Deadlier Than the Rest Read online

  Meggie knew he wouldn’t expect her down for at least an hour. She sat down by her window and looked out, remembering the day she’d lost all hope of ever seeing her brothers again.

  Charleston, South Carolina, several years before

  Eugene called her into his study. “Do you remember a few weeks ago when I told you I’d look for your brothers?”

  Her eyes flew open and Eugene could see the anticipation in them. “Yes, I remember.”

  He hated to dash that hope but knew his next words would wipe it from her, leaving her with few options. “My men found where you lived.” It was a hovel, they’d told him. “But they’re gone, Meggie. Left months ago, and no one’s heard from either since.”

  Her whole body deflated at his words. Gone. They’d moved away without her. She bent her head, not wanting Eugene to see the tears that formed.

  “I’m sorry, Meggie. I can continue to search, but…” his voice trailed off.

  She looked up at him, swiping away the moisture from her cheeks. “No, you’ve done everything you can. There’s no way of telling where they’ve gone. I just need to forget them, as they’ve forgotten me.” She stood and walked up so that she touched the edge of his desk with her dress. “Thank you. You did more than I ever expected.” She turned for the door.

  “Meggie?” Eugene’s voice was soft and full of regret.

  “It’s all right. I’ll be all right,” she said without turning and closed the door behind her.

  He sat for a long time, feeling miserable for the young woman he’d come to care about. She wasn’t for him, never would be, but he’d grown to respect her. Meggie never complained, worked hard, and accepted the miserable circumstances life had delivered. Eugene needed to make a decision about her. He could keep Meggie here, perhaps train her as Dodge had suggested, which would mean she’d leave once he’d found her a position elsewhere. Somehow that didn’t seem quite right to him. He poured a drink and pondered her future.

  Another option was for him to take a wife. Meggie could then stay as a maid to the new Mrs. Jackson. The problem was he had no one in mind and no plans to marry. He’d sworn himself to a bachelor’s life without the commitments a relationship involved. However, he hadn’t ever considered a marriage of convenience. The more he thought of it, the more he warmed to the idea. Someone accepted by the Charleston society, who’d bear him an heir, and take care of his household while he remained free to pursue his private interests. It just might work.

  He tossed down the last of his drink and headed out.

  “Ben!”

  “Yes, Mr. Jackson?”

  “I’m riding over to Mr. Delaney’s. Don’t hold supper, I’ll dine with him.”

  “But, Mr. Jackson, there’s a storm coming. Perhaps you should wait?”

  “What I have to tell Delaney won’t wait I’m afraid. If I have to I’ll stay over, but I need to speak with him this evening.”

  Sprinkles of rain had just started as he dashed from the house to his stables, saddling his big stallion. Within minutes he was riding toward Charleston, and Dodge’s estate. Halfway there the storm broke in full and pummeled him and his horse. The sounds of thunder rumbled near, but he pressed on. Just when he thought the rain might be letting up, a large crack of lightning hit a nearby tree, spooking his horse. He tried to calm the animal, but another crack sent the animal into a panic. The horse bucked wildly, sending Eugene flying, smashing his body against a large tree, and rendering him unconscious. His broken body slid to the ground.

  Chapter Seven

  New York City

  “You’re sure of what you heard, Mayfield? All three, Newell, Swain, and Proctor?” Alexander McCann asked Chester Mayfield, one of his lead investigators.

  “Yes, sir. I’m quite positive the men are being released. Something about a new witness coming forward with an alibi for the night of the murders.”

  Alex McCann owned one of the most prestigious private investigation and security firms in New York. He catered to wealthy, elite clientele, but also helped longtime friends when the need arose. One of these was Connor MacLaren. He’d known Connor when both were young and worked the docks of Red Hook. They’d helped each other out of various jams until Connor and Pierce had moved away in search of Meggie.

