The Lady Who Drew Me In Page 10

  “Finished,” she said, snapping him back to attention. She held out the sketch. Jackson was amazed at how accurately she’d replicated the original he’d given to the chief of police. She did, indeed, have an exceptional memory. Right down to the finest details.

  “How do you do it?” he asked. “Few artists can capture the likeness of a subject without the aid of an actual subject.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t explain how it comes to me so easily. The picture in my mind just flows from my brain to my hands, and then onto the page.”

  “As it does while entranced?”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “Have you ever considered using your talent to help the authorities solve crimes?”

  She tilted her head, eyeing him warily.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “Your skills are unique.” He warmed at the blush in her cheeks. The sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of her nose accentuated her fresh-faced allure. “But then again, so are you.”

  Her pensive smile became broader, and then she burst out laughing. “You honestly can’t help it, can you, Jackson?”

  “Can’t help what?” he asked with his most innocent expression.

  “Flirting,” she said, laughing some more. “Using flattery to seduce.”

  He smiled. “Is it working?”

  She shook her head at his hopelessness. She saw clearly through his shallow composition, but unlike most women, Daisy ensured that he knew it. The fact was as unnerving as it was liberating. In this temporary arrangement he could be himself—whatever that meant—and the result wouldn’t matter. The outcome of their relationship was already set.

  “Nevertheless, I meant every word that I said.”

  “Let’s see how I do with helping you with this case before you hire me out to the Troy City Police Department.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, enjoying her smile and the effortless ease it brought to his soul. He didn’t know what he expected from this woman, but come autumn, when all was said and done, he knew he couldn’t bear for her to hate him.

  “Can we stop at the general store in the village?” Daisy asked. “I’d like to get some licorice sticks for Andy.”

  Jackson nodded. “I can show your sketch around the store, see if anyone recognizes the man. Someone must have seen him at some point.”

  Daisy frowned. “It vexes me to no end that this man thinks he got away with murder.”

  “But we know better, don’t we?”

  “We just have to prove it,” she said.

  “And we have to be careful. You let me do the talking when I question people about the sketch. Witnesses tend to be skittish about getting involved.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  She considered them partners, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind. “We’ll start at the store. Then we’ll go door to door if necessary, until we find someone who remembers seeing the man. Someone had to have seen him somewhere between the Wendell farm and Troy.”

  “You think he headed to Troy?”

  “It makes sense. This man is a bad egg. He could have killed Wendell, stashed the items he stole from the house in Morgan’s cart, returned to Troy, leaving Morgan as the patsy. He may have known Morgan, who knows.”

  “Jackson, look.” Daisy pointed to the sky in the distance. A thick haze hung in the air, a gray cloud hovering above the treetops.

  Hair prickled on the back of Jackson’s neck. “It’s smoke.”

  Daisy gazed toward the mountains, squinting beneath the brim of her hat. “Smoke?”

  The alarm in her voice was justified. Jackson felt a twinge of the same in the pit of his stomach. “Probably smoke from a fire at one of the logging camps. We’re almost to the village,” he said, slapping the reins. The wagon picked up speed. They drove along at a steady pace past acres of rolling fields dotted with cows and neat rows of newly planted corn.

  When they reached the edge of town, a wagon was stopped on the road in front of a small farmhouse. The passengers in the wagon were talking with a couple on the side of the road.

  “Something’s going on,” Jackson mumbled. He pulled back on the reins, slowing the horse as they neared. An assembly of faces turned toward them, all wearing the same troubled expression.

  With a sweeping wave, an elderly man dressed in baggy denim overalls and a straw hat directed Jackson to pull the wagon up behind the other. The plump woman at the farmer’s side hurried toward them. The strain of her pace and suppressing the forthcoming news left her cheeks so flushed Jackson feared she might burst.

  “There was a fire on the mountain,” she announced. “A bad one.”

  The old man hobbled over as fast as his weary bones allowed. “The house was burned to the ground.”

