Lucky could hear the two voices now. Having never met either Potts or Barlowe, he couldn't know if it was their voices. But the two men were discussing something already frightening, capturing his interest immediately.
"You disposed of both trouble-makers?" said one.
"Aye." This came from a deeper, obviously taller, bigger man. Potts perhaps?
"Good. There was no reasoning with them," said the other, Lucky thought might be Barlowe, his speech pattern was more educated. "When the English captains showed up with their kinfolk and started offering money for witnesses who could refute the lies they say that got the bitch convicted, those two started to see easy living as a possibility, and said they'd consider telling them the truth for English money if we couldn't pay them more gold coins."
"Greedy bastards, them Slocum boys," said the deeper, younger voice. The one Lucky assumed was the former constable. "Always demandin' more coin. With them out of the way, it's more for you an' me. Right?"
"What did you do with them?"
"Shot 'em out in the bay and dumped 'em. They're likely halfway to the Atlantic now, and eaten to the bone."
"Good, good," said the older voice.
Lucky was pretty certain he was listening to Potts and his relative, Barlowe. Whatever they were doing couldn't bode well for him, Ian, or Marcus. He needed to get his nephew out of here, unharmed. He and Ian were better than fair fighters, two on two, wasn't anything they'd not done before—and on more than one occasion.
Lucky motioned for Marcus to lay flat and roll closer to the keel as quietly as possible. As he and Ian crouched low, ready to spring forth if needed. The murderers drew closer but stopped near the blacksmith's hut and the three of them had a perfect view of the scene playing out in the shed.
Backlit by the glow of the smith's forge, the two spoke in low tones. Lucky could barely make out what they were saying.
"So what is this job you needed me to do?" asked Potts.
"We need to make it look like a struggle took place here," replied Barlowe.
"Why?"
"To set up another crime that we need to prepare for."
Lucky couldn't hear what Potts said next, only Barlowe's reply. "Oh, just do it. Then file a report in the morning after you arrive."
"Ah... and blame it on the limey captain," Potts said.
For several minutes, Lucky, Ian and Marcus all witnessed the destruction of the shed. Tools were tossed out of the shed, and shelving ripped from the wall of the lean-to. The forge was untouched, of course, because of the heat. If a fire were to start it might spread to the ship, and the shipyard owner would have to replace the boat.
The two men paused to praise the destruction they caused, and the shorter man visibly smiled. He pulled a gun from his pocket and took aim at the other man, the larger of the two.
Marcus inhaled and Ian was quick to put his own hand over Marcus' mouth to prevent him from speaking.
Potts turned and faced Barlowe, his eyes widening when he saw the gleam of metal in the light of the coals.
"What's that for?" Potts asked. "Put it away or someone'll get hurt."
"That's the point."
The man he presumed was Potts was near to the forge, he grabbed the handle of one of the blacksmith's tools and swung it at the man Lucky thought to be Barlowe. The pistol fired, and the sound of a man grunting and falling to the ground filled the space between the two parties.
"Why?" the dying Potts asked through a breathy voice.
"Because you were the last weak link in my plan. As long as you lived there was always the chance I might be discovered. With you and that meddlesome lawyer gone, the widow dies and I can buy the shipyard from the bank at greatly reduced value."
"The money... goes with... the brat." Potts' voice was pain-filled as he moaned loudly between speaking. "Her father will... take her to... England."
"But you forget, I manage the trust through the bank. I have wanted to expand my yard for the past two years and that old bastard would never sell his property. Said his wife was going to run it without him."
"Grr... Help... Nick... you bas...tard."
"I can't," Barlow said. "You have to die, and it has to look like you came upon some thieves and tried to stop them. I'll make you a hero. You died protecting company property." Barlowe gave a chuckle. "Your mother will be proud of you after your death. Something she couldn't be while your miserable hide still lived." The man continued to laugh as Lucky heard the crunching of shells move around the shed. "You should die soon, don't worry. And the morning crew coming on will find you, so you won't be out here too long."
