The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (81 page)

“Oh, God, it’s
eating me
.” She hit it again and again until warm liquid flowed down her leg, and its teeth relaxed. She shook her leg and it fell away.

Her mouth was cotton dry, and her voice was barely a whisper.

She dozed again, head lolling against the wall. She woke to a rat nibbling on crusted blood on her neck. She lifted her hand and swatted it away, then leaned back against the wall, and very slowly, as to not jostle her head, she pulled the wig the rest of the way off and used it to cover her face. It smelled of blood and sweat.

She closed her eyes, needing to see the stars again, her light in the darkness.

If she removed the binding around her breasts, she could wrap her hands and face and neck. She needed to do it now. If she waited, she might not have the strength in an hour, but if she took off the binding, her ribs might hurt even more. No, leave the binding in place. She wasn’t sure whether it was onion-hand’s squeezing or Gordon’s punches which had damaged her ribs. It didn’t matter now. The pain of breathing was getting worse, probably because she was panicking. Slowing her breath, she fell back asleep.

A rat woke her, gnawing on her bitten, bloody ear. “Get off me,” she slurred. She grabbed it, yanking and tearing the soft flesh of her ear before its teeth released. She threw it as hard as her exhausted arm could manage.

God, she was thirsty. All she wanted was a little sip. And a cracker would settle her stomach. Water. A little bit of water would be enough. Something was wrong with her. She was tired, so tired. And her brain couldn’t think. Were her eyes even open? In the pitch black, she couldn’t tell, but she could see the stars.

A bee stung her butt or a damn rat bit her. “Ouch.” She dug her hand down inside her trousers and found a hot, hard spot high on her hip. It was the same spot where she had noticed a bug bite while at MacKlenna Farm. But now the spot was tingling. She was so tired. She slid down the wall to the ground again, curled up tightly, and went back to sleep.

A flash of light from above woke her. A rat’s sharp toenails clung in her hair. A shadow, black against black, glided stealthily toward her, much bigger than a rat. She cowered in the corner, shivering. “Where are you, David? Help me.”

87

Washington City, 1865

B
raham and Cullen
returned home tired but exhilarated after a long day in court. The prosecution had produced four witnesses in their case against Jack. Each one testified to seeing him with Booth within weeks of the assassination. Braham had been unable to shake the witnesses’ testimony until he asked the question, “Was the defendant writing in a journal or on a piece of paper during the conversation?” Each witness answered yes, which bolstered Jack’s defense of being in the process of interviewing Booth for an article.

On redirect, General Holt asked the witnesses if Jack was talking in a low or normal voice, and if he seemed concerned others might overhear the conversation. Each witness testified he wasn’t whispering.

On recross, Braham asked the witnesses if they overheard any of the conversations. Each testified they heard Jack and Booth talking about their favorite playwrights, and which theaters in Philadelphia and New York had the best performance spaces. The witnesses claimed the conversations were boring.

General Holt asked on re-redirect why they hadn’t mentioned the conversations during their initial interviews. Two witnesses claimed they hadn’t been asked. The spectators snickered, and General Hunter slammed his gavel, demanding order in the courtroom.

If anyone was keeping a tally, the defense was ahead, but the prosecution’s most damning witnesses, the carriage driver and Henly, were scheduled to testify the next day. Braham and Cullen had a long night of preparation ahead.

Although Braham wanted to go straight home to see Charlotte, Cullen insisted they stop at the Willard for drinks. They didn’t need the alcohol, but they did need to be seen in public. Jack was innocent, and swaying public opinion was part of their strategy. Being at the Willard made them accessible to other lawyers, businessmen, members of society with influence, and, most importantly, President Johnson’s political supporters.

They arrived home around nine to find Jonathan Clem alone in the parlor, dozing in a straight-back chair. Braham tossed his briefcase on top of a table hard enough to rattle its legs. The porcelain knick-knacks clinked, and he cringed. Kit had bought them during a visit to Washington, claiming the room needed a feminine touch. He turned back quickly, holding out his hands in case any toppled off the table.