  “What house?” Jackson asked.

  “The Rhodes house.”

  “Oh my God,” Daisy gasped.

  Jackson’s hand on her knee kept her from jumping from the bench. “Is everyone all right?” he asked amid the rising panic swelling in his chest.

  “Mrs. Rhodes took it bad in the lungs,” the farmer said.

  “What about Andy?” Daisy croaked.

  Jackson eased her back in the seat, trying hard to stay calm. “What of the boy?” he demanded.

  The woman lowered her head.

  “No word on the boy yet,” the farmer said. “They took Edna over to the Carney place where the doctor’s working on her.”

  “She’s a tough one,” the woman added. “She’ll pull through. I don’t care what they’re saying.”

  Jackson gave a nod, then snapped the reins hard. “Hang on,” he told Daisy as they sped around the other wagon and down the dusty road.

  Daisy was clenching her skirts so hard her knuckles were white. Jackson hadn’t the words to soothe her fears, so he just reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Her fingers gripped his, and she held tight as they raced through town. Passing people abuzz with the excitement of the early morning fire, they maneuvered through the traffic at the intersection and headed up the mountain.

  The smell of smoke permeated the air; the haze became thicker and thicker. He identified the Carney house even before he saw the name painted in white letters on the huge boulder at the bottom of the crowded drive. On the porch, a solemn group gathered in vigil for Mrs. Rhodes.

  Jackson snapped the reins harder, a futile attempt to spare Daisy from the sight of the house and the dismal imaginings of what was happening inside.

  They reached the charred remains of Mrs. Rhodes’s house, and Jackson’s stomach turned in revolt. The house where he’d sat drinking cider that day was completely destroyed. The devastation was so vast, so ugly. A lifetime of comfort and memories drifted off in the billowing smoke. Jackson steeled his emotions as he helped Daisy from the wagon. They hurried toward one of the volunteer firemen surrounding the smoking skeleton of the house.

  “What happened?” Jackson asked.

  “It went up fast. From what we got from Edna, she must have left on a lamp when she went to bed, and one of those damn cats knocked it over. The lamp was on the table by the window so the curtains went up and that was that.”

  “What about Andy?” Daisy asked, frantically.

  “We’re looking. He may have gotten out. We have men searching the fields,” he said. “Got men ready to search the rubble, too, but we can’t get near it yet.”

  Daisy’s legs buckled beneath her, and Jackson caught her around the waist. The man stepped toward them. “Better get her out of here, mister. This ain’t no place for a woman.”

  “I’m fine.” Daisy regained her footing quickly, but her voice trembled. “I want to help look for him. He may have gotten out of the house. He may have run away.”

  “We’re hoping so too, ma’am. If he’s out there, we’ll find him. I promise.”

  Jackson led Daisy away, turning her from the sight of the house. He held her face between his hands. “They’ll find him safe and sou
nd.” The anguish in her eyes mixed with tears. She didn’t cry, but he could tell she wanted to. She’d lost her foster family in a fire; she’d lived this nightmare before. He drew her into his arms and held her tight, struggling against his own fear for the fortitude to calm hers. “We should go see Mrs. Rhodes and find out how she’s doing.”

  Daisy nodded against his chest. She eased from his embrace, then stiffened, clenching his arms. She gaped over his shoulder. “Andy!”

  Jackson spun around to see two men charging from the field. The taller man carried a boy. Jackson smiled as the other searchers and spectators erupted into cheers.

  Daisy broke free of Jackson’s grip and raced toward the field. Recognizing her immediately, Andy squirmed from the man’s arms, then jumped down, running through the tall grass toward Daisy as fast as his little legs could carry him. Daisy dropped to her knees, and he flung himself into her arms.

  Relief coiled through Jackson, and he swallowed against the tight knot of emotion in his throat. The boy wrapped his arms around Daisy’s neck. Hanging on for dear life, he buried his face into the safety of her golden hair.

