Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Nina
Sweetwater Point Train Station
“Leaving town?” Mayor Kelley asked.
Heat from the train’s engine steamed in the air. A wood and metal canopy over the platform blocked the bright morning sun, creating shade.
“Since I have time on my hands, I thought I’d visit my cousins in Founding.” Nina tucked the broadsheet under her arm. She stood by a stack of luggage: a large steamer trunk, and two valises.
“More hunters? There sure are a lot of you Navarres.”
Behind the mayor stood two deputies, Remi and Hal. Remi looked chagrined, his head down and not meeting Nina’s eyes. Hal was an apathetic boulder on the bustling platform, forcing the crowd to part around him.
An elderly woman swathed in black mourning veils stopped in her tracks as if noticing the orc deputy for the first time and changed direction.
“Marcus and Victor are accountants, actually,” Nina said, her voice cool.
The mayor eyed the pile of luggage. “Seems rather a lot for one person.”
“Mama made quilts. They’re rather bulky.”
“Did she?” He dragged out the question.
“What’s this about?” She directed the question to her deputies.
Remi couldn’t look her in the eyes, which did not bode well.
“Major Pearson is missing,” Hal said.
“How interesting, but as Major Pearson would be too happy to inform you, deserters are a matter for military police, not the sheriff’s office,” she said, turning her attention back to Kelley.
“There was blood found in his barracks,” the mayor said.
“Yes, and?” She looked back toward her deputies, baffled. There were a dozen very plausible reasons for blood to be found in a soldier’s quarters—perhaps he nicked himself while shaving—and none of them involved her.
“We need to search that trunk,” Kelley said.
“Absolutely not,” she said with a pleasant smile on her face.
“You’re obstructing justice now?” Excitement edged into his voice. These baseless accusations were exactly what he wanted and Nina needed to shut it down immediately.
“I’m obstructing nothing,” she said. “Show me the warrant and I’ll unlock the trunk.”
“I don’t need a warrant.”
“I think you do,” she replied, taking a step in front of the luggage.
“I have probable cause,” Mayor Kelley said, all bluster and ego. “You were seen shouting death threats at Major Pearson, that looney aunt of yours swore to get revenge, and now he’s missing!”
“Unbelievable. You think I murdered Pearson and stuffed him in a steamer trunk ?” She checked with her deputies.
Yes. That was exactly what Kelley thought.
She sat down on the trunk, her back straight and her ankle primly crossed. “Warrant.”
“It’s suspicious that Major Pearson is missing and you’re fleeing town,” Kelley said, voice rising to be heard above the noise of the train engine.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, shouting back. “You wanted me on holiday. I’ve been led to believe that people travel on holidays. Thus—” She thumped the trunk for emphasis.
“What are you hiding, Sheriff?”
“You overstep your power as mayor. Warrant. I’m happy to wait. Best of luck finding a judge to sign off on it.”
A porter blew a whistle, giving a warning to board soon. She did not break her gaze from Kelley’s. If he thought he could intimidate her with a little bit of bluster, fling about some legal terms he knew nothing about, and baseless accusations, he was dead wrong. She wasn’t the kind to scare away.
“Sheriff, you don’t want to miss your train,” Hal said, breaking the tension.
True. She had a long journey and couldn’t afford to lose a day because Mayor Kelley was playing power games.
“Very well.” She grabbed the two valises and stepped away. “Don’t get the quilts dirty?—”
Remi tipped the trunk over and dumped the contents onto the ground. A quilt, two chunky sweaters, mittens, and assorted knit hats slipped forth. Remi shook out the quilt, the patchwork a mishmash of blue fabric scraps.
When contraband failed to fall out, Mayor Kelley sputtered and spat just like a boiling kettle.
“Impossible,” he said, kicking the pile of sweaters and knit hats. “Where is he?”
Nina shrugged her shoulders. “Mister Mayor, if I were going to dispose of a body, I’d take it to a hog farm, not this convoluted scheme.”
A whistle sounded again and the train issued a cloud of steam.
