Lace & Lead
Page 34
“Half the touring group was. Aristocrats, servants, mine workers. The beam above us went. Three people were crushed when the ceiling fell.”
“Who was in your group?”
She appreciated his even tone. If he was feeling anything as she relayed the details, she wasn’t seeing any signs.
“There were eight of us. Three were injured in the blast and died from their wounds within the first day.”
“That’s how you were injured?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else hurt?”
“Not seriously. I got the worst of it.”
“Tell me who was there.”
The faces flashed before her. She recited, just as she had for the Lawmen who investigated, “Me, two young girls who had been visiting to deliver their father his meal, a young boy who was there to train for a position and...”
She’d avoided saying his name for so long, afraid that saying it aloud would be like calling up the devil himself. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Peirce’s eyes narrowed and his fingers flew across the tablet. A moment later, “Charles Riecher?”
His eyes flicked to hers for confirmation. She nodded. The apartment fell silent but for the sound of his fingers tapping the surface. He finished whatever he was noting and said casually, “Only four made it out. Riecher wasn’t one of that group.”
“No.”
She couldn’t stay sitting. Pacing the length of the room helped a little, but her stomach continued to roil.
“They say he died from blunt force trauma sustained during the rescue operation.”
“Well, it was blunt force trauma.”
“From?”
She smiled at him weakly. “The rock I bludgeoned him with.”
He managed to keep his expression neutral, afraid that any sign of his inner turmoil would close her off from him completely. “You killed him?”
She was shaking but started to explain anyway. “Mr. Riecher was not a good man. Even my father warned me away from him. He had...a reputation...among the higher class for his rather selective tastes.”
Peirce could cut through that fine living bullshit. “He was a rapist?”
She nodded. “Underage girls. Servants especially. Women who wouldn’t be able to say no to him.”
“Bastard.”
“Oh, yes. I managed to keep the girls with me for the first two days. But the third day, one of them wandered off to find water for her sister.”
Emmaline breathed out deeply, sucked in another breath, pressed her hands to her face. Peirce caught himsel
f reaching for her and stopped. She didn’t need his comfort now. He knew that better than most; reliving a nightmare was only worse if others interfered and helped you forget for a brief moment. It made coming back to the memories even worse.
It killed him, but he sat there like a stone.
Her voice was shaky, but she’d stopped hiding her face. “I heard her screaming, Peirce. He had a knife to her throat. I tried to pull him off, but he turned and caught me—”
Her hand went involuntarily to her side and she winced like the pain was fresh.