Chapter 7

Patrick

I knew that I was out of my mind. What little was left of it, anyway. And yet there was no stopping what had started between us. Succumbing to gravity would have probably been less forceful.

I drank her in with a need fueled from all the times I'd resisted her, reveling in the sound of her breath hitching whenever my fingers touched her bare skin. My own breathing was in rags. It was the most exquisite sensation to have her pressed onto me like that, her legs entwined with mine, the flimsiest of fabrics separating our upper bodies—her underwear, my loose shirt and vest. Her mouth opened under mine, hindering none of my oral advances. Her feminine scent drugged me, cleared all conscious thought.

She gasped for air and I buried my head in the arch of her neck. Her delicate hands trailed across my bare chest and came to rest at the base of my scalp, pulling at my hair. The most primitive of instincts were awakened in my body. I wanted to rip off her undergarment and explore the range of sounds I could draw from her mouth. I cupped the small of her back and pressed myself against her thighs, wanting her to feel exactly how much I wanted her. Her breath shook, her hand taking the downward path across my chest, my stomach. I caught her wrist before she could reach the belt of my slacks and further underneath.

It had been quite a long time. And I wasn't willing to test how a simple, intimate touch of hers would affect me. Not when I was so eager to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of her first.

Not giving her time to question my actions, I locked her wrist over her head, tangling my fingers through hers, and reclaimed the taste of her hot mouth. My other hand slid up under her gown, exploring the softness of her skin, spanning the length of her waist and finally, closing over the roundness of her breast. A soft moan escaped her mouth. It was the most satisfying sound I'd heard in years. I brushed across her taut peak and she freed one leg from underneath me, brushing her thigh across the side of my hip. I took the trail downwards, sensing her need in her body language, moving lower and lower, until my fingers touched the very heat of her. Her back arched and she let out a low whimper.

"Jane," she whispered. It was not my first name, but somehow the way she had uttered it in this moment, with her soft, pleasure-stricken voice, it sounded more intimate than ever. It ripped the last thread of my control.

I placed her back gently, throbbing with desire, and focused on unbuttoning my pants.

My gaze caught on silver, a shining reminder on my finger. I stared at it, feeling as though I had suddenly been drenched in iced water. I took several deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm my heart down.

What was I doing?

Sam would be waiting. Reality would be waiting. And reality was a bloody hare that kept slipping through my hands—or as of lately, I kept letting it.

"Jane?" Teresa called my name again.

I raised my head to look at her. She had poised on her elbows, fighting for breath. She gawked at me with her seductive eyes, her swollen lips and flushed complexion. She looked so erotic that it took every last ounce of my strength to not just get back on top of her.

But she had noticed me gazing upon my ring and now slowly awareness returned in her own eyes as well. Awareness which soon gave way to horror.

"Damn, this shouldn't have happened" she said, her voice completely sober, as she got on her feet and started fumbling for her discarded clothes on the floor.

"Teresa," I tried to get her attention as she slipped into her blouse. In truth, my mind had gone blank, I didn't know what I could possibly say to ease the situation.

For once, she seemed to be the one to sense my struggle. She turned around. Her eyes—full of passion a moment ago—were now completely distant. She put on a smile of apathy.

"Don't worry about it."

Her coldness hurt. It hurt even more when she turned around too quickly, making me realize just how much I'd hurt and embarrassed her. I had actually managed to hurt her. The sudden urge to pull her hand and humbly beg for her forgiveness overwhelmed me. But I simply fixed my shirt and vest, as she put on the rest of her clothes.

Half-way she sensed my staring and caught my gaze again, her expression carefully wiped of all emotion. She was good at this, I thought. Guarding her feelings.

"Seriously, it's fine. And you shouldn't let that woman wait for you that long."

I nodded, lifted up my jacket from the floor and made for the door.

Maybe it was for the best that she was hurt, the vengeful part of me thought. Maybe this way, I would stay away.

But I hated to leave her disgruntled like this, and so just before I left, I turned around and said the only thing that I thought would help ease some of her troubled thoughts.

"By the way, Sam is the woman that helped raise me up at the carnival."


Teresa

I sat down on the sofa of our little lounge, staring at the door that had just closed behind Patrick. With a sigh, I buried my face into my palms.

Sam was the woman who had raised him, not his mistress.

I shook my head, realizing that once again, he had been right. I was jealous. The relief that I felt now was only proof of that.

"You're such an idiot, Teresa," I muttered to myself. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes and I quickly brushed them with the back of my wrist.

I was in dire need of a distraction. Anything to divert my thoughts from him and the way he had been touching and kissing me minutes ago, the hard feel of his body in the dimness of the curtained bed alcove. God, why did it have to feel so damn wonderful? I had never felt so full in my chest. It was terrifying, how ridiculously fond I was of him and how I wished that he had never stopped, even as I recognized how wrong that would have been. How I craved that it would happen again and again. Alwa— But I didn't let myself finish the word.

