Heart of Lies Read online

  “Thank you for the delicious meal.” He lowered his hat onto his head.

  “No trouble, Mr. Abbott.”

  “It’s Tom.”

  “Thank you for letting me know about … Lawrence.” She looked as if she were about to say more but didn’t.

  “I wish it wasn’t such dark news for you.” In truth, he wished this had all been simpler, that he had found the Perkins girl in the cabin and hadn’t had to spend the last few hours alone in Maddie Grande’s company.

  Most of all he wished he hadn’t found her so attractive.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” He stepped out into the rain and sensed her watching from the doorway. He turned and raised a hand to the brim of his hat in farewell. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded, staring at him through rain pouring in streams of silver rivulets off the tin roof.

  Water had collected in low spots in the yard and formed puddles as big as small ponds. He sidestepped what he could and finally reached the shed. The door creaked in protest when he opened it. He stepped into the pungent, shadowed interior. His horse nuzzled his shoulder.

  “Looks like it’s you and me tonight.” He spoke softly to the animal as he pulled the small piece of metal out of his pocket and looked at it.

  There, lying in his palm, was a small comb. It was ornamented with an intricate silver bow encrusted with tiny diamond chips. A much finer piece than anyone the likes of Maddie Grande might own.

  As twilight faded into dusk, darkness gathered in the corners of the cabin. With Tom Abbott tucked in the stable, Maddie could concentrate on his shattering news.

  She walked to an empty chair and sat down, feeling slow and heavy as she tried to come to grips with the idea that Lawrence was dead. How could it be? She’d known him since he was four. Watched him grow up. With all his faults, she considered him family. That was one of the only things that had kept her here for so long.

  Dexter’s words were ingrained on her heart. “We’re not like anyone else. We’re a family with a strong will and that strength helps us survive and thrive. We protect each other from those on the outside who would do us harm.”

  “We protect each other.”

  Now Terrance was in jail, Lawrence was dead, and she was alone.

  If she told Abbott about the Perkins girl, she’d seal Terrance’s fate and surely go to jail herself. So would Anita.

  The wind rammed the rain against the cabin so hard that it was beginning to seep through the paper covering the cracks in the wall. Storms in New Orleans always slowed life to a standstill. Dexter had hated rain for that very reason. There had been no working the streets when it rained, which was perhaps why she found storms somewhat comforting. She’d loved hearing it beat down on the roof and watching it fall in thick ropey strands from the eaves of the tall buildings. The rain washed away the dust and grime on the buildings and put a shine on the leaves and windowpanes. After a passing storm, droplets glittered like diamonds around the city.

  Despite the pounding rain, the cabin seemed hollow with emptiness. It was a blunt reminder of just how lonely her life had become.

  She sat idle in the gathering darkness with her hands limply folded in her lap. At times like this she desperately missed Louie, the young husband she’d lost long ago. She missed Dexter too. She had always been his favorite. He called her his shining star. And he’d been hers. Dexter Grande was the force behind them all. He was a genius. He’d told them so himself.

  Hunger nagged as she thought about the Pinkerton in the shed. Tom Abbott had eaten more than a fair share of her stew, but she’d had no appetite at the time. She was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, though, so she got up and ladled a small portion of stew into a bowl and carried it over to the table. As she passed by the cot where Abbott had slept, she noticed he’d forgotten to take his newspaper.

  She thought about how content he’d looked with the newspaper spread out across his chest. And then she looked closer.

  The paper was folded so that only half of a child’s smiling face showed, but that was enough to set her heart pounding. Maddie set down her bowl, picked up the newspaper, and opened it.

  She found herself staring down at a very good likeness of Penelope Perkins.

  Maddie hurried back to the table and spread the paper out near the lamp. She strained to make sense of the marks on the page, but it was fruitless.

  “Girls don’t need to read,” Dexter had always said. “They probably aren’t even capable of it. It’s a great waste of time to try to teach them.”

  She ran her fingertips over Penelope’s likeness and shook her head. She had no idea how long ago the story had been printed. Newspapers were sold all over the city, which meant that Penelope Perkins’s image had been seen by countless New Orleanians. The papers were no doubt being spread all over Louisiana. This couldn’t be the only copy to have reached this corner of the bayou.

  She pictured the Pinkerton out in the shed. Imagined his dark, shrewd eyes.

  One thing was clear: she had to get to Penelope and get the girl away from Anita. But she couldn’t leave until Tom Abbott was gone.

  CHAPTER 9

  The next morning, the storm moved on, leaving a brilliant blue sky overhead. Tom was lured to the cabin by the aroma of bacon. He paused outside the back door, pulled off his hat, and ran his hand over his hair before he knocked.

  He heard Maddie Grande’s footsteps as she crossed the cabin. A jolt of expectation coursed through him at the thought of seeing her again. He tried to shake it off, irritated by his undeniable attraction to her. As she opened the door, he reminded himself that she was no better than her lowlife brothers, no matter how innocent she seemed. Now that he’d found the diamond comb, he had to tread very carefully. Even so, before he left, he hoped he had an opportunity to ask her about Megan Lane.

