Hi. Yeah, it's been a while. Would you like to know why? I wrote this chapter months and months ago, and promptly lost it. That's what I get for writing it in a notebook and not typing it up right away. Anyways, I was incredibly frustrated by this, and couldn't for the life of me get it out on paper again. Until now. I'm kind of glad I lost it though, because when I went back to write it again I was able to change several things and make it much better (in my opinion.) and also much longer, since this is really only half the information I got out the first go around. Anyways. Read. Enjoy. I'm sorry for the painfully long wait, but… reviews love, my friend.
The first thing Hannah knew when she woke up was the pounding in her head, followed shortly by the knowledge that she was being jostled quite painfully. She opened her eyes and had to fight the overwhelming urge to panic when she found she couldn't see. Her head and body was covered with a rough, itchy fabric. Burlap, maybe. Biting back a scream of absolute terror, she tried desperately to get her wits about her.
She was in the back of a cart of some sort; that much was evident. She could feel the rough wood of the boards against her hands, which were bound tightly behind her. She tried to roll over only to find her hands were not only tied together, they were also tied to the cart, preventing her from moving.
She could hear talking over the creaking and clattering of the cart against cobblestones, and she listened hard, fighting to keep her body limp so she'd still appear unconscious.
"Boss says to have her tied up and put away at Tenney's and that's just what we do, aint it, Bill?" The man's voice was rough, and Hannah flinched the slightest bit, recognizing it as the voice from the alley, the man who had knocked her out. Now that she was really listening she could hear the slur in his words, the unsteady speech of a drunken man. "That's right, Bill, you and me… we'se the best—the best Conners men there ever is—was. I'm gonna tell him so."
"Go right ahead, Frankie, I'd like to see how kindly Conners takes to that," replied the second voice, the man called Bill. His voice was steady, and oddly familiar to Hannah, though she couldn't quite place why. "Hand me that flask there, Frankie."
There was a silence for a moment, then the clattering of metal hitting the ground, followed closely by a string of expletives that made Hannah's eyebrows shoot up in shock. There were just about as impressive as the ones she'd heard from the sailors down at the docks when she was a little girl. She'd made the mistake of repeating one of them once, and had earned herself a quick swat on the behind and a decree to stay away from the docks.
"Why'd ya go 'n do that for, Billy?" whined the first man, the one identified as Frankie. His voice was whiney, and coming from much higher up than it had a moment before, "That was me best whiskey!"
"You drink any more of it and you'll be the one falling off the cart, and don't think I'd stop to get you either. Now sit back down before you really do fall out."
Frankie grumbled but must have sat down again for the two fell back into silence.
Hannah lost track of time, her head aching all the more now that she had no eavesdropping to distract herself with. Her mind clambered for an explanation… why her? The men had mentioned Conners, did they mean Joe Conners? The gangster? Hannah shuddered at the thought, before remembering she was supposed to be unconscious. She stiffened, waiting for one of the men to take notice of the movement and send her back into the dark of sleep.
Nothing happened, and after a moment Hannah continued her puzzling. What would a man like Joe Conners want with her? The answer came with a certainty that was both unsettling and undeniable.
Elijah.
Elisabeth approached the front door of Judge Porter's house, her hands shaking so hard she had to clasp them behind her to hide the fact. She reached out pressing the doorbell with an impatient finger as she waited for one of the many maids to answer.
The door was opened and a young blonde woman in a maid's uniform let her in. She smiled at the girl, recognizing her from the many other times she'd been sent by Judge Porter to collect various papers from his home office.
"Good morning, Alice. I'm just here to pick up a few papers for the judge," she said smiling, managing to keep a waver of fear out of her voice as she spoke.
"Of course, Ms. Evans, go right ahead."
Elisabeth walked towards the back of the spacious mansion, directly to Judge Porter's office, glancing around furtively as she entered the large room and closing the door behind her. She looked around for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of pipe tobacco and old books and leather, allowing it to calm her. She moved quickly to the window, sliding it open with some difficulty and poking her head out.
"I don't know about this…" she said, glancing out.
"Look, either you want to help your sister and Bolt, or you don't," replied Spot, stepping out of the shadows and up to the window, "Now step back, I'm coming in."
Elisabeth frowned at the rude boy, but did as he said, stepping away from the window as he hoisted himself up and into the room. "I want to help my sister," she hissed at him, remembering to keep her voice down, "I don't particularly care what happens to Bolt or Elijah or whatever his name is."
Spot glanced over at her, and the look in his steady gray eyes caused her to avert her gaze, "Anyway," she continued, her whisper a little weaker sounding, "it's all his fault Hannah's even in this mess."
"Maybe it is. But at least he's fighting for her. Not whining and complaining like you are," he glanced away from her, casting his gaze around the room, "Now, where did you say that safe was?"
"Over there, behind that painting," Elisabeth replied, still smarting from his words.
Spot snorted, "Classic. You'd think people like Judge Porter would wise up and stop using the same hiding place for their safes."
He lifted the painting off the wall running his hand across the cool metal of the safe before leaning his ear against his, his face the picture of concentration as he reached up and slowly twirled the dial.
Elisabeth watched him nervously, her stomach turning at the thought of being caught. She paced to the door, sneaking it open slightly to look out before shutting it as quietly as she could. "Are you sure this has to be done? I don't see how Judge Porter has anything to do with all of this. What if somebody comes in?"
Spot glared over at her, lifting his head from the safe for a moment, "Would you quit your yammerin'? And don't open that door again, 'less you want to be caught. Make yourself useful, go through his drawers, see if you can find anything of any importance."