Thankfully, there was already a pressing matter at hand that required my undivided attention.

I still didn't have any news of my niece and as the hours went by, the question of her whereabouts became a persistent nuisance. I decided to look for Kimball and ask whether he'd received any word regarding the matter. My plans though only went so far. When I knocked on his door, there came no answer from him.

A perilous idea slowly crept into my mind. One that Grandmother would have disapproved of. But I hated sitting empty-handed, waiting for either man to show up, when I could simply take a cab and go visit the girl by myself. Of course, because of the cholera outbreak, the residence could still be quarantined. Kimball needed his friend's police clearance to make sure he could enter. But it was all typical precautions, Ms. Edgecomb would have mentioned it in her letter if she and Annabeth had caught the disease. In any case, surely it would be easier to determine their condition by simply walking up to the door of their residence and asking them in person.

I pulled my sleeve and briefly noted the time on my thin wrist watch. If I left now, I could be back by nightfall and none would be the wiser regarding my absence. I would check with Ms. Edgecomb and if it was safe, I would help her pack up Annabeth's belongings today, and tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I would have the girl transferred to me.

My mind was made up. I rushed back to our room and switched my jacket for a long black coat, covering me from neck to toe. I reached into its right pocket and found my revolver, along with a small pouch filled with bullets. I was well-informed of the dangers stalking a woman wandering alone in America and so I would take no chances. I opened the barrel and placed the bullets one by one in the cylinder, then slapped the barrel closed.

My heart felt lighter as I descended the stairs of the hotel. It felt exhilarating to take one's matters into one's own hands, as opposed to waiting behind walls for men to provide solutions. This is why I never fit in the leisurely life of grand salons and evening soirees. I belonged out there, in the action. Maybe if society wasn't so damned reserved towards women in leading positions, I would even be allowed to join the police force. And personally throw uncle Volker in jail.


Patrick

Sam had found Lorelai's apartment empty, which was not far from what I expected. Though I had hoped for careless clues left behind—letters, books, a token maybe.

Asking her neighbours under the pretense of an old family friend had earned Sam the tragic story of a murdered sister and a basic description of a woman.

Sam's brilliance never ceased to amaze me, she had simply made a wistful remark about missing the little girl, that so many years had passed that she feared she wouldn't even remember her, and so the unsuspecting neighbor had filled in the details for her:

Average-height, slim, brunette, warm chocolate eyes and a pleasant voice.

Despite her cunning ways, Sam's findings were barely enough to constitute a lead. My restless mind could not bear the thought of missing something. So, instead of going back to the hotel that afternoon, I hopped on a carriage and named the destination of Lorelai's former residence.

Unlike Sam, I broke my way into the small apartment.

I took my time getting comfortable with the place. I opened several cupboards, found the poor collection of a few cups and dishes, opened a drawer, discovered tea.

I brewed myself a pot.

Tea in hand, I ambled to the closest room—a bedroom occupied by a single wooden bed flush against the wall, a side table and a trunk. I put my cup on the table and lay down on the mattress, folding my hands over my stomach.

I closed my eyes.

Images of her were instantly flooding my mind. The exquisite smoothness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, the perfect shape of her lips, the constellations of freckles that I wanted to explore all over her body.

Focus. My eyes jerked open. I had the most peculiar sense—exciting and scary at the same time—that I was about to discover an atrocity. It was the same feeling I had whenever his presence was palpable in a place—Red John's presence. The instinct of survival was pushing me to comfort—tea, a woman's touch. Because that was what it was, my mind reasoned. Teresa was the first woman after, well, many years. It was only reasonable that I had acted the way I did with her. She was, after all, unmistakably attractive, and any man in his good senses, even a widower seeking revenge at that, would have found himself ensnared in her beauty.

So I forced myself to discard the image of her from my mind and look around, despite the tightness in my chest.

I raised my hand and tested the sound of the wall at various spots. When nothing came of it, I got up and lifted the mattress. I stooped to the floor to look underneath the bed.

Sweaty and unsuccessful, I stood upright and picked up my tea again. I started pacing around the room, listening closely to the sound of the floor, lest I come across a loose slab of wood. I bent briefly to open the trunk, prepared I wouldn't find anything there.

The cup fell from my hand and shattered on the floor, shards flying all around.

I stared at the all-too familiar red smiley face drawn on the back of the trunk, the echo of my nightmare gripping at my soul. My gaze lowered to the bottom. Down there lay a small doll with dark chestnut curls, and green eyes. Like emeralds.