Nina grabbed her two cases, tossing them into the train, and jumped on the steps.
Holding onto the railing, she issued her final orders as the train slowly started to crawl forward.
“Remi, you will have that laundered and returned to my mother. Hal, if the mayor wants to play at being a cop, be sure he doesn’t violate any civil liberties. No one wants a lawsuit!”
Steam completely obscured the trio as the train pulled away from the station.
Pearson was missing. How intriguing.
She gave her ticket to a porter and was directed to a private carriage. It was not empty. An elderly woman in a black veil tapped her foot impatiently.
“You enjoyed that,” Pearson said, pushing back the veils.
Anthony
“I did.” Nina stowed the luggage and took the open seat. “I am annoyed about the quilt. Now it’ll have to be shipped and the expense is dear.”
“Send the mayor the bill.”
Anthony picked at the black silk gloves, ready to shed his disguise.
“Don’t,” Nina cautioned.
“The lace itches.” His ego was not so fragile that he felt humiliation at wearing the costume.
It was uncomfortable and the many layers of fabric unbearably warm.
He fought the urge to scratch at the bindings around his arms and calves that flattened his fins.
Worse, the binding around his chest to keep the massive fin along his spine unnoticeable made him feel as if he were suffocating.
When Nina had initially suggested dressing as an old woman, he assumed it to be a joke.
Alas, no. It was a sad truth that elderly women vanished from public perception.
Nina argued that no one would remark upon a woman dressed in an old-fashioned manner, face covered with a thick mourning veil, and she had been correct.
Anthony drifted through the crowd as if invisible.
“And you reek of mothballs. It’s a delightful experience for us all,” she replied.
“There had to be another way onto the train,” he said, blowing a puff of air, sending the veil upward. It floated down slowly. “I’m not a fugitive.”
“You are missing, though.” She smirked.
“Preposterous. The mayor was bluffing. I left a note indicating that I would spend my leave with my family.”
“And presumed dead.”
“Presumed murdered by you . The situation is not nearly as amusing as you apparently find it.”
“Oh, I’m not amused. I’m furious.” She opened the newspaper with a shake.
Anthony waited for further explanation. Nina had never been one to abstain from expressing her thoughts. Before she could elaborate, the conductor came to collect their tickets.
Nina read the paper, spectacles perched on her nose. As if sensing him watching her, she looked up. “What?”
“You wear spectacles.”
“For reading. It’s quite common,” she said, tone shifting to defensive.
“Please, do not misunderstand me. They complement your face.”
She huffed, as if reluctantly accepting his praise, and returned her attention to the paper.
Anthony watched the scenery roll by. He had never ridden in first class or a private compartment before. All his previous trips had been on a plain wooden bench in third class, his bones rattling from the rough vibrations.
The private compartment was lush. The benches were covered in a thick velvet with deep cushions. While he heard the vibrations of the train clattering along and felt it through his boots, he could not feel it in his posterior.
How refreshing.
Curtains of matching green velvet frame the external window.
The internal window had a similar curtain, currently drawn to offer privacy.
A small table sat under the window, with a placard advertising the luncheon service.
The journey to Founding was six hours but it would fly by in such accommodations.
Very luxurious. Very expensive. They could have made do in second or third class.
They did not need a private compartment, yet Nina had purchased two tickets without hesitation.
He had always suspected that she had more funds than she let on.
Polite society considered it quite gauche to discuss such financial matters and Nina had never hesitated to complain about budgets, the price of coffee and good boots, or the expense of maintaining her grand home.
Her disregard for polite society’s conventions was one of the things he liked best about her.
Thankfully, Nina kicked his ankle before his thoughts could grow too sentimental.
“Excuse you,” he snapped.
“Please be aware of the space you occupy,” she said. “Sit like a lady, not a soldier on leave. Put your knees together.”
He was a soldier on leave, but he understood her reasoning. The conductor could return and it would not do to have the grieving widow sitting in such an unrefined manner.
