was hiding nothing. The years of living by his wits and his sly fingers slid away and he felt like a small child again, helpless and utterly lost.
Arms hugged him tight and Lizzie’s breath was soft against his skin.
‘You have a good cry, love.’ Josh buried his face against her shoulder and let the tears come, tasting their salt in his mouth, while hands stroked his back like the mother he couldn’t remember.
‘Does Frances own another shift?’ she asked.
He didn’t know. Home was just a place he saw when he wasn’t working. Frances kept it warm, had food on the table, a quiet smile on her face and loved him. He gave her his wages. That was all he knew of the place. He shrugged.
‘What about another sheet, then?’ Lizzie said. ‘Do you have one of those?’
He shook his head. Lizzie gently pushed him away and kissed his forehead.
‘Never mind, eh? We’ll make do. I’ve cleaned her up a little, so you just watch her tonight. Josh?’ He raised his eyes to meet hers. ‘If she starts to bleed again or if she seems worse, just come and get us.’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll get the men over to move her first thing,’ Sedgwick told him. ‘Don’t come into work until they’ve been.’
They left, the candle flame swaying wildly in the draught from the door, shadows dancing madly on the walls. He sat on the bed, trying to keep his eyes away from the dark bloom on the sheet, and took Frances’s hand. She was asleep, her breathing low. She seemed fragile and brittle under his touch, as if death still had hold of her other hand.
He loved her. He’d said the words for the first time in his life, and understood what they meant. He’d sit and watch her all night and keep her safe.
Nineteen
Nottingham was pacing the room when Sedgwick arrived. Dawn had barely broken to the east, pale light crackling up from the horizon. He’d lit a fire after he reached the jail, but the warmth hadn’t filled it yet and he’d kept his greatcoat on. His calves were cold, even under wool stockings and heavy boots.
He’d barely slept. Any joy in yesterday’s success had evaporated quickly, leaving only anxiety about Wyatt. All too soon, he knew, there’d be another book coming, another taunt, another threat, another horror. He’d held Mary, her body warm and comforting, the rhythm of her breathing softening as she slipped into rest, but his own thoughts wouldn’t give him peace.
He’d risen early, the chill wind licking at him as he walked into the city. Sounds travelled in the darkness, making him start and grab for the knives. But it was just a dog searching for food, and he felt foolish for his sudden fear. A month earlier he’d have given it no mind.
Sedgwick brought a flurry of freezing air with him. His face was drawn, deep shading under his eyes.
‘Morning, boss.’ He shrugged off his coat and threw it over a chair. ‘I checked the night men. Nothing to report.’
Nottingham nodded.
‘You don’t look well. Bad night?’
‘It’s Josh. His lass lost the baby last night. He came and fetched us.’
‘How’s his girl?’
‘A couple of the men are going to move her to our room so Lizzie can look after her. We told him she’ll be fine, but. .’ He let the words fail. They both knew the truth, that she’d be lucky to survive. He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to her.’
‘How’s Josh?’
‘Cried like a baby that she was still alive.’ Sedgwick sighed sadly. ‘He’s beside himself with fear, boss. I told him not to hurry in this morning.’
Nottingham nodded. ‘I’ll make sure he’s busy. Keep his mind off things.’
‘Anything more on Wyatt?’ the deputy asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Do you think someone could be helping him?’ Sedgwick asked. ‘I was thinking about it last night. After all, we know he’s here somewhere. There has to be some reason we never see him.’
Nottingham considered the question for a moment. ‘Who? He was gone eight years.’
‘Didn’t you said he had a woman when you arrested him?’
The Constable shook his head. ‘That was years ago, John. How would he have kept in touch with her?’
‘He can read and write. Maybe she can too, maybe he sent letters. And we know he’s resourceful,’ Sedgwick insisted. ‘It’s possible.’
Nottingham turned over the idea. There was some reason in Wyatt having an accomplice. It would explain why he seemed invisible. Someone to buy things, even to help dispose of the bodies.
It would answer some questions, but it raised even more. Who would help someone like Wyatt? He’d barely returned to Leeds. How could he have met someone so quickly that he could trust so completely?
It was impossible to believe it could be the woman. Women could be violent, they murdered, he knew that. But what Wyatt was doing went far beyond that. Still. .
‘The idea of someone helping him makes sense,’ he conceded. ‘I should have thought of it.’
‘What about the woman?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied slowly.
‘What was her name?’
‘I don’t know.’ Nottingham gave a small shrug. ‘It was Wyatt we were after, not her.’
The silence rose between them.
It supposed a great deal, but it could possibly be the woman, he was reluctantly forced to admit to himself. All he could recall was that she looked different, darker. But he’d only ever seen her briefly, and that had been over eight years before. If she really had waited for Wyatt she’d certainly have the anger after all this time. But what were the odds?
‘It’s possible,’ he acknowledged finally. Why hadn’t he ever found out about her? Quite simply, because she hadn’t mattered back then. They had the evidence against Wyatt, and they wanted him convicted as quickly as possible. That was all that counted. She hadn’t been important. Then.
‘We can try looking for her,’ he said. ‘The only things I can remember are that her skin wasn’t pale like most people and she had a strange air about her. Foreign, perhaps.’
‘Was she? Foreign?’ Sedgwick asked.
Nottingham pushed the fringe off his forehead. ‘I don’t know, John. I never talked to her. She was nothing. We were just after Wyatt.’
‘There wouldn’t be many here who look like her,’ the deputy suggested. ‘Anyone with darker skin.’
‘That’s true.’
It was so little, but at this point he’d try anything that might bring him to the murderer. And the simple fact was that, unlikely as this was, they had nothing else.
‘Have the men keep their eyes open. If they see someone who might be her, they should just follow from a distance. That was good thinking.’ The deputy grinned in appreciation and started to leave. ‘And John, this doesn’t mean we’re not still watching for Wyatt, too.’
‘I know, boss. I’ll remind them.’
Nottingham walked over to the fire and held out his hands, as if trying to cup the warmth and bring it close. He was proud of his deputy. Sedgwick had come a long way in the last two years. He used his head, he was brave, and in a few more months his reading and writing would be good enough. Then all he’d need to become Constable would be more experience.
Nottingham had waited ten years for the position. He’d served his old master well, spending seven years as Deputy Constable. At first he’d felt the weight of responsibility heavily on his shoulders. He’d wanted to prove himself, to show how much he deserved the position.
