

“Other than the obvious?”

“No, Miss Callum, we’re very much alike, John and I. We have our loyalties. We only differ in what those loyalties are.”

Six

W
hat an interesting statement about differing loyalties between the Tucker brothers. Sadie took a moment to consider the British detective’s words carefully. “That begs the question, then, Mr Tucker. What are your brother’s loyalties?”

He looked away. “John has only one, and that is to himself.”

“And you?” she asked, and then wished she could take the question back. What did it matter what this man pledged allegiance to? He was not the suspect.

“God,” was his simple answer. “And then a few others come after. Family and country would be tied for second.”

“I see.”

Not what she expected from a man who might have become embittered toward the God who had allowed him to rot in a filthy prison for a year.

Heavy clouds gave way to patches of fog and a drizzle of rain as the carriage continued south. Keeping the windows open on her side of the carriage proved impossible when the rain slanted in to dampen everything it touched.

Mr. Tucker had fallen asleep, his head resting against the leather seat in what appeared to be a most uncomfortable angle. Worse, raindrops pelted him, staining his coat a shade darker in places.

The air outside had turned cold, and Sadie was now grateful for her blanket. But Mr. Tucker had neither blanket nor any other protection from the weather.

She made the decision to reach beyond her traveling companion to slide his window up. Just as the glass clicked into place, Mr. Tucker’s eyes flew open and he grabbed her. The world tilted, and she was flat on the floor of the carriage, a half-awake, foul-smelling madman looking down at her.

His fetid breath came in gasps, and then, slowly, he blinked. Fingers bruising her shoulders tightened their grip.

“Release me immediately,” she said, her voice low and every bit as lethal as the Remington in her skirt pocket.

Realization must have hit him then, for he jumped back and scrubbed his face with his hands. Sadie seized the opportunity to scramble back to her seat.

For a moment he stared at her, his gaze wild and his breathing still ragged, and then he cleared his throat. “What happened?” he managed, his voice rough.

“You were being rained on, and I thought it prudent…” Words evaporated as the carriage hit a rut and tossed her against the door. When she returned her attention to Jefferson Tucker, he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“I’m sorry. Instinct. Not an excuse, I know. Did I hurt you?”

He had, but not intentionally. The back of her head throbbed and she might have bruises where his hands had grasped her, but she would not tell him that. Instead, she elected to change the subject. “Have you any idea what you’ll do when you arrive in Mobile?”

She could almost see the confusion dissolve as his thoughts appeared to center on her question. “My first priority is to retrieve the case notes I had delivered there before setting off on my visit with John. Some might say that not having those notes with me when I was falsely incarcerated was a lucky coincidence.”

“But you do not believe in luck?”

He shook his head as his gaze met hers. “Nor do I believe in coincidence.”

Sadie smiled. “Neither do I. Have you any plans to return to London?”

“I suppose that’s up to my superiors.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been off the job for quite a while and away from London. I’m not certain I’ve been missed by anyone other than my mother.”

Sadie had no good response to that, so she settled for a nod and then
drew the blanket close. Mr. Tucker once again settled back against the seat but kept his eyes resolutely open.

At the appointed meeting place just north of Baton Rouge, the driver stopped beneath the sheltering arms of an ancient magnolia tree. The sound of a horse and then men’s voices permeated the interior of the carriage.