He sat with his back straighter and planted both feet on the ground, knees together. “Does this meet your approval?”
Her gaze swept over him. “I daresay you’ll do.”
Damning with faint praise.
“I have something to say.” Best to do it now while he had his courage. “I apologize for misleading you about Jollett.”
Nina folded the paper, sitting it on the bench beside her. “Don’t try to excuse your behavior by telling me his survival was classified or blame your superiors.”
“Even if it was classified, I owed you a moral obligation to inform. I did not and I apologize. Discovering him as you did reopened old wounds for you and your family and I am sorry for the pain that my actions caused.”
She regarded him coolly. After a long moment, she said, “Accepted.”
“That’s it?” That was far too easy.
“You want melodramatics? Some wailing and scratching out your eyes?”
“I’d rather skip all that.”
“As do I. You apologized. It sounded sincere. I accept,” she said, her tone making it clear that the matter was closed for discussion.
“What was that with the mayor?” He pushed back the veil, grateful for the bit of cooling air.
“One moment.” She rummaged through the inner pockets of her greatcoat and produced a pair of spectacles with smoke-tinted lenses. “To hide your eyes.”
He accepted the spectacles with thanks.
“To answer your question, Mayor Kelley does not like me,” she said.
“With your delightful personality? Impossible.”
She leveled a cold and sharp glare at him. Perhaps it was the lush surroundings, the soft morning light, or their proximity, but she had never been more lovely.
“I’m serious. He dislikes that I was appointed by the previous administration.
I know he wants someone more pliable and willing to do his bidding,” she said with a sigh.
She folded the paper and rolled it, as if her hands needed to be occupied while she spoke.
“I believe it is purely political and not personal. If I were a little more business-minded , willing to let certain things slide, we’d get along fine.
Alas, I will not debase my office by giving preferential treatment to the right people. ”
“He wants you to take bribes?” It was unimaginable. Sheriff Navarre was unbending when it came to upholding the law. They had clashed about it several times.
“He’s never said directly, but I expect he wants a little bit of corruption, something to give him leverage.
” She sighed, a wearing sound that made him ache.
“He finds fault with all my decisions and your stunt with Jollett gave him the excuse he needed to push me out of office. At least for a while. He’s calling it a holiday, but I know he’s searching for a way to remove me permanently. ”
A rumble filled the compartment, the vibration reverberating in his chest. A growl, primal and from a possessive place. Nina’s eyes widened, as if in alarm. Too slowly, he realized the source of the growl was him.
Nina swatted him on the nose with the rolled newspaper. “Stop that at once.”
“Blast it all, woman, what’d you do that for?” He rubbed his nose even as his eyes watered.
“That sounds like a bond,” she said. “Is it a bond?”
“I’m expressing sympathy.”
“Sympathy does not growl.”
“No bond, just a socially acceptable amount of regard for your wellbeing and sympathy over Mayor Kelley’s machinations.”
She looked unconvinced but nodded. “See that it stays that way.”
Four days to Saltwick. He and Nina cobbled together a travel itinerary based on out-of-date schedules and maps. The train to Founding, a passenger boat to the north, and then a carriage for the final leg of the journey.
He would not wear the mourning garb a moment longer than necessary.
He was not a fugitive—he was on medical leave, after all.
However, he did not want the attention his condition would draw.
Scarves, a hood, and gloves would do. The weather would grow colder, and no one would think the items were unusual.
Four days there. Four days back. That left four days to convince his family to share the cure with him.
“Does your family know to expect you?” Nina asked.
“No. I left when I was eighteen and have never returned.”
“Should we send a missive and warn them?”
“No. It’s better that we turn up uninvited,” he said.
“It’s your home. You don’t need an invitation to go home.”
With his family, he did.
Twelve days for their journey. Twelve days for him to resist the urge to bond Nina to him, to claim her, and make her the anchor that kept him tethered to his humanity. Every part of him wanted her. Had always wanted her.
Twelve days. It’d be difficult, but he had no choice.
Twelve days and he’d be human again.