Potts quit speaking. Barlowe lit a cheroot and watched his relative a few minutes before walking away, confident there were no witnesses. Once Lucky was certain the murderer was no longer near, he rose from his crouched position and ran to Potts, but it was too late. The former constable's eyes had a vacant look and the quantity of blood around his body told Lucky there was no way the man was still alive.
Ian and Marcus came up behind him and Ian checked the man's pulse.
"He's gone," Ian said as the metallic scent of blood began to combine with the usual smells of a shipyard.
Marcus walked away and Lucky could hear the lad retching. He met Ian's gaze. "He's never seen a man die before. I was about his age when I witnessed a man shot outside a pub near the docks in town."
"I was much younger," Ian said. "At the time it was frightening, and I wished I'd never seen it. Had nightmares for weeks afterward."
"Somehow, we need to find Michael and Ren in Baltimore," Lucky said, frustrated and angry at the events of this night. "And as hard as it will be, I must tell Mary what we heard about her attorney quite possibly being dead as well."
"It would explain why he hasn't returned," Ian replied.
Marcus fell in step with him and Ian as they headed for their boat. "Do we know where to find my father?" Marcus asked.
"No," Ian said, stopping short before reaching the bulkhead where the skiff was tied below. "But they will go to the appellate court in Baltimore for certain in the morning. I will take the ferry across in the morning."
Lucky just nodded. "If Baxter is truly dead, Mary will need representation again. Someone outside the influence of Barlowe, someone not from Indian Point." Lucky could kill Barlowe for this, but it would create an enormous political thunderstorm. Not just for him, but for Mary as well. "God, what a mess. To think that the bastard would have let Mary die. And for what? A few acres of land near the water. Think about it," he said. "What made Watkins Shipbuilding was Spenser Watkins. What makes it now is Mary. Mary and all the men who work for her."
M
ary-Michael rocked her crying infant, unable to settle her with a nipple to her lips. In fact, it seemed the more she tried to encourage the babe to nurse, the more she cried. Sitting in the tiny cell in the pre-dawn hours with Lia as her companion, Mary-Michael wanted to cry just as much as her daughter. She had a dark, ominous sensation growing in her gut. Like an unstoppable force inside her, it multiplied itself and consumed her normally optimistic spirit and tore apart her faith in humanity, and causing her to lose all hope.
"Think about something other than what the ambassador or your priest said when they came to visit," Lia said. "Your upset is preventing your babe from getting her milk. I know, it's happened to me many times."
Mary-Michael closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her racing heart to settle. Lia was right, her nerves were stretched taut and she thought perhaps it was time for Lucky and his family to leave with Lucy.
No one had heard from Mr. Baxter since he left a week ago, and the man's wife was now worried for him. Mary-Michael prayed that he'd had a better idea and was somehow en route somewhere, Annapolis, Washington, anywhere. Anywhere as long as he was alive and working either on her case or another one. She supposed there was an outside chance that he was helping someone else with a legal matter. But if that was so, he would have told his wife, or someone in his office where he'd gone off to and he hadn't. The fact was that Frank Baxter left the morning after she was found guilty and sentenced to hang, saying he would be back that Thursday afternoon—after filing her appeal. He caught the ferry across the bay from Indian Point to Baltimore, and hadn't been seen since.
Lifting the fussy babe from her breast, she laid Lucy over her shoulder and rubbed her back slowly as she rocked her. She tried hard to calm her breathing and slow her racing heart. Eventually she was successful, the babe settled, and she put her to the breast again. Lucy finally nursed successfully and was soon asleep.
"See? If you relax, she'll get a tummy full," the duchess said, setting the pen aside and standing. "I have been writing to Elise. I've told her how beautiful Lucy is. She looks like my daughter Isabel did when she was born."