  Jackson cleared his throat, blinking hard as he watched. Daisy’s bonnet hung behind her as she shielded Andy from the horror of the charred ruins just a few yards away. The scene reminded Jackson of everything that was good in this world, all the things that truly mattered. Things like love and faith and charity—things he’d touched on the surface, but never quite felt.

  The spectators and volunteers circled the two men who’d found Andy, eager for the story. “I found him up at the Shaw place,” the man who’d carried Andy explained. He pointed to the bearded man beside him. “This is Jacob Squires. He bought the Shaw place. Andy was sleeping on his porch.”

  Jacob shrugged his burly shoulders. “Didn’t even know the boy was out there,” he said, “until I heard the ruckus.” He adjusted his spectacles. “Me and the misses just moved in last week. She’s a dainty creature, and the trip from Pennsylvania about did her in.”

  The crowd gathered around Jacob, bombarding him with questions and welcoming him to town. Jackson walked to Daisy and Andy. He tousled Andy’s hair, and the boy gave him a crooked smile.

  Jackson’s relief that the boy was safe was shadowed by suspicion. The possibility the fire was arson could not be ruled out. An eerie premonition crept up his spine. The celebratory mood in the air only heightened his fear. Andy might be in true danger. Until the man in Daisy’s sketch was apprehended, no one was safe.

  Chapter 12

  No one who’d witnessed Andy’s tender reunion with Daisy could object to her suggestion she and Jackson take the boy to see Mrs. Rhodes. Andy sat in the wagon between them with a tabby cat, the sole survivor of the seven strays that had shared the house with him and Mrs. Rhodes. They drove most of the short distance to the Carney house in welcome silence. After the chaos of the fire, Daisy found solace in the rhythm of the moving wagon and the simple presence of their company.

  Her relief that Andy was safe mixed with her sympathy for his terrible misfortune. First the murder of his father and the loss of his home, and now the loss of his foster home. But he had survived. As she had. She wiped at her tears in a futile attempt to contain her emotions.

  Jackson, on the other hand, was all business. His inquisitive manner befit a lawyer’s when he asked, “Did you notice any strangers around the house lately, Andy?”

  Andy stroked the cat on his lap, his small hand tensing suddenly on its coat of striped fur. “No,” he uttered, lowering his gaze.

  “Are you sure, Andy?” Daisy asked.

  He shrugged. “I thought I saw a man in the window, but Mrs. Rhodes said it was only shadows from the tree branches, and that I have a strong ’magination. Then she tucked me in, and I went to sleep. Tabs woke me up. He kept meowing till I opened my eyes. They were hurting from the smoke. I called for Mrs. Rhodes, but she didn’t answer. Tabs jumped out the window. I was scared, so I followed him into the field.”

  “That’s a smart boy,” Daisy said, wrapping her arm around him. “Tabs saved your life.”

  Andy nodded.

  Daisy glanced at Jackson. She knew from his grim expression that he wasn’t at all convinced that Andy had imagined a man in the window. For the boy’s sake, and to Jackson’s credit, he held any frightening suspicions to himself.

  When they reached the Carney house, they were greeted by jubilant cheers and applause. Apparently, someone from the fire site had raced ahead with the news Andy was safe. They climbed from the wagon and then walked to the crowded porch.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Jackson said.

  Daisy gave him a nod before ushering Andy through the door. If possible, there were more people crammed inside the small front room of the house than there were out on the porch. A heavyset woman hurried toward them. “I’m Mrs. Carney,” she told Daisy. Planting her hands on her ample hips, she pinned Andy with a stern frown. “You gave us quite a scare, young man. Whatever possessed you to run away like that?”

  Andy lowered his head.

  Daisy reined back the urge to lambast the woman. How dare she scold the boy for surviving, regardless of how he’d managed to do it? “How is Mrs. Rhodes?” Daisy asked instead.

  “She’s doing better. The doctor says she’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

  Daisy exhaled a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. May we see her?”

  “Of course. This way.”