Teresa

"Ms. Edgecomb?"

The woman that had opened the door looked at me. At least, I thought she did, for she had the most peculiar eyes—present, but absent at the same time. She was tall, red-haired, probably in her thirties but with a youthful, innocent roundness about her face. Her lips pressed into a kind smile.

"I'm sorry, that's not my name."

Her words clawed deep into my stomach and stirred up a terrible, hollow feeling. I stared into her strange, unfocused eyes and tried to suppress the inexplicable fear that I was unveiling a horror.

"I am Lady Teresa Lisbon. She must have mentioned me," I explained, concluding that the woman must be a relative of the nanny's. "She's been looking after my niece."

A soft furrow appeared between the woman's brows. "I'm afraid I don't know of any child," she claimed. "There must be a mistake."

I frowned, now certain that the lady was either a fraud or severely ill. I tried to smile politely nonetheless. "That's impossible," I said. "I'm positive this is the address I've been writing to."

"Oh," she said, sudden recognition in her expression. "That must have been the previous tenants then. You see, the house was given to me recently."

"What do you mean? Where are the former residents?" I asked, now my fear breaking out into my voice.

"I don't know," said the woman, and I felt as though I was about to grab her from her shoulders and shake her until her words became useful. Luckily for her, she added, "but I think I know some people who might help. Would you like to come inside?"


The living room was awkwardly quiet. I sighed as the young woman searched in the drawers of her tall mahogany chiffoniers.

I couldn't sit down, instead tapping my foot on the floor and scanning the room tirelessly. I tried to imagine Tommy with his wife occupying the cozy homestead, Annabeth running down the hallway as a little girl. Annabeth, my niece whom Tommy claimed was a perfect copy of me, with brown hair, high cheekbones and green eyes. I'd barely gotten to know her. Oh God, let her be safe, I prayed for the hundredth time.

"Ah," said the woman, turning around. "Here it is."

My eyes dashed toward her. It still made me uneasy to look at her faded eyes.

Rosalind Harker. That was the young woman's name. I recalled no mention of her in the nanny's letters and she claimed she knew nothing of a child. The house was given to her by a man. I knew of no men that gifted entire houses, but this one, Rosalind claimed, was quite different.

Roy Tagliafero. No address. No contact information. She swore that the man she knew would have never hurt or kidnapped a child.

"What's this, Rosalind?" I asked her, as she handed me over a card.

"A couple came to my house some days ago. They claimed they had been working for the previous owners. The wife cooked and the husband did odd jobs around the house. They wished to be hired again, but I kindly refused."

"Why?" I asked.

"I could smell whiskey on both of them."

I nodded, fear gripping my heart. "So why did you keep their address?" I inquired, reading the card she'd given me.

"Oh, the woman insisted." Rosalind shrugged. She smiled then. "Are you sure you don't want any tea?"

I returned her polite smile, only to remember shortly that she couldn't see it.

"No, thanks."

I closed the card in my palm and looked over to the window. It was getting dark outside, soon it wouldn't be ideal for a woman to venture alone in the streets. I considered returning to the hotel, enlisting Kimball's help. At the same time, I knew that this was simply not an option, as I needed to ensure Annabeth's safety first and foremost.

So I hopped back into the carriage and named the new address to the driver.


Patrick

I barged into our room, only to find it dreadfully empty. The leaf of the wardrobe hung open and her earlier outfit lay discarded on the sofa. This alone should have been a sign that she had gone out, but still, because it was her, I had to make certain.

"Teresa?" I called out.

I almost tore off the curtains at the bed alcove, I tripped on my way to the washroom, I made a mess as I emptied out our wardrobe, but her absence was an echoing reality refusing to retreat. I left everything as it was and rushed out into the hallway and down the stairs of the hotel.

"Excuse me!" I shouted, raising my hand to get the receptionist's attention from across the lobby. The man shot me a wary look, as I ran toward his desk. "Did Mrs. Jane say where she would go?"

He frowned, opened his mouth, his reaction too slow for my urgent need for answers.

"Did she leave any message? It's a simple question, answer it!" I demanded, raising my voice.

"No, she didn't, Mr. Jane. Shall I send people to look for her, sir?"

I passed my fingers through my hair, feeling hopeless. Stupid, how could you be so stupid! I had let myself grow attached and he had seen it. He would go after her. Damn it! Where was she? I slammed my hand on the counter, startling the man behind it.

Think, think. Where would Teresa go? Her long coat was missing from her collection, which meant she aimed for coverage and discretion. She would need those things if she intended to return late at night or visit an iffy area. She was also not the type to go for shopping or a leisure walk. There was only one place, or rather person, Teresa was anxious to see from the moment we arrived here. Suddenly, an idea came to me.

