The Stranger's Secrets Read online

  She didn’t know if half of what she said was true, but it sure sounded good.

  “He’s an investigator? That is something. I’m not sure I’ve met anyone from New York City before. Most trains depart right out of that Northern metropolis. I’ve been working the southern route all my career.” A wistful expression came over Alfred’s face. “I’ve always wanted to try that northern route. It sounds glamorous.”

  Sarah had no idea what to make of the conductor’s wish to be on the northern route of the railroad. His gaze had gone far away, leaving her to wonder what the hell he was dreaming about. Not that she really wanted to know.

  “I’m sure it is. Now, may I ask one more favor of you, Alfred? I’d like to see the passenger manifest.” She took a sip of tea while he digested her request. “I’m certain that man Mavis had met is the one who did her harm.”

  “Really? I thought perhaps you were looking for someone to blame the murder on.” He slapped his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Of course you did, and that’s all right. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, don’t you think?” Her smile was growing tired, as was her patience. “Now, the passenger manifest will help me determine who that man was. I think perhaps his name wasn’t even Abernathy.”

  Alfred’s eyes widened. “You believe he traveled under a false name?”

  Sarah jumped on the idea as it blossomed in her mind. “Yes, I surely do. I think the man knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he even searches out spinsters or widows and charms them, and robs them.”

  “That would be a horrible thing to do.” Alfred looked truly shocked.

  Too bad the idea didn’t even remotely shock Sarah. She’d become immune to the evils that men do.

  “Absolutely despicable. Yet, the more I think of it, the more I believe I’m on the right track.” Her annoyance at Alfred forgotten, Sarah focused on finding Abernathy. “He probably tried to rob Mavis, but she was as stubborn as a mule and probably refused to give her bag to him.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Yes, you’re right, oh my.” Sarah shook her head and gulped down the rest of her tea. “Alfred, if you help me, you will be a hero and receive praise from the railroad for catching a killer. Maybe even get a northern route.”

  His face shone with pride at the notion. Sarah felt a little bad for manipulating his dreams, but hell, her life was on the line. They hung people for murder.

  “Will you help me?”

  He straightened his vest. “Yes, I will, Sarah. Now let’s get that investigator husband of yours and get to work.”

  Sarah wanted to raise her fist and shout yes, but instead she gushed her gratitude. “Thank you so much, Alfred. You can’t know what this means to me.” She pushed her chair back. “Now let’s go.”

  They’d ended up at the Purple Posy to talk. Whit almost grilled the boy. “You saw the man then, the one in the bow tie?” Whitman shifted the stool beneath him. “You’re certain?”

  Lorenzo nodded, twirling the empty sarsaparilla glass with his left hand. “Oh yes, I saw everything. He had a bowler hat, graying temples, and a brown suit with a polka-dot bow tie. He and Mavis were together almost every moment.”

  Whitman knew they were getting close to the truth, and for some reason, this young man had appeared to help them with that truth. Of course, according to Lorenzo, if Sarah found out he was there, she’d probably tan his hide.

  That made Whit wonder exactly what their relationship was. Obviously Sarah was at least ten years older than the boy and had a great deal more experience.

  Inside Whit, a green-eyed monster reared its ugly head and snarled.

  Dammit to hell.

  He didn’t want to be jealous, not even a little bit, but apparently his heart had other ideas.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel. I want to talk to Sarah.”

  Lorenzo grabbed his arm. “No, please, Mr. Kendrick, she cannot know I’m here.”

  “Look, this isn’t a game where you play hide-and-seek with your friends. If you want to help us—help Sarah—then you’re going to have to stop this sneaking around.”

  Whitman stood up and looked down at the boy’s desperate expression. “You tell me you are her friend, then act like one.” He walked away, firmly expecting the boy to follow.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  Sarah walked Alfred back to her room to look for Whitman. She hoped the conductor didn’t assume there was anything romantic or inappropriate about it. God knew she didn’t need any more accusations leveled at her.

