He’d have taken her someplace hidden. Like a barn or an empty attic. In this weather, they couldn’t have gotten far. Once I called the Barneses’ residence, I was going out to look for them.
The moment I hung up from the phone call with Lord Barnes, I headed toward the door. “Fiona, stay here with the door locked until your father arrives. He’s coming in with Jasper, the twins, and Harley. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
“Wait, take this.” Fiona picked up a kerosene lamp from the desk. “We keep this in case we ever lose our lights.” With quick movements, she removed the glass top and lit the cloth wick from a match she’d found in one of the drawers. “Please, be careful.”
“I will. Now lock this door behind me and get the fire built up. I don’t want you cold.”
The moment I walked into the blinding snowfall, I realized how foolish it would have been to go out without the lantern. Night had fallen, and visibility was terrible. The horses were still hitched to the sleigh and standing just outside the office door.
However, I decided to stay on foot for my initial search. They had to be somewhere in town. There was no way they’d gotten far walking. But where were they? Think. Where would conniving Walter be inclined to go? Always the easiest way. He’d not have wanted to walk long in this ice, which fell now in slants and stung my cheeks. He would find a haven somewhere here in town.
He had a gun. Would he threaten someone else with it and take over their house or shop? I scanned the street for lights. The shops were all dark. Everyone had gone home for Christmas Eve suppers.
And then, what felt like a miracle happened. The festive bulbs hung over the pond turned on, filling the square with light. Fiona, I thought, clever little thing. The switch was located just outside Lord Barnes’s office. I should have thought of it myself.
Feeling more confident now, I surveyed the other side of the street. A flicker of light came from the tailor’s shop window. Not the usual electric bulbs that lit the shop but more like a flicker from a candle’s wick. Upstairs, in the Olofsson family living quarters, the windows were dark. Why would the lights of their apartment be off this time of day? Isak had mentioned how his father often worked right up until suppertime, enjoying the quiet while Mrs. Olofsson prepared the meal upstairs.
Had he been working when Walter walked in with Josephine? Mr. Olofsson wouldn’t have hesitated to invite them in, even if the shop was closed and she were accompanied by a stranger. He knew and trusted her. Once inside, had Walter pulled out his gun and forced them both upstairs? Did he have them all tied up? And were the boys home at the time? If so, did he have them too?
They had to be there.
I had no gun. Storming into the place without a weapon would be foolish. Lord Barnes and Harley would bring their pistols. Should I wait for them or barge into the place myself?
“Phillip.” Someone whispered my name. I turned, searching for the origin. Isak crouched in the small alleyway between two buildings, hiding behind an empty barrel. He gestured for me to follow him.
I hustled behind him through the alleyway to the back of the building. He’d either escaped or suspected, as I did, that not all was right at his parents’ shop and home.
The moment we were out of the alley, he told me what he knew. “Both my parents were downstairs trying to finish a job before it got too late, and I’d offered to put supper together. I happened to be at the upstairs window when I saw a man escort Josephine into my father’s shop. He was trying to hide it, but I could see he had a gun at her back. The moment they disappeared inside, I heard a scuffle, like bodies thrown against a wall, and a man’s voice shouting. My brother’s not home, and I didn’t want to go down there only to be captured as well. I shut out the lights, hoping that would be a clue to anyone who knows we live above the shop, and came down the back stairs to the alley as quietly as I could. I ran to the sheriff’s office, but Lancaster wasn’t there. I tried the saloon, assuming he was there, but then remembered it’s not open because Pastor Lind pressured them to close for the holiday weekend. It’s like a ghost town here tonight. I was about to start running for the nearest house when I saw you.”
“Lord Barnes, the twins, and Harley are headed into town. I called them from his office. Fiona had a key.” Realizing I was babbling, I took in a deep breath. As quickly as I could, I told him what Fiona had heard. “I don’t think he means to harm them, just to get money from Jo’s father.”
Isak nodded. “With the weather like this and no one else open, what other choice did he have but to hold them all inside until he can get what he wants?”
“Quinn and the rest of the girls are waiting at home to answer the phone in case he calls,” I said. “Where’s Viktor?”
“I don’t know. He was supposed to be home an hour ago—he was working out at the mill today, and Roy usually drops him off on his way home.” He took off his cap and ran his hands through his hair. “I’d never seen that man before. I know everyone here.”
“I know him. He’s supposed to be dead. That’s Walter Green.”
“How is it possible?”
“He somehow escaped France and went to Switzerland or somewhere. Honestly, I don’t know.”
“What do we do? Wait for Lord Barnes?” Isak asked.
Before I could answer, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the quiet night. Without thinking, I took off running through the alley until I reached the street, vaguely aware that Isak was behind me. Another shot rang out. When we reached the street, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Viktor, with Jo in his arms, stumbled through the door of the tailor’s shop. He had a gun in one large hand, poking out from under Jo’s skirt. Blood covered the front of her dress. Ice shot through me. Please, no. Not this. Please, God, no.
I finally reached them. Through the
open door, I saw directly into the shop. Mrs. Olofsson knelt over the prone, bloodied body of Walter Green. Mr. Olofsson ran out the door, shouting that he would get the doctor.
Viktor dropped to his knees with Jo still in his arms. It was then I knew it was not Jo who had been hit but Viktor. He was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. His blood had spilled onto Jo’s dress.
Viktor set Jo down, then slumped over onto the street and spread out lengthways as if he were simply taking a nap. I grabbed Jo and held her against my chest.
“I’m all right,” she said. “Viktor saved us.”