A Fragile Design (43 page)
John stood near the bottom of the stairway, ready to leave for the mill. ‘‘You’re looking none too chipper this morning.’’
‘‘I didn’t sleep well.’’
‘‘That much is obvious. I’m wondering what caused your insomnia,’’ John remarked as he pulled open the door, a smile playing on his lips. ‘‘Surely not problems with young Bella.’’
Taylor began recounting the evening’s events as the men walked down the front steps. They had walked only a short distance when they turned toward the frantic sound of a young woman calling out their names.
Daughtie skidded to an abrupt halt only inches before plowing into Taylor’s broad chest. Her eyes were panic-filled as she called out, ‘‘Where’s Bella?’’
‘‘No need to scream, Daughtie. I’m right here.’’ He gave her a guarded smile. ‘‘I haven’t seen Bella since last night.’’
Daughtie grasped his arm, her fingers penetrating the thick wool of his jacket and digging into his flesh with a death grip. ‘‘She never came home!’’
His terror merged with a surging panic before it actually plunged Daughtie’s words into the depths of his consciousness. A choked guttural cry escaped his lips.
Taking hold of Taylor’s shoulder, John said, ‘‘Calm yourself, boy! You’ve got to remain calm. Now tell me, when did you last see Bella?’’
Moments passed before Taylor could quiet his jumbled thoughts. Finally he composed himself enough to speak coherently. ‘‘That’s what I was beginning to tell you. I thought she was going to wait for me to escort her home after my second meeting, but she had already gone when we adjourned for the night. It was close to ten o’clock—she was angry with me. I thought she went home. Dear God in heaven, what have I done?’’ His mind reeled with possibilities. He turned and grasped John by the shoulders. ‘‘What if she’s been abducted like those other girls?’’
‘‘Come on,’’ John commanded. ‘‘We’ll get over to the Appleton. Matthew can surely be of assistance. You’ve got to keep a level head, Taylor. Anything you can remember will surely help. Come along, Daughtie. Your supervisor won’t excuse you if you’re tardy.’’
The three of them rushed off toward the mill with Taylor taking the lead and Daughtie and John close on his heels. As they neared the mill yard, Daughtie grasped John’s arm and begged him to send word of any news. When he had agreed, she bid the men farewell and scurried toward the stairwell.
Taylor spotted Lawrence Gault standing near the counting-house as they grew nearer and waved to the older gentleman. ‘‘Is Mr. Cheever in his office?’’
‘‘He is, but—’’
‘‘Good!’’ Taylor shouted in return, not waiting for any further information before bursting into Matthew Cheever’s office. His mouth fell open at the sight. The outer room was already filled with several mill girls and Liam Donohue, and Miss Addie was sitting opposite Matthew’s desk. Mr. Cheever’s full attention was directed toward the older woman, but Taylor was undaunted by the sight. He strode past the others waiting in the outer office and into Matthew’s office while saying, ‘‘I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.’’
Matthew looked up as Taylor neared the desk. ‘‘Taylor, I’m—’’
Miss Addie turned in her chair. ‘‘Oh, Taylor, I’m glad you’re here. Where is Bella?’’
‘‘I don’t know. That’s why we’ve come. We need to organize a search party, and Uncle John thought this would be the place to get folks organized.’’
‘‘Oh, John, this is terribly frightening,’’ Addie said, rising from her chair. ‘‘I fear something dreadful has happened.’’
‘‘Why don’t you go on back home, Addie? You’ve done everything you can,’’ John suggested. He took her arm and led her toward the door. ‘‘I’ll keep you apprised of any news.’’
‘‘Ask Liam to step in, would you, John?’’ Matthew requested.
Taylor turned his attention to Matthew. ‘‘What’s Mr. Donohue got to do with Bella’s disappearance? Do you think the Irish are involved in these abductions?’’
‘‘No, but Liam has furnished me with some helpful information regarding the abductions—or at least we’re hoping it’s going to be helpful,’’ Matthew explained before turning his attention to Liam. ‘‘I’m sure you’ve heard enough of our conversation to realize we have another missing girl. I think we should get down to the canal. The locks begin operating at daybreak, and if they’re going to attempt transporting the girls to Boston, we’ll want to search any suspicious-looking boats or cargo.’’
John cleared his throat rather loudly. ‘‘I don’t mean to be a spoiler, Matthew, but don’t you think this is something the police should be called in on?’’