  Not long after the MacLarens had moved, Alex had found a sponsor who sent him to school and fronted the money to start his business. He’d paid off the sponsor years ago and was now free to help others. At one point, both Connor and Pierce had worked for him. He wished he could lure them back, but that wouldn’t happen until Meggie was found. Mayfield was assigned to help them. Now they handled the search alongside Louis Dunnigan who’d hired his own men to investigate. Alex was of the opinion that the more help the better.

  “When will they be let loose?” Alex couldn’t believe the men Connor and he had caught at the murder site with the weapons still in their hands would be released. They were cold-blooded killers. They’d vowed during their trial that they were innocent and when they got out would come after Connor and Alex. All three should have hung, but a deal had been made and they’d been sent to Auburn Prison instead.

  “Three days.”

  “Shit,” Alex muttered. “That’s Friday. I’ll get messages off to Dunnigan and Connor. You grab two other men and keep watch when the prisoners are released—one man on each. I want to know where they go, who helps them, and what they do each day. If you need more men just let me know. Understand?”

  “Yes, but what about you?” Mayfield knew that Alex would now be a target. “Even though we’ll keep watch, you need someone with you at all times.”

  Alex was taken aback. It hadn’t registered that his life was in danger also. “So you think I need a body guard? Are you implying I can’t take care of myself, Chester?”

  “Well, no, sir. But you need to consider it. These men are killers and they blame you and MacLaren for putting them in prison. You aren’t safe.” Mayfield wiped a handkerchief across his damp brow. “What about Mr. Jericho?”

  “I just dispatched him to Salt Lake to keep an eye on Connor.” Alex needed to think about Mayfield’s suggestion. His home and office were secure, but he moved in elite circles that could endanger others. “Get me Hatcher.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chester left with a sense of accomplishment. Lee Hatcher was the perfect choice—unobtrusive, professional, and dead accurate when the need arose. Besides, he owed Alex his life.

  ******

  Salt Lake City

  The pitch black afternoon clouds moved from the west. It would soon cover Salt Lake, blocking the sun and unleashing a pounding thunderstorm. Grace watched as the darkness crept over the farm. She didn’t want to leave, preferring to watch for Meggie, and confirm that Jeremiah hadn’t mistreated her. Guilt plagued Grace every day at the thought she’d left her friend to defend herself from the disgusting creature who was their husband. She’d snuck out without a word. Meggie must hate her.

  Grace pulled her eyes from the growing storm, then glanced at the farmhouse back door when she heard a shout. It was Ada, calling the girls inside.

  She had to leave if she was going to make it back in time for the evening customers. Jasper had been good to give her most of the day off. People who didn’t appreciate his kind nature or generous heart would sometimes take advantage of the man. Grace didn’t want to be one of those. She slipped through the bushes to return to her horse. Before she had gone far, the sound of men’s voices drifted through the air. Grace crouched low and listened. She was glad the horse was still hidden a good distance away. The sound increased until it seemed the voices were right on top of her.

  Grace ventured a look around a dense stand of trees and froze. Jeremiah and another man moved toward her. She had seen a man ride up earlier, but hadn’t noticed Jeremiah leaving the house to meet him. She’d been too busy worrying over Meggie and watching the clouds.

  But now they had moved within several yards of her. The other man waved his arms back and fo
rth in front of Jeremiah, but her husband just ignored them. Once or twice Jeremiah attempted to placate the other man, but gave up when it became apparent his words didn’t help.

  “The picture was you, Jeremiah. There was no mistaking the likeness. Why is this man here and looking for you?” Ezra Thomas, the owner of the general store had ridden to the farm. “This could not come at a worse time. We have all agreed to meet again to discuss the establishment of a new community. But now, with this man looking for you, it may be unwise to take the chance that he will be watching.”

  “Were you followed?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I watched but saw no one.”

  “Then he does not know you are here, that you know me, or that there will be a gathering this week, correct?”

  “I suppose.” Ezra spoke the words but the tone and hesitancy of his voice told Jeremiah that the man was frightened.

