The sound of shattering glass could be heard in the distance, followed by men shouting at one another.
Lincoln placed his hands on the windowsill and sighed. “Frankly, I feel like I’m walking in a haze, and I’m lost.”
Amey rose from the sofa and walked over to him. “It’s all right to feel that way, Lincoln. But I believe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
She gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re making a real difference as a Pinkerton agent. You’re saving lives and stopping the bad guys.”
Lincoln’s eyes were imploring as he asked, “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, confused.
“Get me to confide in you.” He pushed away from the windowsill and turned to face her. “I haven’t shared my story with anyone since I left the war.”
“You seem to have a similar effect on me, as well,” she admitted.
Lincoln cocked his head. “Perhaps you’re a witch.”
She laughed at his unexpected remark. “I am no witch, sir.”
He grew solemn before saying, “I’m sorry I doubted your ability to protect yourself. I won’t make that mistake again.”
She smiled at that small victory. “Thank you, Lincoln.”
He took a step closer to her. “I like hearing my name on your lips,” he said softly.
Amey’s breath hitched at the look of longing in his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, she thought about taking a step closer to him. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. This marriage wasn’t real, and she refused to complicate their situation by kissing him.
Taking a step back, she saw disappointment flash in his eyes. “I’m famished,” she said when she finally found her voice. “I’m going to see if the dining room is serving supper yet. Would you care to join me?”
“I would, but I need a moment alone,” he stated, his eyes still intently watching her. “I still have to change out of my wet clothes.”
Amey started walking backwards toward the door. “All right. I’ll go and claim a table for us.”
Once she reached the door, she grabbed the handle and turned it. She had an overwhelming desire to run away from Lincoln. If she stayed any longer, she was afraid that she’d make a fool of herself by running into his arms.
7
Lincoln waited until Amey closed the door before he dropped down onto the bed. What had he been thinking? He’d almost kissed her. His partner. To make matters worse, he realized that he was in trouble. He’d started developing feelings for his wife.
Real feelings.
That would never do. He couldn’t fall for his wife. It could jeopardize the whole mission. Why did Amey have to be so blasted beautiful, on the inside and out? He found himself drawn to her, as if he’d known her for years. But he’d only known her for two days.
He sighed as he rose from the bed. He needed to suppress his feelings, because once this case was over, they would go their separate ways. Which is what he wanted. He didn’t want to be tied down to a wife. Besides, he wasn’t worthy of a wife, especially not someone like Amey. She was good and kind and he was… not. He needed to ensure he kept things professional between them.
With his mind made up, Lincoln quickly changed before he headed down to the dining room. He didn’t want to keep Amey waiting for too long. He saw that she was sitting next to the window, staring out into the night.
He approached the table and pulled out a chair. “What’s for supper?”
She turned to face him and smiled, transforming her entire face. “You have a choice between the beef stew or steak.”
“Those are two mighty good options.”
“I thought so, as well.”
A waitress with blonde hair tied at the base of her neck approached their table. “My name is Mary, and I’ll be your waitress tonight. What can I get for you?” she asked with a smile.
“I’d like the beef stew,” Amey answered.
Lincoln shifted in his seat. “Steak for me.”
“Coming right up,” Mary stated before she turned to leave.
After the waitress walked away, Amey leaned forward in her seat and said, “We need to search those woods again tomorrow.”
“I agree.”
She blew out a puff of air. “We don’t have much to go on yet. We have no suspects, no clues, and our only lead is the fabric that Doris purchased at the general store.”
“Something will turn up tomorrow,” he replied optimistically.
She eyed him suspiciously. “You are being surprisingly positive.”
He chuckled. “I guess you bring out that side of me.”
Amey grinned in response. “I’m glad. I find this side of you is much more fun to talk to.”
“Really? Why is that?” he asked, deciding to play along.
Before Amey could respond, Mrs. Willow walked up to the table with a deep frown on her aged face.
Lincoln rose from his seat respectfully and asked, “Is everything all right?”
“I was hoping to speak to you about something,” the proprietress said.
“Of course,” Lincoln replied, pointing toward a chair. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Willow murmured as she pulled out the chair. “I’ve been debating all day about speaking to you about this.”
“What’s troubling you?” Amey inquired.
Mrs. Willow glanced around the room before she brought her gaze back to Amey. “It’s about Jacob Tiner.”
Lincoln sat down and asked, “What about Jacob Tiner?”
In a hushed voice, Mrs. Willow shared, “I saw you speaking to him this morning, and I know you went out to visit him at his cattle ranch. But I thought you should be aware that he murdered his wife.”
Amey gasped, feigning surprise. “He did?”
Mrs. Willow nodded. “About three weeks ago, Doris’s body was found in the woods near their home.”
“If Mr. Tiner killed his wife, then why hasn’t the sheriff arrested him?” Lincoln asked.
“Because Mr. Tiner is clever,” Mrs. Willow said, “and he covered his tracks nicely.”
Amey leaned closer to Mrs. Willow and asked in a low voice, “Why do you think Mr. Tiner killed his wife?”
“Who else