‘‘Absolutely. In fact, I’ve talked with them at some length, and they’re aware of our concerns. However, since there are only two of them, it’s impossible for them to lend much assistance. They requested our help at the waterway. I’ll explain more fully if you like, but we’d best get down to the docks. Any of you on horseback?’’
Liam gave a hearty laugh. ‘‘I don’t think anyone in the Acre owns a horse.’’
‘‘We’re afoot, also. Taylor can fetch my horses from the livery if you think we’ll need them,’’ John offered. ‘‘It won’t take long.’’
Matthew shook his head back and forth. ‘‘No. My horse is tied out back, so I’ll ride ahead. The rest of you follow as quickly as possible,’’ he said before moving to the outer office, where two girls still sat waiting. ‘‘Unless you have a missing person to report, you’ll need to return later in the day. We’ve an emergency to tend to right now,’’ Matthew told the mill girls as he opened the front door. He turned back toward the men. ‘‘I’ll meet you near the loading dock by the millpond. It will probably take all four of us to inspect the boats preparing for departure.’’
Taylor was filled with a sense of mounting distress as they hurried off toward the wharf. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath. If he was going to find Bella, he needed clarity of thought, he decided as they finally approached the millpond. Without warning, he put voice to unbidden words that had mysteriously exploded in his mind. ‘‘I think we should pray.’’
The other three men stopped, turned, and stared at him as though he’d spoken in some unknown tongue.
He wondered if his words had been offensive. When none of them replied, he hastened to add, ‘‘If that would be all right with you.’’ John reached out and placed an arm around Taylor’s shoulder. ‘‘You make me ashamed of myself, Taylor. I should have suggested prayer immediately. Yet it gives me great pleasure to know that you are beginning to place your trust in God rather than man. Gentlemen?’’
Taylor silently communicated his own prayer for Bella as his uncle prayed aloud. The supplication took only a minute—it was a simple plea for help—yet Taylor felt more at peace. Bella’s faith was strong, and surely she must be praying, too. Perhaps with the unification of their utterances, God would pause and assist them. A childish thought, perhaps, but it gave him added hope. He momentarily considered bartering with God but then decided God might frown upon such a concept. Bella would have an opinion on that idea. He’d discuss it with her once she was safely home.
‘‘Taylor, you can go ahead and search this boat. Liam, you take that one,’’ Matthew ordered while pointing where they were to go. ‘‘I’m going to talk to George West. He’s in charge of the canal and locks this morning.’’
‘‘Whadd’ya think you’re doing? Get off this boat,’’ a rough-looking man hollered as Taylor jumped aboard his boat.
‘‘Nothing to be concerned about. We have permission to search all boats carrying cargo or passengers to Boston.’’
The man ran a dirty hand through his greasy unkempt hair before arching a stream of tobacco juice into the air that landed directly on Taylor’s right shoe. ‘‘Since when?’’
The other man working on the boat gave a snort.
Taylor looked down at his foot in disgust. Rolling his hand into a fist, he used his thumb to point toward Mr. West. ‘‘If you’ve got a problem, take it up with the man in charge. He says we’ve got permission, and so do the police. Now, you want to get out of my way? ’Cause if you don’t, I’m going to guess it’s because you’ve got something on this boat that ought not be here and you figure I’m going to find it. Could that be the problem, mister?’’
‘‘You talk mighty big. We’ll see how big you are when you’re alone in town someday.’’
Taylor knew the threat was intended to intimidate him, but it served only to make him angrier than he already was. ‘‘Why wait? You think you’re man enough to take me on, then let’s get to it.’’
‘‘Taylor! We’re not here for pugilistic entertainment,’’ John called out. ‘‘Get busy and search that cargo. There are three more boats already loaded.’’
His uncle was right. They couldn’t afford to waste time. Bella’s life could be at risk, and he was acting like a schoolboy who needed to impress the other children in the play yard. He turned away from the man and began moving among the crates and barrels, moving them about and prying off lids while the two men spat curses in his direction.
The second man was following Taylor closely, hammering lids back down where needed and attempting to direct his path, or so it seemed to Taylor. Finally the man appeared to have lost all patience. ‘‘Look here, mate, you’ve gone through everything and found nothing out of order. Now get off the boat and let us be on our way.’’
Taylor surveyed the boat and glanced toward the center of the boat, where the one mast stood ready to hoist a sail when needed. ‘‘I’ve not gone through the goods stowed over there by your sail.’’
