That was the closest to an apology Fred would get. Even though the man couldn’t see him in the night-darkened alley, Fred caught himself nodding a response. That made no sense, but it gave him time to organize his thoughts.
Clearing his throat quietly, he spoke. “So, you were hired to follow another girl?”
“Miss Charity Melrose.” The low, gravelly voice sounded pained.
Pushing for details, Fred made a guess. “Not just another case this time, is it?”
The tight, strained tone allowed Fred to glimpse the importance of the girl to the man. “No, this one is my niece.”
Not bothering with a useless expression of sympathy, the sheriff suggested a plan. “I have one deputy I trust, and he was supposed to watch the depot yesterday. Let’s check with him.”
Fred moved down the alley and out to a row of houses that backed up against the town’s main street. In the dark, the click of Morrison’s boots behind him sounded eerie. Even though Fred wanted him to follow, the silent darkness gave the sound a sinister quality. Friday had definitely been too rough on Fred if his mind cringed at a colleague’s footsteps.
Moving to a small house at the end of the row, he avoided the front door and moved around to a side entrance. Tapping lightly, he waited for Morrison to join him. The man stayed in the shadow of a nearby oak tree.
Cully answered after the tenth knock, already dressed in his nightshirt. Recognizing the sheriff, he groaned. “No, don’t tell me you need me.”
Shrugging, Fred frowned. “Maybe. Did you see a girl come in yesterday on the train?”
From the darkness, Morrison whispered loudly, and Cully startled at the unexpected sound. “Black, curly hair and dressed in a violet traveling suit.”
Cully peered beyond Fred, trying to see who hid in the shadows. At the sound of Fred clearing his throat, he focused on his boss again.
“Yeah, a girl answering that description did arrive.”
That surprised Fred. Cully typically reported any new arrivals to him. He struggled to keep his tone neutral, hiding his anger. “Where’d you take her?”
He must not have done a good enough job concealing his emotion. Cully flinched before shrinking back a step into the lantern-lit room behind him.
“Hansen was already there with the girl. Told me she’d come to see him and not to tell his business to anyone in town.” Cully snorted. “As if I’d gossip like an old woman.”
Fred’s mind worked frantically to put clues into place. So Hansen was involved somehow with the white slavers. He didn’t strike Fred as the type of mind that could plan it, though.
“Okay, you don’t gossip. But, this is a crime so I need you to report where he took her.” Fred worded his command carefully. Cully was loyal and, if he thought of Hansen as a friend, he’d need to be ordered to say what he knew.
Cully scratched his head. “I can’t tell you where he took her. But, I know how they left the depot.”
Odd, but it was the only clue so Fred pushed for an answer. “Fine. How did they leave?”
The deputy’s mouth turned downward. “It was strange. They got into Mr. Strong’s buggy.”
The information didn’t make sense. With what Fred had observed, he’d dismissed the banker as a possible leader of the white slavers. Cully’s revelation echoed in his mind while he considered what he’d recently observed about Strong.
With very little regret, he ordered the deputy to get dressed. While waiting for him, Fred and Morrison stood in the shadow of the oak. He wished he had a suggestion for the detective, but no active brothel came to mind. With the recent Katherine Bushnell law, named for the woman who campaigned so strongly for its passage, forcing unmarried women into sexual acts had become illegal, at least in Wisconsin. That closed most of the cathouses near the lumber camps.
Or maybe they’d just hidden their activities. A possibility came to mind.
His hissed words in the quiet night rang loudly, and Fred softened his tone as he shared his plan. “Seems to me that someone will have heard about a place to go for their, uh, good time. We’d better send the deputy into the tavern to question a few men who would know.”
Though almost hidden in the darkness, Fred saw Morrison’s scowl. He waited to hear what the man was thinking. It didn’t take long for the detective to tell him.
“I’m wanting to have a look in Hansen’s house. Maybe he’s keeping my niece there.”
The note of desperation that escaped with those words surprised Fred. Something more than an innocent woman’s kidnapping was happening here. He’d be jiggered before he moved an inch without knowing the whole story.
“It’s true that Hansen hasn’t been missing from town so he can’t have left to take her anywhere. But, he lives in a boarding house, and he can’t be keeping your niece there.”
In the silence that followed, Fred formed his question. In the end, his words slipped out like an accusation.
Anger flavored his quiet hiss. “You haven’t told me everything. I know that.”
When the other man stood mute, Fred reached his own logical conclusions. “Okay, so let me take a wild guess knowing the Pinkerton Agency like I do.”
Morrison snorted cynically. The sound didn’t stop Fred from laying out a possible reason for the girl’s arrival in Idyll Wood.
“She’s a young agent, recently joining the Pinkertons.” When Morrison didn’t declare him wrong, Fred went on in a low whisper. “She and her partner were meant to arrive on the same train, though not appearing to be together. Somehow, they were separated. The partner can’t find her and sent a telegram that brought you here.”
Rather than another dismissive snort, Morrison gave a long, tired-sounding sigh. “She had been coached and was
