Blake spotted Darcy at the bar a large drink in her hands as she showed off her new fur coat. She was laughing and joking with the people who seemed to throng to her, whether out of admiration for her beauty or for her position with Pierce, he couldn’t tell, but the laughter never reached her eyes. One thing Blake was sure of, there was more to that woman than one could see on the surface.
***
Blake crept through the predawn of a windy day. The city was only just waking, and he scrubbed the sand from his eyes. He’d been up all night watching the frantic activities of people bent on breaking the law. It had been nearly a month already of helping drunken patrons to their cars, quelling arguments, and dumping surly men and women outside if they started to cause trouble for Pierce’s Dog and Bone Saloon.
Today he was reporting to the offices of another important man, one he still wasn’t sure he could trust, but that he needed to meet.
The police commissioner, Rouche, met Blake at the front of the old mission, the hastily written invite from Blake still in his hand. The man looked tired and worry worn, but his dark eyes were bright and full of intelligence, giving the young lawman hope that all would be well.
“You have something to report?” the commissioner asked without preamble. “I’ve received updates from your superiors in Casper, and I’ll take them at their word that you’re a good man and dedicated to the badge.”
“It’s true,” Blake stated flatly, not waiting for more as he made his report. “I’m starting to see just how far the branches of this particular tree spread.” Blake said, as the other man lit a cigar. “The Branson gang has several speakeasies here in town, but there are whispers that they’re planning another bank job. I’m more interested in that than what goes on behind those doors.”
“You think you can get inside?”
“I don’t know,” Blake admitted honestly. “I think Pierce is starting to trust me. He lets me cart his girl around town when she’s bored, and I’ve done several cash deliveries to other locations.”
“Is he the head of the gang?”
“I’m not sure about that, he’s definitely up there, but I don’t think he plans the big jobs. He’s what you might consider a middle man, the one who gets his hands dirty when necessary.” Blake met Rouche’s dark eyes taking in his sagging jowls and unshaven face. “If he’s not at the top, he’s close to whoever manages the show.”
Rouche pushed his bulk from the corner of the building smacking a fist into the palm of his hand and putting Blake on edge. “We’re so close,” the older man growled. “I can almost see it. It would be a big win for everyone if we could pull this bunch down. Too many have already suffered at their hands, good men lost.”
Blake could understand the commissioner’s frustration. “Aren’t you afraid if we get this bunch another one will just spring up?”
Rouche paced up the side walk a few steps then turned back again. “Probably, but all we can do is take on one problem at a time.” He turned his dark eyes on Blake again a hard glint sparking in their depths. “Can you get close to this girl? She may be the key. If she could get the information from Pierce we might know which way to go.”
“That would put her at risk.”
“Risk? Huh, she’s already at risk. What happens if someone else takes Pierce’s fancy. That girl will be out on the street or worse.”
Blake felt an all too familiar shiver run down his spine. He’d seen the tenuous hold Darcy had on Pierce. The girl had all but sold her soul for a few bobbles. “I can’t say I like using Miss Darcy.”
Rouche dropped his hand to Blake’s shoulder. “Son, sooner or later something’s got to give here, and right now, that girl is the weakest link. Use her or someone else will, and they might not care what happens to her in the end.”
Blake pulled in a deep breath and nodded. He knew it was his best lead, but he didn’t like using someone who was obviously vulnerable. Darcy had her own problems, and though she seemed happy to be Pierce’s girl, he could see the hollowness of her soul in the depths of her brown eyes.
As Rouche turned away heading toward a waiting squad car Blake slipped through the back alley and behind the mission to his cousin’s home. If things hadn’t changed too much, he was sure she would already be up making breakfast for her family and at that moment, his heart longed for anything that harkened back to the peace and familiarity of home.
Chapter 7
“Blake!” Mary turned from the stove as Bar led him into the kitchen. “My, my, don’t you look smart,” she teased then pulled back with a sour expression on her face after offering him a hug. “You don’t smell so smart though.”
“Sorry Mary, I’m afraid my new job isn’t in the rosiest location.” He knew the smell of cigarette smoke and liquor clung to his new suit after a long night doing his job.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mary said, dropping her hand to his and giving it a squeeze. “Have you had breakfast? Please join us.”
Blake grinned, his eye lighting with the invitation and his stomach grumbling at the smell of bacon eggs and fresh bread. “How could I say no.”
Barrister chuckled gesturing toward a chair. “You found what you needed I take it,” the man said, his intelligent eyes taking in Blake’s slicked back hair, sharp suit, and expensive boots. “One day you were there at the mission and the next day you had cleared out kit and caboodle.”
“I seem to be on the right track.” Blake said no more on the subject and it was obvious he wouldn’t. He didn’t want his family involve in any of this