"Mr. Cho," I said as I grabbed the receptionist's wrist. "You delivered a message for him this afternoon. What was the address he gave you?"

The man hesitated. "I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to disclose this —"

"Please, he could be in danger."

After a moment, the receptionist sighed, dug through some papers and wrote a name and address for me.

"If Mr. Cho appears, tell him to come find me at this address immediately."

"But you just said—"

I rushed out of the hotel, the man's words fading out behind me. I hailed the first carriage that came my way, hoping that this time, I wouldn't be too late.


Teresa

It had started to drizzle and along came a gusty wind. The dimming light of dusk revealed low-roof, dilapidated houses that stood so close, they almost touched. There was no soul wandering the streets.

The vehicle eased to a stop. I stayed in my seat, hoping that we were simply making a pause. Maybe the driver had accidentally taken a wrong turn and he was now planning a reroute. To my greatest disappointment, he instead called out that our destination was reached. My heart sank.

I looked outside the window to the house that stood directly in front of us. There was light coming from the upstairs window and through the flimsy curtains I could spot the figure of a woman. I turned to the driver.

"Could you wait for me, please? I will only take a few minutes."

"Sure," he said.

Only as I climbed out of the vehicle, did I realize that he had agreed too easily, without so much as mentioning extra payment. By the time I turned around, the carriage was driving away, leaving thin, red dust floating over the dirt road.

"Damn it!" I cursed through my teeth. I shouldn't have paid him all the fare amount in advance. But he had been so uncooperative in bringing me here, saying it was a troublesome area, that I had seen no other option at the time. My eyes darted around, searching the surroundings. I took a deep breath and steeled my jaw. I had come here with a purpose and I would not rest until it was fulfilled, let God be my witness.

I walked straight to the door, took a fortifying breath and knocked firmly a few times.

A man soon answered. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing me, his expression a mask of nonchalance.

"Mr. Timothy Carter?" I asked.

"Yes?" he asked mockingly.

I tried to suppress the anger that sparked inside me. "This visit concerns your former employment at Miss Edgecomb's residence," I started, my voice clear and sharp. "I was told you are the last person to have seen her and the child she was looking after and so you will inform me of her whereabouts."

Carter studied me from head to toe, then leaned to look over my shoulder. "Are you alone here, lady? You must know this isn't the best area for a woman of your class to wander around. Here there be thieves and…" Another look across my body. "... other wrongdoers."

"Answer the question!" I raised my voice.

He shrugged. "The nanny's dead. I never knew or saw a child."

A shadow appeared far behind the man, leaning on the doorframe of the other room.

"Tim!" shouted a female voice. "Get rid of her and come back inside!"

"She can do nothing, Sally," he shouted back, his eyes never moving away from me. "It's late and she's a lost woman all alone by herself."

I held his gaze firmly. "When did she die?" I asked, determined to uncover his lies.

"I have no idea. Time means nothing here."

"What was the cause of her death?"

"Listen, little lady—"

Just then, a thud came from somewhere upstairs. I flicked my gaze upwards, then fixed it on Carter.

"What was that?"

He shook his head, as though he'd heard nothing. I was finally tired of his act. Before he could say or do anything, I pulled my gun out and aimed it at his skull. It felt satisfying to see the surprise on his face, the change in his expression as he started doubting whether I was as helpless as he had claimed after all.

"Listen," I hissed, "you will tell me where my niece is, or God forgive me, I will shoot."

Timothy fixed his shocked expression and glanced nonchalantly at the barrel of my gun.

"You won't shoot," he taunted.

"Try me," I challenged.

He took a step forward and I instinctively pulled the trigger, shooting at the space right next to his head.

"Next one goes through your skull," I threatened.

He started retreating toward the inside of his house and I followed in small, careful steps. I repeated my former questions to him and he insisted on the same answers.

"I told you I have no knowledge of a child," he protested.

"An honest man would have tried to call the authorities by now," I accused, speaking through my teeth.

He shrugged. "Well, then I guess, I'm not an honest man."

His words confused me for a moment. So did his sudden indifference, as if somehow he had gained the upper hand in the situation.

Then I realized I had stepped too far into his house, and that Sally's shadow was no longer in sight. I felt the stir in the air at the same time that the blast came at the back of my head.

The pain was brief, for I plunged into an overpowering, numbing darkness.


A/N: I want to say thank you for all your kind reviews. To the person that asked me to update this as a Christmas gift: I heard you, thank you, that was so sweet and it really motivated me, so I made an honest effort to update it by Christmas, but I was in a place where nothing I wrote felt okay to me, so it took me longer to manage this update. The good news is, I have written another three and half chapters already, so the next installment won't come too late this time. Thank you for your patience and for sticking by this story so far!