  They followed the woman to the back of the house to the last room at the end of the narrow hall. “Edna, look who’s here,” Mrs. Carney announced.

  Mrs. Rhodes glanced up from the bed. Her disheveled gray hair seemed grayer around her pale face, and she looked as though she’d aged ten years since the last time Daisy had seen her. After the ordeal of the fire, Daisy wasn’t surprised. The old woman’s life had been spared, but her place in the world had been reduced to a smoking pile of rubble.

  Mrs. Rhodes struggled upright on the pillows, holding out her arms. Her groggy eyes welled with tears. “Oh, thank you, Lord.” She croaked out the words, the pain audible as they rose from the smoke-raw hollow of her throat.

  Andy hurried toward her, then hugged her tight.

  “Oh, what will become of you now?” she cried, hugging him tighter. “I’ll have to go live with my sister in Albany,” she said to Daisy as she released the boy. “This poor child will have to go to the orphan asylum for sure.”

  Daisy’s heart sank to her feet. “Is there no one else who can care for him?”

  Mrs. Rhodes shook her head, sinking back to the pillows.

  “Folks are busy running their farms,” Mrs. Carney said. “This tyke is too small yet to be of much help.”

  “Don’t fret, Mrs. Rhodes,” Andy said in a frightened little voice. “I’ll be all right.” He spoke the courageous words through trembling lips as he consoled the old woman who had taken him in when no one would.

  Daisy despaired, contemplating his plight. Memories of her years at the orphanage came back in a rush. A faceless child among dozens of faceless children. The stark longing for love. With another glance at this child, Andy Wendell, her melting attempt to stay strong became a puddle of mush. He’d been through so much already. “Of course you’ll be fine, Andy. You will come to stay with me and Mr. Gallway in Misty Lake.”

  The boy’s face lit up. “Tabs too?”

  “Tabs too,” Daisy assured him.

  “Oh, how kind of you,” Mrs. Rhodes exclaimed. “He’ll be no trouble at all, will you, Andy?”

  Andy shook his head.

  Daisy smiled. She supposed she should have consulted Jackson before extending the invitation. He was her husband, and they shared a home; he had a right to consider who lived in it. But his role as her husband was short-term. After a lifetime of seeking permission from people who’d dictated her decisions, she relished the freedom to do as she pleased. Especially in this instance. Strangely, she felt confi
dent Jackson trusted her judgment. The reassurance that Andy would be safe under their watchful eyes cemented her decision. “You stay here and visit with Mrs. Rhodes for a bit. I’ll go give the happy news to Mr. Gallway.”

  * * * *

  Jackson milled around a bit, making small talk with the group of people outside. Three men sat side by side on the porch railing, the sleeves of their flannel shirts bulging with muscles. Sawmill workers, he presumed, or lumberjacks. Jackson was reminded suddenly of Cuffy, and how they certainly grew them large on the mountain. Daisy’s tap to his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts.

  “May I speak with you for a moment?” she asked.

  “How is she?”

  “She’ll recover. But she’ll be moving to her sister’s home as soon as she’s able.”

  “And Andy?”

  Daisy shook her head. “There’s no room for him there. I’ve offered to take him home with us.” A shadow of apprehension crossed her face. “It’s either that or the orphan asylum, Jax, and I can’t let that happen.”

  He needed only to look into her eyes to understand her reasons. Andy was an orphan like she was, and she wanted to give him a home, if only temporarily. Humbled by her benevolence, he managed a smile. “No, of course you can’t.”

  She smiled too. “How is it going out here? She scanned the assembly of people, which was beginning to wane. “Have you shown them the sketch?”

  “I was just about to.”

  Daisy followed as he meandered to one of the large men perched on the railing. “Curtis, is it?” Jackson asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “My name is Jackson Gallway.” Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the sketch, unfolded it, and held it out. “Do you recognize this man?”

  “Can’t say as I do. Who is he?”

  “He’s a suspect in a case I’m working on. I believe he was around these parts a few months ago.”