‘‘Ain’t nothing but some of the same what you’ve already seen.’’
Taylor gave the man an unswerving stare. ‘‘Then you’ve got nothing to be concerned about. The quicker we get done, the quicker you can be on your way,’’ he said while tugging to move the deflated canvas sail.
Just then the first man rushed toward him. ‘‘Hey! Don’t mess with that sail!’’ the man commanded as he shoved Taylor off balance, causing him to fall backward. He landed heavily on a row of rolled-up carpets, immediately thankful it hadn’t been the pitchforks he’d found a short time earlier. He slowly began to lift himself up, then shook his head in wonder as two of the carpets appeared to wriggle back and forth.
‘‘Seems to be a bit of turbulence in the water. Things is jostling about.’’
Taylor stared up at the man. ‘‘We’re sitting dead still in a millpond. The only turbulence is right here in these carpets.’’ He began to tug the edge of one of the rugs and heard a muffled noise.
‘‘Uncle John! Over here!’’
The scruffy boatman yanked at Taylor’s arm. ‘‘Get away from there! You’ve got no right.’’
Taylor pulled free and yanked at the carpet. He saw two feet and then rope-bound ankles. Bella! It must be her. He looked up at his uncle, who was holding one of the men at bay while Liam held on to the other. Matthew rushed forward to help him. A torso appeared and then two bound arms—and then a face. But it wasn’t Bella’s face.
Working feverishly, they loosened the gag around the girl’s head and then unbound her arms and legs. She flung about like a fish let loose on dry ground. ‘‘And for sure, I thought I was gonna die.’’ The words spurted out in short gasps. ‘‘I could barely breathe with that carpet rolled about me.’’ Her red hair flew about wildly as she lunged toward one of her abductors.
Matthew and Taylor let the other two men contend with the Irish girl and her temper. They unfurled carpet after carpet. They had now released seven girls, each one gasping for air and flailing for freedom as her bindings were loosed. Taylor stared down at the last roll of carpet.
Please, God, let it be Bella,
he silently prayed.
The two men tugged on the edge of the rug until they saw evidence of one more girl, whose feet and wrists were bound just as they had seen with the others. But this time the girl didn’t shout with relief when her gag was loosened; this time the girl didn’t flail about or jump to her feet. This time the girl lay perfectly still; this time the girl was Bella.
This time Taylor screamed in agony.
Lilly Cheever grasped the fullness of her skirts, lifting the hem from the muck that lined the narrow winding path. She took careful steps, attempting to secure her footing in the slimy mess. Her walking boots were already covered with filth, and now a wiry-haired dog was yapping and nipping at her skirts as it circled her at a dizzying pace. Unfortunately, her attempts to shoo away the dog had only caused the animal to bark more incessantly.
A stooped old woman with a tattered shawl wrapped around her bent shoulders hoisted a bucketful of waste into the street, barely missing Lilly as she passed by. ‘‘What ya doin’ in this part o’ town?’’ The woman’s voice was laced with a heavy Irish brogue. Piercing blue eyes that seemed strangely out of place were set deep in the ancient leathery face that had been marked with the countless creases of a hard life.
Lilly stopped and turned to face the woman, feeling out of place in her fur-collared mantle and morning dress of floral challis. ‘‘I’m looking for Noreen Gallagher’s home. I was told it was down this path to the left. Is that correct?’’ She gave the woman a gentle smile. ‘‘I’d be willing to pay for the information.’’
The woman’s eyes seemed to cut to her soul as she appraised Lilly for a moment before answering. ‘‘Hold to the left at the fork. Third door on the right,’’ she replied and then held out her withered hand for payment.
Lilly dug into her lozenge-shaped velvet reticule and pulled out a coin. The woman’s eyes brightened at the sight of the money as Lilly placed it in her hand. She clasped her bony fingers around the coin and then quickly disappeared behind her door as though she feared Lilly would snatch the money away from her.
The fork in the road was only a short distance away, and the mangy dog had now departed to chase after a wandering chicken rather than her skirts. She continued onward, picking her way through the litter-strewn pathway until she stood in front of Noreen Gallagher’s door.
What kind of reception awaits me behind that dilapidated door?
she wondered. Fear would win if she remained there any longer.
She knocked—three firm raps—and waited. The door scraped open, the bottom of the board digging into the dirt floor before revealing an unkempt woman with matted hair and yellowed broken teeth. ‘‘Noreen Gallagher?’’ Lilly ventured.