DARK RUNS OUT
Anna had not truly expected to find anything, but all the same, it was a bitter disappointment to find the dead drop empty once again. Cursing under her breath, she shoved the box back into its hiding spot. With a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure no one was lurking in the trees, she started the long walk back to town. Luckily, she had encountered no one all morning as she crossed the fields and crept through the woods. The morning was grey and still; the falling snow gathered quietly on the bare trees and stuck to her eyelashes. It was almost peaceful, but Anna took little comfort in it. Her hands were stinging from the cold and her heart throbbed painfully, as though some invisible fist clenched it tight—but it was a familiar sensation to her these days. She checked the dead drop as often as she dared, but it felt increasingly futile, for each time, she found nothing—no response from Ben and Caleb; no instructions, no plan, no promise for action. She was rudderless and friendless with no word from Connecticut, Abe in prison, and Major Hewlett—what fate had befallen him, she could only imagine.
It was strange—damned ironic, Brewster would have said—but it was for the major's safety that she feared the most. She worried about Abe, of course, but at least she knew for certain he was alive, and it was easier to set that fear aside. It was Hewlett who crossed her thoughts fluidly and frequently, his bloodied face flashing in her mind. Surely they would not have killed him, she told herself over and over—he was too valuable, and the rebels were not savages. But she had repeated that litany for weeks now, and it was becoming difficult to convince herself.
The town was slowly stirring by the time she reached the tavern. Anna quickly smoothed her hair and traded her cloak for an apron, bracing herself for another monotonous day. It felt so useless to go on with pouring ale, clearing tables, and scrubbing floors, but she had no alternative. All she could do was play her part here and wait. The afternoon was creeping along when Captain Wakefield and a handful of officers entered, stomping the snow from their boots before they looked for a table. Anna seethed at the thought of them idling here while the major was held captive and it was in their power to rescue him.
"Good afternoon, Captain," she caught Wakefield's attention, pouring his drink.
"Mrs. Strong," he nodded politely, moving to take the ale and make a hasty retreat, but Anna kept her grip on the cup, stalling him.
"Any news of Major Hewlett?" Captain Wakefield sighed wearily. Anna stuck out her chin.
"As I have told you before, my orders are to remain in Setauket and defend the garrison, so unless you now receive military intelligence and have other instructions for me—"
"I'm aware of your dedication to your duty, Captain," Anna interrupted sharply. "What about Major Hewlett? Do you even know if he is still alive?"
Wakefield shrugged and pulled the cup from her grasp.
"One can only hope."
He gave her a cursory bow and retreated to the table where his comrades had settled. Laughter burst from the group; Anna supposed her persistence was the source of their amusement. She only clenched her jaw and turned to scrub the countertop furiously. Wakefield's exasperated condescension would not deter her. She could not set sail across the Sound herself, but even with all of her resources exhausted, she could continue to needle the captain.
Over the past weeks, Anna had taken some comfort in the fact that she had done everything she could to save Hewlett and Abe, that now it was out of her hands. But now even that cold comfort was shaken; her conversation with Mary the day before had unsettled her. She told herself that she had done everything in her power, but there was a steady drumbeat in the back of her mind that asked, have you? Her eyes fell on the corner of the tavern she had been avoiding all afternoon, where Simcoe sat, silent and expressionless. His gaze was not on her, but still it felt as though he were watching her.
She shuddered, but all the same she had to admit that there was still one recourse left to her. Anna had only known Edmund Hewlett a short time, but something told her that had she been the one dragged off into the dark, he would have stopped at nothing to find her. She was not sure if she could say that of any other person.
Anna swallowed hard. She was overcome with the sensation that she was treading water, barely keeping her chin above the rising tide. And the worst of it was, she missed him.