  “You are worried over nothing, my friend. Go home. Tell the others that the stranger does not seek me as I have done nothing. My conscious is clean.” Jeremiah’s eyes panned the countryside, a clear sign that he, too, was agitated at the stranger’s persistence in locating the man in the drawing. “The gathering will take place as planned.” He clapped Ezra on the shoulder as the two men turned toward the house.

  Grace’s heart had slammed into her chest as the men approached. They’d stopped perhaps fifteen feet away before finishing their conversation. Her feet seemed frozen in place and she’d developed chills—more from the fear of being discovered than the cold breeze.

  The conversation replayed in her mind. Someone was looking for Jeremiah, but who, and why? Although he was a despicable, disgusting man, who had no respect for women and saw them only as vessels to fulfill his needs, he had not broken any laws, at least none that Grace knew about. The church allowed men to rule their households in the manner needed to attain discipline. She’d never heard of a man being punished for mistreating his wife. No, there must be another reason for the search.

  Grace hurried to her horse. She glanced at the farm house in time to see Meggie step off the back stoop. At least she knew her friend was okay. There was much to do before coming back for Meggie. That would be her last time on the farm. It would be the day she took Meggie away.

  ******

  Roy Crowley had followed Ezra out of Salt Lake only to lose him when a large herd of sheep blocked the road. There had been no way to ride around. He hadn’t been able to catch-up to the store owner and accepted that he’d have to wait.

  He’d watched from a distance as Ezra rode toward him a couple of hours later. The detective hadn’t discovered who Thomas had gone to meet. As Ezra guided his horse toward Salt Lake, Roy noticed another figure riding low but in the same direction several hundred yards behind Thomas. When the rider sat up he noticed it was a woman. Roy backed further into the bushes, allowing her to pass within several yards before he reined his horse around to follow.

  He didn’t follow Ezra, confident the man was riding back to his store. Instead, he stayed on the woman, curious as to who she was and why she’d be riding from the farm alone.

  The afternoon sky had turned to ebony. Flashes of lightning preceded loud cracks of thunder, while the wind continued to whip her dress around her legs. Grace looked up and caught a fat drop of water on her face before brushing it off and continuing down the almost deserted street. She was just a couple of blocks from the restaurant, but turned into the entrance of Ruth’s property to return the horse. Grace still couldn’t believe her good fortune at finding a friend such as Mrs. Dix. Of course, if Grace called her that Ruth would scold her. She preferred Ruth, insisted on it if they were to remain friends.

  Grace rode into the stable, dismounted, and removed the saddle. By the time she’d started to groom the horse, Ruth had joined her, offering a hot cup of coffee and biscuits.

  “Did you find what you were after, Grace?”

  “Yes, and no,” Grace replied. “It’s complicated.”

  “I have no place to go if you want to talk about it.” Ruth sat down on a bale of hay and waited. She held her cup in both hands, warming from the chill of the storm.

  Grace finished with the horse, threw in some clean hay, and stretched. She hadn’t ridden that far or fast in a long time. It felt good. Her parents had a horse, but Jeremiah wouldn’t allow his horses to be used for anything except farm work and pulling their wagon.

  “I rode out to check on a friend. She’s isolated and I needed to be sure she is all right.”

  “And is she?”

  “No, not really.” Grace stopped to decide how much more she could tell Ruth. She needed someone to confide in and knew Ruth wouldn’t betray her. “She’s the youngest of four wives.”

  Ruth took that in a moment. “I see. Does she want to leave?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t know I’ve come to see her, or that I plan to help her leave. No one knows, except you.”

  Ruth stood and took Grace by the arm. “Come on inside. This is going to take some time.”

  “I really should leave for the restaurant.” Although voiced, Grace’s protest was weak.

  “Don’t worry about Jasper. There won’t be much business in this weather, and if need be, I’ll speak to him.” Ruth tightened her grip on Grace’s arm just enough to lead her in the right direction as the rain pounded down around them.