  She opened the door and dropped her cane. Shock held her immobile as she saw two figures standing in the room. Alfred bumped into her back, nearly knocking her over.

  “Sarah, what’s the matter?” he asked.

  She stared in disbelief at Whitman and Lorenzo. Her voice refused to work, probably because her throat had closed up.

  Lorenzo squeezed his hat in his hands and kept his gaze on Sarah. The longing in his chocolate eyes was obvious to everyone around her, complicating the situation even more.

  “What’s going on?” She could hardly believe her eyes. What in the world was Lorenzo doing in Kentucky? In her hotel room with her supposed husband?

  Her plan for proving herself innocent fell just as far as her heart. Lorenzo would expose the ruse of her marriage. There was no way Sheriff Miller or Alfred would believe a word she said.

  “Who is that?” Alfred stepped around her, eyeing Lorenzo. “I remember him from the train. He was seated in the public car.”

  He’d been on the train? Sarah could hardly swallow that information. Lorenzo had followed her all the way from Virginia? Did he think she couldn’t take care of herself? Disappointment, anger, and fear mixed together inside her gut and made her want to vomit.

  “Whitman, what’s happening?” She focused on his green eyes, hoping to find something to hang on to, a kernel of hope.

  “This is Lorenzo Torreno. He’s come to help us.” He gestured to Lorenzo. “Apparently he saw the man we knew as Abernathy and he wants to help us catch the real killer.”

  Deep in Whitman’s gaze, she saw what she needed. He told her without words that he knew who Lorenzo was, and why he was there. Yet his neck was in jeopardy too, and the young man’s assistance could clear both of them of a murder charge.

  She wondered if Whit knew Lorenzo was in love with her.

  “That’s wonderful, young man.” Alfred relieved her of the duty of actually speaking for a moment or two. “Your help is greatly appreciated. Sar—that is, Mrs. Kendrick and I came up with a theory.”

  Whitman’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you now? I can’t wait to hear it.”

  With Sarah’s heart thumping, her gut churning, and her mouth as dry as the cotton she grew up with, they sat down and spoke of everything they’d seen.

  They were a strange group of four, but she fervently hoped they’d be able to solve Mavis’s murder, come hell or high water.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alfred, true to his word, brought the passenger manifest to their room. Whitman couldn’t quite accept the fact the portly conductor was helping them out of the goodness of his heart. There had to be a gain for him.

  Whit sure as hell hoped it wasn’t a night in Sarah’s bed, or he might have to knock the man into next week.

  When did he get so emotionally out of control? He could hardly focus on what they were saying as he sat between the young man who loved her and the fat man who wanted her.

  Whit was the man who had her, but couldn’t keep her.

  Sarah and her bevy of men.

  He almost snorted at the thought. She didn’t realize how much being in the room with all of them nearly drove him to run again. Sarah leaned in close at the page he was currently reading.

  “I don’t see an Abernathy. You were right, Lorenzo. He didn’t travel under his own name.” She stopped and sniffed, then narrowed her gaze at Whitman. “What is that smell?”

  The sweat from his lat
e afternoon run through the lonely countryside had obviously dried on him, leaving behind an odor she didn’t take kindly to.

  “I was getting rid of some anger,” he offered lamely.

  “Doing what?” She apparently wasn’t going to give up.

  “Running. I ran around until I almost passed out. I’m going crazy here, Sarah. We’re fighting for our lives.” He didn’t mean to snap at her, but it came out that way anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  Whitman stood up and ran his hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the remnants of his crazy run. “If you’ll all give me five minutes, I’ll wash up and change.”

  His hand landed on the first button of his shirt and her gaze locked in on the movement. A pulse thumped between them and Whit knew she felt every second of the arousal as much as he did. They were connected.

  “Why don’t we go to the dining room and use one of the tables?” Alfred was surprisingly helpful. “That way we can give Mr. Kendrick some privacy.”