  “Mornin',” she said, stepping back to invite him inside.

  He couldn’t help but notice there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, shadows that attested to a sleepless night. She indicated with a wave of her hand that he should sit at the table. As he crossed the room, he saw the paper there. It was folded and waiting for him.

  She dished up a plate piled high with bacon and bits of crab sautéed and scrambled with eggs and onions, served beside a mound of grits, and then went back to pour his coffee. It was as opaque as the muddy bayou water and strong enough to kill a weaker man. He took a few sips and smiled.

  “I forgot to ask if you’d like some sugar with that,” she said.

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  She brought over a cracked sugar bowl along with a plate of hot biscuits. He loaded the coffee with sugar, looked up, and found her watching. When he caught her staring, a hint of a smile graced her lips and her face lit up. His blood warmed to the sight despite his best efforts to ignore it. He wouldn’t let himself be taken in.

  “The twins are of the opinion my coffee could be used for tar and featherin'.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe they’re just weak of heart.” Staring at all the food he said, “You must have been up long before dawn.”

  “I didn’t sleep much.” Her smiled faded. “You know how long Terrance will be in jail?”

  “That depends on whether or not he confesses to the kidnapping.”

  She nodded that she understood.

  “But when he doesn’t?”

  “Confess, you mean?”

  “That’s right. When he doesn’t confess?” She knew they’d have to light Terrance on fire to get him to talk. She doubted that would happen, so sooner or later they’d have to let him go.

  “Do you think he did it?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Then he could have? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “He’s not the confessing kind. That’s what I’m saying.”

  He let her lead the discussion. If Maddie did know something, he wanted the information to come from her voluntarily. He wasn’t about to spook her and make her bolt �
� or worse, panic her into getting rid of the child to escape prosecution.

  “Which is why we need to find the girl. Terrance wounded a policeman. He won’t be getting out of prison anytime soon.” Tom looked at Maddie. “I wouldn’t fret too much unless you know more than you’re telling.” He picked up his fork and dug into the meal. It was some of the best food he’d ever eaten. Simple, flavored just right.

  “Never had bacon and crab together before. You concoct this recipe yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Crab is easy to come by. Bacon came from …” She paused and studied her hands. “The bacon came from a friend up the bayou near Clearwater.”

  “Must not be easy to make friends out here. It’s pretty isolated.”

  She didn’t respond. Her gaze fell to the paper and then darted away. He noticed but pretended to ignore it, with the niggling feeling she knew a lot more than she would admit.

  He polished off half the meal and took a long swig of coffee. Maddie shook her head and ran her fingernail over an indentation in the tabletop. There were a few burn marks here and there, as well as oil stains. She was quiet, lost in contemplation as he finished his breakfast.

  She tucked her long hair behind her ear. “Would you like more?”

  He leaned back and sighed. “That was delicious, but no thanks. I couldn’t swallow another bite.”

  She surprised him by reaching for the Times Picayune. Opening it, she set it on the table and tapped the drawing of Penelope Perkins. “What does this say?”

  He leaned over the paper. His heartbeat accelerated. “It’s a story about the kidnapped child. Why?”

  “I can’t read. I was just wondering what it says.”

  Her expression gave nothing away. If the twins were guilty and if she did know something about the child, then Maddie Grande was a consummate actress.

  He picked up the paper and read the article to her word for word.

  “ ‘Penelope Perkins, eight years old, was kidnapped by two men on the river road as she and her nanny occupied a carriage headed for Kentucky where she was to visit her maternal aunt. Her parents, Peter and Mary Perkins, are offering a reward of two thousand dollars for her safe return, no questions asked.’ “

  “A mother’s heart can’t bear losing a child.”

  He had to strain to hear her. There was something so bleak in Maddie’s voice, such heartfelt understanding in her whisper, that he couldn’t help but wonder if she was speaking from experience.

  “You almost sound as if you know—”

  Pushing out of her chair she picked up his plate and crossed the room.

  “Two thousand dollars is a king’s ransom,” she said.

  “The Perkinses are desperate.” He added, “It says here they lost a baby boy a month ago.”

  He watched her shoulders sag. Her hands stilled. She recovered quickly and slid his plate into a tub of soapy water before she dried her hands on a rag draped over the dry sink.

  “You sure you don’t know anything about this?” He tried to sound as if he didn’t care. As if this wasn’t the very heart of the reason he was here.

  She kept her back to him, stared down into the dishpan. “How could I?”

  But when she finally faced him again, her eyes were haunted. A frown marred her brow. “You’d best be going, Mr. Abbott. I’ve got to see to my traps today.” She sounded distracted as she headed for a rack of antlers with hats and an oilcloth slicker hanging on it.

  If the Perkins child was on the premises, he’d have seen or heard her by now. Last night it had struck him that the Grandes could have hidden her somewhere nearby. There were hundreds of waterways threading through the swamp. She could be hidden in a shed on a spit of land somewhere, in a hidey-hole where they stashed stolen goods.

  “Mind if I go along?” He figured he’d worn out his welcome, but why not press his luck?

  “Would it do any good to tell you no?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not the law, Maddie. You don’t have to have me along.”