  Roy watched from a distance as the two women dashed through the storm and into the house. He’d heard of this woman. Ruth Dix. She and her late husband were almost legends in Salt Lake. It wouldn’t be hard to find out more about her, or about Ruth’s relationship with the young woman.

  Something about the younger woman nagged at him. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place the face. By the time he’d gotten a good look at her she was drenched, but the feeling he’d met her before remained. Well, Roy knew he’d figure it out in time. He decided his time was now better spent following Ezra and learning more about the man on the farm.

  ******

  It was late by the time Roy joined Fred and Connor at the little restaurant where they’d met a few nights earlier. He was beat, and by the looks of the others, they were as well.

  “Coffee, gentlemen?” Jasper asked as he set down three cups.

  “All around,” Fred said and picked up his cup. “Plus a steak for me, if you’ve got one.”

  “Same here,” Roy said before letting the owner leave for the kitchen.

  “And you?” Jasper asked Connor.

  “Same.” Connor looked around the restaurant. It was about half full but no sign of Grace. It appeared Jasper was the only one working the front. It annoyed him that he felt disappointment at her absence.

  “Got some bad news, Connor.” Fred reached in his pocket and took out the telegram from Alex McCann. “You need to read this.”

  Connor took the message and read it through. His face didn’t change, nor did he speak—just folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.

  “That’s it?” Fred asked.

  “What else is there? Swain, Newell, and Proctor are being released. Nothing can change that.”

  “And if they come this way to find you and make good on their threats?”

  “They’re dead.”

  Roy and Fred looked at each other but neither spoke. Connor was right. If those men came to Salt Lake to find him, neither man believed for a moment that the three would leave alive.

  Their conversation was interrupted as Jasper placed their food down and refilled their coffee.

  “The message mentions something about Jericho. You know the man?” Fred cut into his steak and took a bite.

  Connor didn’t understand why Alex had sent their long-time friend, Jericho, to Salt Lake. He should be in New York, protecting Alex and his family. Connor didn’t want to place any others in danger if the three did show up in Utah.

  Alex and he had met Jericho, or Mr. Jericho as he liked to be called, when they were working the docs in Red Hook. He and Alex had been about seventeen.
Jericho was the owner of a bar near the harbor and didn’t take to water rats who didn’t treat his customers with respect.

  Alex and Connor were minding their own business, drinking beers after a long day, when three men walked up and grabbed their drinks, tossing the liquid on the floor. “We don’t allow no Irish trash in this place,” one man bellowed and slammed his fist on their table.

  Alex leaned back in his chair and grinned. “That’s good then as we’re Scots.”

  The man glared at Alex, gripped his shirt, and hauled him up. If Jericho hadn’t interrupted the scene, Alex would have ended with at least a broken nose and maybe more. Connor would’ve been treated to the same. Instead, Jericho grabbed the man by his collar and belt, walked him to the entrance, and threw him out, then turned to the bloke’s companions. “You two want the same, or can you make it outside under your own steam?” he’d asked them. They’d fled and never returned to the small bar.

  Jericho had been a fixture in both their lives, as well as Connor’s brother Pierce, ever since. He worked for Alex most of the time but had also worked for Louis Dunnigan, helping Drew MacLaren overcome his injury. Now he was being sent to help Connor. The man was at least fifty. Connor wondered if Jericho would ever slow down.

  “Hey, MacLaren, you still with us?” Fred asked when Connor hadn’t responded to his question about Jericho.

  “Yes, I know Mr. Jericho. Alex and I’ve known him for years. You can trust him.” Connor finished his steak and looked around the room. No sign of the pretty young woman who normally served him.

  Just then the door flew open and Grace raced toward the kitchen, soaking wet, and shivering.

  Roy’s head snapped up at the sight of her. “It is her,” he said and started to rise.

  Connor stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What are you talking about?”

  Roy filled Fred and Connor in about following Ezra Thomas, then losing him. He explained about following the young woman to Ruth Dix’s home. “She appeared to be following Thomas. I’d like to know why.”

  “Who’s Ruth Dix?” Connor asked.