  The conductor and Lorenzo gathered up the manifest and walked out the hotel room door. Sarah, as she always did, rose slowly until she gained her balance.

  Her silver gaze collided with Whit’s as she limped toward him. “You are a helluva good-looking man, Kendrick.” She pulled him down by his hair for a fierce, soul-stealing kiss.

  Her tongue danced and tangled with his, pulling him into the whirlpool of sensuality he had tried to escape. His arms closed around her, bringing her flush against his aching staff. She yanked at his hair, again, as she pushed her hard nipples into his chest.

  Whit saw a movement at the door. Recognizing a full-size shadow, he realized it was Lorenzo.

  He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ve got company,” he whispered.

  “Lorenzo?” Her voice told him she already knew the answer.

  “I think so.” He steadied her on her feet, then kissed her softly. “You’d better go before we start something we can’t finish.”

  In her gaze, he saw something he didn’t want to see and wasn’t ready to accept. Instead of acknowledging the emotions, he turned away.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  The silence between them was as awkward as it had been the first day on the train, only a week earlier, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Fine. We’ll be waiting.” She shuffled out, closing the door softly behind her.

  Whit heard the murmur of voices and knew Lorenzo had been waiting for her. Perhaps in another lifetime, Whit would be the right person to marry Sarah in reality and she would be Mrs. Kendrick.

  For now, the marriage was as much of a lie as his denial of how he truly felt about Sarah Spalding.

  Sarah allowed Lorenzo to walk her to the dining room, her mind and body whirling with a thousand different emotions. She’d seen the truth in Whitman’s face and he’d pushed her away.

  Another rejection.

  Another reason to never trust a Yankee.

  Sarah wasn’t a woman to allow her heart to open to anyone, much less a Northerner like Whitman. Yet she had, almost against her will. And when she had finally allowed him to see how she felt, he had turned away from her.

  She almost choked on the tears that threatened. Sarah simply didn’t cry, especially over a man.

  Lorenzo squeezed her arm. “You love him, Sarah?”

  She shook her head, even as her heart screamed yes. “There’s no future there, Lorenzo. He’s a Yankee. Couldn’t you tell? Besides, he’s got a fiancée waiting in Kansas City.”

  “For true? Oh, that is wonderful.” Lorenzo’s demeanor changed from sad resignation to hopeful jubilation. “You did not marry him then?”

  Sarah considered her answer before speaking. “Oh, I married him. He’s my husband just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.”

  What she didn’t say was the marriage wasn’t legal. It was one of raw emotion, sensuality, and souls. Whit might not want to acknowledge it, but they were joined as one.

  “And the fiancée? What of her?” Lorenzo’s jubilance had melted back to melancholy. He was such a dramatic person.

  “I don’t know, Lorenzo, and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get this investigation over with so the train can leave tomorrow morning with us on it.” She walked the rest of the way to the dining room without speaking.

  Lorenzo, smart man that he was, stopped talking too.

  It gave Sarah a chance to slow her racing heart and put the steel back in her spine.

  Alfred waited for them at one of the larger tables with the manifest spread out in front of him. There were ten pages in all, with approximately ten to twelve passengers on each page. Since there were multiple stops along the way, passengers came and went each day.

  Their task was to find the man who boarded in Virginia alone and stayed on the train. A needle in a proverbial haystack, but Sarah was determined to find him.

  “I’ve ordered some coffee.” Alfred glanced up at them. “I wasn’t sure if you needed tea as well, Sarah.”

  “No, coffee will be fine.” She couldn’t stomach another cup of tea, no matter what Alfred thought of her.

  “Oh, that’s lovely. I like a woman who drinks a man’s drink.” He smiled at her.

  She wanted to punch him.

  “Let’s get started then.” Lorenzo saved her from committing an act of violence.

  She sometimes wondered if she’d ever be normal enough not to want to hurt people. Honestly, she doubted it, but it was a good goal to try to attain.

  Whitman arrived a few minutes later, the scent of his freshly scrubbed skin like ambrosia. Sarah attempted not to smell him, just as she tried to avoid remembering just how delicious that skin tasted.