Cullen laughed. “Kit wouldn’t be happy if you broke one of her treasures.”

Startled, Clem jumped to his feet, clearing his throat, his hat gripped in his hands.

Braham straightened the figurines. “A soldier doesn’t need breakables in his damn parlor.” He glanced at the startled sergeant. “Evening, Clem. Where’s Doctor Mallory?”

In the glow of the gaslight, the soldier’s face appeared unusually haggard and lined. “Sir, she was…kidnapped this afternoon from the park.”

Braham dropped the angel figurine he’d been holding. “
She what?
” He stomped over to the contrite sergeant and grabbed his shoulders, bunching the fabric of the shirt in his hands. “
Why aren’t you out looking for her
?” Fear mixed with rage froze the breath in Braham’s lungs. A quiver of panic leached all reason from his mind. He shook Clem until Cullen pulled Braham back, hard, and his grip on the sergeant’s shoulders loosened.

The color had drained from Clem’s face. “Mr. Gaylord told me to stay put and wait for you.”

Braham’s heart raced. He swept his fingers through his hair in a quick gesture, trying to harness his raging fear. “
Where’s MacBain
?”

“He was riding over to Maryland today to interview witnesses. Mr. Gaylord sent a man after him. It’s all I know.”

“Where’s Gaylord now?”

Clem shrugged. “I can track him down. He leaves messages around town so he can be found.”

Now, rock-hard anger the size of a fist lodged in Braham’s throat. “Then go find him,
now.
”

Clem ran out of the room, slamming the front door on his way out of the house.

Edward entered the room with a broom to sweep up the broken china.

“You didn’t ask the sergeant what time she was taken,” Cullen said.

“Three o’clock,” Edward said. “Or thereabouts.”

Both men faced the butler. “Did ye’ see what happened?” Braham asked.

Edward shook his head. “No. I was at the door when Miss Charlotte went out. Within an hour, the sergeant returned, blood dripping down his head. Said, he’d been hit over the head and when he came to, Miss Charlotte was gone.”

“Did he see the men? Were they hired thugs? Young, old?” Cullen asked.

“They were wearing soldier’s trousers,” Edward said. “I sent one of the maids out to leave word at the shop up the street for Gaylord to come quickly. He came, talked to the sergeant, and then left, saying he’d get his men out to search the city.”

Braham’s jaw worked in barely controlled rage. “Why didn’t you send word to me?”

Edward dropped his head. “I knew you and Mr. Montgomery were working on Mr. Jack’s case. I’m sorry if I did wrong, sir.” He glanced up at Braham, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I didn’t think Miss Charlotte would want you to abandon Jack for her. She’s told me every day, ‘Jack comes first, Edward.’ Whatever else happened around her, Jack had to come first.”

Braham collapsed in a chair and buried his head in his hands. “You did the right thing, Edward.”

Cullen poured drinks and handed Braham a glass. “Do ye’ think Henly took her?”

Braham studied the glass for a moment before taking a quick gulp. “Yes. I don’t think he’ll kill her, but he’ll hurt her.” He set the glass aside and got up again to pace the room, thinking.

“Do you think he’ll rape her?” Cullen asked.

Braham punched his fist into his palm, smacking it again and again. “He’s had her for six hours. He implicated Jack in a conspiracy, he’s capable of ruining her life, too.”

“But would he—?”

“
I don’t know.
” Icy fear grew in Braham’s chest. “His drug addiction might have made him impotent. At least Charlotte thinks it has.”

“Which could make him more violent,” Cullen said.

Braham’s hand shook as he picked up the glass again and held it at his lips. “As soon as Gaylord gets here, I’m going out to look for her. You stay and prepare for tomorrow. You’ll have to handle the cross-examination.”

“If you find Henly, for God’s sake, don’t play into his hands. We need him on the witness stand tomorrow.”

Braham swirled the contents in the glass, staring at the golden liquid as if it held answers. “If he’s hurt her, I can’t make any promises.”