Elisabeth glared right back at him, smoothing her skirts down and lifting her chin as she walked away from the door. "And what, pray tell, am I supposed to be looking for?"
"Oh, for the love of— " He cut himself off, glancing back at her, "Anything. Just be quiet about it, would ya?"
Elisabeth made a face at his back when he turned away from her again, circling around Judge Porter's large mahogany desk. She grasped the handle on one of the drawers tugging at it only to find it wouldn't budge. Elisabeth glared down at the drawer, as if it somehow were the cause of all of her problems, and heaved back on it with all of her might. The drawer gave way suddenly, popping out with such a force it slammed into her knee, the bottom falling out with a clatter, along with a small black book.
Elisabeth's eyes widened at the noise, and Spot whirled around, looking like he was about ready to kill her.
"Sorry," Elisabeth whispered meekly, glancing down at the still full drawer in her hand. How was it still full? Her forehead creased as she felt along the bottom, which was still intact on the drawer. "Uh—Spot?"
"What?!" Spot growled, whipping around to look at her, "I swear, they're going to have a lot more to worry about than one Evans girl's life if you don't—"
Elisabeth cut him off, stooping to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground, "I think I found something important."
He narrowed his eyes at her, crossing the room quickly and taking the book, his eyes falling across the still full drawer and the square of wood that was lying on the ground. "A false bottom," he muttered mostly to himself, opening the black volume carefully.
The book was overstuffed with clippings and papers and receipts practically spilling out of it, and Spot flipped carefully through them as Elisabeth watched on nervously. "Well?"
"Well, what? This is perfect; you want a cookie or something for your work?"
Elisabeth huffed, crossing her arms across her chest, "Well! A thank you wouldn't be out of place you know!"
Spot flapped his hand in her direction, as if he couldn't be bothered with such things, his eyes still on the small book. "Alright, great," he finally said, snapping the book closed again and placing it on the desk before turning back to the safe. "Now, just sit there and be quiet. Before you get us both caught."
Elisabeth opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut as she thought better of it. However much she disliked him, she had a sneaking suspicion this Spot character could carry out any threats he might utter, and she had no desire to find out for sure.
She lowered herself into Judge Porter's chair, rubbing her knee and pouting. It had hurt slamming her knee into that drawer, but did she get any sympathy? No, she just got lectured for being too loud.
She watched Spot curiously as he focused on the safe, his eyes closed in concentration as he listened for… something. Elisabeth didn't know exactly what it was he was doing over there, but she supposed it was some way to get into the safe. There was a slight click followed by a cocky smirk on Spot's face as he pulled away from the safe, pulling the handle and opening it easily.
Elisabeth shook her head in disdain, she was certainly not impressed by this show of thievery. He rifled through the contents of the safe, pulling out a fat envelope and looking quite pleased with the contents as he glanced inside. He shoved the envelope in his pocket, before returning to his search. He looked through various folders placing some carefully back into the safe and pulling others out and stacking them in a pile on the desk, next to the black book. Elisabeth didn't dare interrupt him as he worked, though she was getting impatient.
After a few more minutes of sorting she said, "This is taking too long. I was just supposed to be picking up a case file, Judge Porter's going to know it's been too long. He'll know it's me."
Spot glanced up at her, "Well, I think you're going to have to resign yourself to the fact that you're not working for Judge Porter any more. If things go as planned, he's going to be spending quite a bit of time on the other side of the bars."
"Other side of the—Jail?! You mean jail!" Elisabeth stood, her eyes wide as she stared at the man.
"Course I mean jail! Whadya think we were just taking him for a walk in Central Park? He's a dirty judge, Elisabeth, not some saint in a black robe." He dropped one of the folders he'd been holding in front of her, pointing to the page, "Take a look at this. This is just one of the deals he made with Conners, and Conners is just one of the men he worked with."
Elisabeth stared down at the papers, her eyes scanning the information laid out in black and white. There were pages and pages of documentation on Joe Conners, evidence to several crimes, including two murders. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," Spot replied, snapping the folder closed again and putting it back in his stack, "Conners was paying Porter off, keeping him quiet about all these little tidbits. There was more to it than that, but we don't really have time for all that. I've got what I need. I'm going back out the window, hand me this stuff when I get out."
Elisabeth nodded, still too shocked to argue about anything as he crawled back out the window. She handed him the stack of folders, and he shoved them all into a black canvas bag he'd left outside, along with the black book that had been in the drawer. "I'll meet you out front," he said as she started to close the window. "Hey, don't forget the case files. The maid thought you were picking them up remember?"
Elisabeth nodded, her throat completely dry as she closed the window the rest of the way, picking up the files and clutching them to her as she walked as steadily as she could back to the front door. She smiled shakily at Alice, bidding her goodbye before trotting quickly down the front steps, her eyes searching the crowds for Spot.
He was beside her in a minute, the bag slung over his shoulder, and his hand wrapped around her elbow as he hurried her down the street.
"Now what?" Elisabeth asked, feeling sick to her stomach as she thought about how many laws she'd just broken.
"Now you go back to the Glass Factory and wait. That's all you need to worry about."
"But what are you going to do?" She asked, looking at him with fear in her eyes.
"I'm going to make sure you get to the Factory in one piece, and then I'm going to go find your sister." Spot replied, his eyes never once stopping their ceaseless search of the streets. Elisabeth didn't know what he was looking for, but she wished he would stop. It was making her nervous.