  “How are we doing?” he asked as he sat down.

  “We’re making a list of male passengers who boarded the train in Virginia and continued on the train through Kentucky.” Alfred had a paper and pen to his right. “We can then interview them one at a time. They should all be in this hotel.”

  “Sounds good, but how do we know if they are traveling alone or with someone?” Whitman picked up a page and started reading.

  “We don’t until we talk to them. That will give us the opportunity to not only get a good look at them, but figure out if they are alone or not.” Sarah didn’t meet his gaze, simply because she couldn’t.

  Whitman was too dangerous for her heart.

  They worked through the rest of the afternoon until the dinner hour. By the time folks began arriving for dinner, they had a list of twenty-four men after eliminating Lorenzo and Whitman. None of them was named Abernathy, but they’d come to the conclusion he had given them a false name.

  “Now what do we do?” Lorenzo looked as determined as any young man with love in his heart.

  “We find them by splitting up into two teams. We can cover more ground that way.” For a moment there, Whitman sounded like a soldier giving an order to his troops.

  Sarah speared him with a gaze. “You want to try that again? This time without the pompous order?”

  He looked away. “Sorry about that. Old habits die hard. Why don’t Lorenzo and I start in the dining room, and you and Mr. Bannon can speak to the desk clerk. Does that sound good?”

  Sarah nodded tightly. “Sounds just fine to me.” She rose and held out her arm. “Alfred?”

  The portly conductor scrambled to his feet and gathered the passenger manifest with one of the copies of the list of potential suspects, then handed the other copy to Whit. “I am ready, Sarah. Let’s catch us a killer.”

  As she walked off on the man’s arm, she felt two pairs of eyes burning into her back. The boy who wanted to make her his and the man who didn’t want her.

  In her own way, she loved them both.

  Whitman ground his teeth together at Sarah’s dismissal. She was obviously angry with him, and rightly so. He’d treated her as if she were no longer welcome in his arms.

  Nothing could be further from the tru
th, but it was the necessity of survival. For both of them.

  Lorenzo gazed at her retreating back like the puppy he was, the love and longing so poignant, Whit had to turn away. He couldn’t handle anyone else’s emotional issues since he could barely handle his own.

  “Let’s start talking to people.” He stalked toward the first table with the list in his hand. They had to find Abernathy, or whoever killed Mavis, so he could escape.

  His sanity depended on it.

  The evening progressed slowly, although by the time Whitman had spoken to every man in the dining room, he’d eliminated ten names from the list. That was a good start.

  He and Lorenzo walked out to the lobby, but Sarah and the conductor weren’t at the hotel’s front desk. The freckle-faced clerk was gone, and in his place was a white-haired old man with wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Excuse me, have you seen Mr. Bannon and Mrs. Kendrick?”

  The old man looked up at him. “You Mr. Kendrick?”

  “I am.” Whit wondered why the other man felt it necessary to ignore common courtesy.

  “I’m Gunderson, owner of the hotel. I sent Patrick back to my office with your wife and Mr. Bannon. The hotel register is back there.” He curled his lip. “I doubt you’re going to find someone to blame your crimes on, though. My guests are not murderers.”

  Whit’s hands clenched into fists, but before he could think about teaching the man a lesson, Lorenzo lunged for Gunderson. Whit grabbed the boy’s collar, stopping him short.

  “No need to waste your energy on Gunderson, Lorenzo. He’d no doubt have you arrested if you lay a finger on him.” Whit was surprised how strong Lorenzo was. Love must’ve turned him into a raging bull, a feeling Whit knew all too well. “Will you tell me where your office is?”

  Gunderson looked between them, his lips compressed tightly. “In the back, behind the desk. But I don’t think all four of you need to be in there. My grandson can help but I refuse to allow him to face four of you at once.”

  Whitman had to restrain himself this time. What was it about people in this town? Why was everyone so suspicious of strangers?