The door opened, and David rushed in. “I got an urgent message. Has something happened to Jack?”

“Charlotte’s been kidnapped.” Cullen said.

David’s face held his usual immutable calm, but his hands clamped into tight fists. “How long ago?”

Braham took a short, calming breath. “Six hours. She could be anywhere in the city. Gaylord’s men are out searching. We just sent for him. He should be here shortly to give us a report.”

“I’ll find her.” The ruthlessness in David’s voice was chilling. He rolled up his sleeve and pushed buttons on the special watch he wore, much like the one Braham had seen on Jack’s wrist. David wore his device high on his forearm and out of sight. “Elliott anticipated this. If we were at home, I could locate her within seconds. This equipment will take longer.”

“How much longer? Days?” Anticipation tightened the back of Braham’s throat.

“If it works, minutes.” David’s broad shoulders tightened, and his muscles were starkly defined beneath the tight fit of his linen shirt. The room grew quiet, motionless except for the occasional flutter of a curtain hanging in front of the open window. David kept his eyes on his watch. “Braham, do ye’ remember how Charlotte and Jack found you in Kentucky?”

Braham walked up behind David and looked over his shoulder, glancing at the watch. “Elliott called it a tracking device.”

“Charlotte has a tracking device similar to those used to locate Alzheimer’s patients who wander away from nursing homes. I just activated it. If it’s going to work, we should get a signal very soon.” Within seconds, the watch beeped. “Bingo. She’s about two miles in a northeasterly direction. At home, I could give ye’ a street address. Here all I get is a general location.”

“How do you know you’ve found Charlotte? The kidnapper could have taken the device,” Braham said.

“Or, it could be lost like the sapphire brooch,” Cullen said.

David gave Cullen a dark, sideways look. “It’s implanted in her hip. She doesn’t even know she has it.”

A vision of Charlotte
au naturel
with David’s hands on her left Braham aghast. “You put the device inside of her without her knowledge?” Anger bubbled to the surface, and he raised his fist to slam it into David’s face, but Cullen caught his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Cullen asked, holding tight to Braham.

David shrugged. The movement was tight, impatient. “It’s a device. I didn’t know if it would work here or not. Besides, knowing she had the implant could have given her a false sense of security, and we didna need her going off half-cocked.”

Outwardly, MacBain appeared unruffled, but a small tic in his jaw as he ground his teeth told Braham the lad was truly worried about Charlotte. Braham’s eyes stung, and he turned away, noticing for the first time one of her shoes peeking out from under the sofa. Fear settled on his shoulders like a confining cloak he couldn’t shake off. “If you know where she is, then let’s go.”

David shook his head. “I need backup. We’ll wait for Gaylord.” He left the room and leaped up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

“Do you think the signal will lead us to her?” Cullen’s voice held doubt.

“I drove a car five hundred miles from Mallory Plantation to MacKlenna Farm, and Jack and Charlotte found me using a similar device. It fit in the palm of my hand. I hope the one Charlotte has implanted is a wee bit smaller.”

“Do you think Henly took her?”

“I know he did. If I’m spending my time looking for Charlotte, I can’t be in court fighting for Jack.”

“He’s forcing ye’ to choose one Mallory or the other.” Cullen’s voice was low and gravelly.

“Whichever one I don’t fight for, he’ll kill, or, in Jack’s case, perjure himself and let the commission send Jack to the gallows. When I get my hands on Henly…”

Cullen squeezed Braham’s shoulder. “We’ll rescue her, and you’ll destroy Henly on the witness stand and exonerate Jack.”

“Let’s get the lass back first.”

David reentered the room dressed in black pants and shirt, plus a black cap, and he’d covered his face with black paint. He hoisted a bag over his shoulder. “Braham, if ye’re coming, ye’ have to stay out of my way. I have no doubt ye’ could rescue Charlotte if I weren’t here. But Jack needs you more than she or I do right now. I can extract Charlotte and set up reconnaissance to catch the kidnapper. But I can’t do it if ye’re in my way.”