  He could almost see her mind working.

  She wasn’t happy about his request but she said, “It’s up to you. Come along if you want.”

  She didn’t seem overly concerned. Perhaps because she wanted him to think she knew nothing of the kidnapping.

  Or maybe he was just hoping that she was innocent.

  The longer Tom Abbott hung around, the more desperately Maddie wanted him gone. She had a feeling he was just waiting for her to accidentally reveal Penelope’s whereabouts. That he was just waiting to pounce. She’d seen him weigh every word, watch her every move, while they discussed the newspaper story.

  She reached for an oilskin coat on the antler rack and pulled it over her brown serge skirt and stained blouse. She’d trimmed the deep hem off the coat and cut the sleeves down but it was still four sizes too big across the shoulders. She sat on the edge of her bed to unfasten and slip off her shoes, then shrugged into a pair of tall leather boots. Once she had the shotgun in hand and her skinning knife sheathed and dangling from her waist, she was ready to leave. Because of the storm, her trap line had gone unchecked yesterday. With the swamp full of predators, if she didn’t get to them soon, there’d be nothing worth saving of the muskrat catch.

  Tom Abbott finished off his coffee. She watched with curiosity as he carried his mug and the rest of his dishes and cutlery to the dry sink before he followed her out onto the dock. As she went about preparing the pirogue, her thoughts were consumed with the Perkins girl.

  She could not shake the sound of Abbott’s voice as he read the story to her. The reward money offered was more than she could fathom.

  “No questions asked.”

  No questions. If she could just deliver the girl, collect the reward, and escape, she’d be free. But even if she did take the child home, there was no way to keep Penelope from telling her parents she had been in league with the twins all along.

  Maybe instead of handing Penelope over, she should have a lock of the child’s hair delivered as proof she had possession of her. Or better yet, the red cape. Maddie could then demand a meeting and exchange Penelope for the reward.

  If she could shake Abbott.

  “Trust no stranger.”

  It was a cardinal rule of Dexter’s.

  Maddie lowered the gun into the pirogue and climbed down from the dock, careful to keep the craft balanced. She held firm to the iron ring where she’d lashed the craft for the night. Catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up. Abbott was waiting to join her.

  “Take care climbing down. Don’t make any sudden moves or you’ll upset the balance and we’ll go over.” She waited until he was aboard before she took up the forked push pole. She loosed the rope and they floated free.

  Abbott sat in silence in the bow of the boat, watching the banks intently. The bayou had had the same seductive affect on her the very first time she’d taken to the water. The twins were unmoved by the haunting, natural beauty of the swamp. The silence did not speak to them the way it did her. Unfortunately, the notion that Tom Abbott was in awe of it too brought her defenses down another notch.

  She studied the way he sat there so casually, one arm propped across his knee, his broad shoulders thrust forward as he studied one side of the bank and then the other. They passed a blue heron poised on one leg near the reeds along the bank and then floated silently past a black snake on the surface of the water.

  “Where are we headed?”

  She jumped at the intrusion of his voice and nearly dropped the pole. She took a deep breath.

  “To the heart of the marsh. Muskrats make tunnels in the soft ground away from the water. When we get there, I’m going to tie up and get out, but you stay put. Walking around on damp ground with tunnels beneath takes some practice.” She feared he might be too heavy-footed to make his way safely across the marsh.

  “I’ll stay put. Guard the pirogue,” he said.

  “Most likely you won’t see anyone out
here. If you do, just wave and don’t look threatening.”

  She slowly edged to the left and poled along between an ever-narrowing thread of water until the boat refused to go any further.

  “How do you know where to set the line?” Abbott had his hand to his brow, shading his eyes as he scanned the landscape. “It all looks the same to me.”

  “A friend told me I’d begin to feel where the rats might be. I choose spots where I’ve found them before and set traps in tunnels and holes. If you look close you’ll get better at recognizing paw prints. Sometimes there are gnawed roots and droppings around the entrances to tunnels.”

  “Your brothers make a lot selling pelts?”

  “My brothers wouldn’t do this on a bet. I do all the trapping and skinning myself, sell the pelts in Clearwater. First town up the road.”

  Abbott turned slowly and carefully, his hands steady on the sides of the pirogue, and stared up at her. “You aren’t joshing, are you? You catch and skin muskrats yourself?”

  “I don’t make jokes, Mr. Abbott.” There wasn’t much in her life to tease about and never had been.

  Carefully, she set down the pole and picked up an axe handle she used to club muskrats that hadn’t died in the traps.

  “Hand me the rope,” she instructed.

  He grabbed the end and stretching toward her, held out his hand. Their fingers touched as he passed the rope over. At the slow brush of his warm skin against hers, Maddie’s gaze involuntarily flew to his eyes. They were dark, unreadable, and held her gaze far longer than she would have liked.

  Did he know what she was thinking? Did her reaction give away just how long it had been since she had been close to someone?

  She was the first to look away. Shaking off her surprise at her reaction, she picked up the shotgun and stepped out. She tried to concentrate on the soft ground beside the boat. This was no time to let her mind wander. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up halfway to her waist in muck.