Lia took the silent bundle from Mary-Michael's arms, changed her diaper and placed her back in the cradle. Voices outside her door told her there was company. She was facing the door when Rachel entered.
"Mary-Michael, the captain is here and says he needs to speak with you. Urgently."
This is what her gut was trying to tell her earlier. Something had gone wrong. Something had happened.
In the reception room minutes later, she and Lia entered to find Lucky alone. Mary-Michael's guard stood in the doorway awaiting his replacement as his shift was almost over. This man was less rigid with the rules than her other guards and during his watch Mary-Michael and Lucky had been able to touch hands.
This early morning visit though was not of a social nature. Something had happened. Lucky's normally handsome face was lined with concern, and the dark circles under his eyes told Mary-Michael that he'd likely not had any sleep at all.
He leaned in close to both of them. "Ian, Marcus, and I were witness to a murder," he whispered for Mary-Michael and Lia only. Lia's sharp intake of breath and muttered Latin prayer told Mary-Michael the duchess was now understanding the gravity of the situation surrounding her. "The murderer got away," Lucky continued, "but we are certain we know who he is. The new constable will likely come looking for me, as the murderer thinks to blame me. He does not know that we were there and witnessed what the two men said and what the murderer did."
"Where is my son? Is he..." the duchess asked.
"He is fine, darling," Lucky said to his sister, kissing her cheek. "Marcus is at the rectory. Ian is taking the ferry across to Baltimore to fetch Michael, Ren and Fox and bring them back quickly."
"But they went searching for Mr. Baxter... Why bring them back quickly?" Mary-Michael had to ask, afraid for Lucky now that he was in harm's way. "What is it you know?"
"We believe you had a jury that was influenced by Barlowe's money into returning the verdict they did, and handing down the sentence they did. We overheard Barlowe and Potts talking. Potts killed two of the men who testified falsely against you. Slocum, I think he said."
Mary-Michael's head began to spin and she wanted to sit, but there was no chair in the corner where they spoke. The two lads who worked for her—aye, stole from her—were now dead. They were misguided, yes. But they didn't deserve to die.
"You haven't mentioned my attorney," Mary-Michael said.
The look on his face told her something terrible had happened to Frank Baxter. Before she made a sound she placed her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
"We'll know more when Michael returns," Lucky said softly, trying not to get the guard's attention at the door, "but my guess is he never made it to file the appeal. If no appeal is filed, the judge can schedule your execution. Barlowe is going to accuse me of murdering Potts to get me out of the way as well."
Her heart raced, beating so hard and fast that surely it would burst from her chest. Mr. Baxter. Oh, God. And his wife! Oh, how her heart broke for dear, sweet Mrs. Baxter.
"Mary, Mr. Barlowe is trying to get the shipyard from the trust Spenser set for you. With you dead, he can do it because he's rich and influential. He is also a board member at the bank Spenser used to oversee your trust, which would be Lucy's if something were to happen to you."
Mary-Michael nodded, the shock of it causing her knees to weaken. Lucky brought her a chair from the opposite corner of the room, and placed it beside her. The guard turned to look into the room when he heard footsteps, but Lia smiled at him as though nothing were amiss, and he went back into the hallway to wait for his replacement—which, now that Mary-Michael knew of Potts' death—might not arrive on time.
Once she settled enough to speak, she told Lucky what they'd suspected since before the trial. "I told Mr. Baxter I thought Mr. Barlowe should be replaced as the overseer because there was a conflict of interest, and Mr. Baxter was investigating that process. I also wanted Barlowe excused from the board at the bank because he would also be the person to set the value to my property for the bank. If Barlowe under-valued the property, then purchased it at a much-reduced rate from the trust, he would then have the largest shipyard in all of Maryland, probably the entire eastern seaboard."
Lia, who'd been silent and listening intently to her brother, finally spoke. "What will we do?"
"Well..." her captain replied, suppressing a smile. "We have a plan."
"M
arry me, Mary," he said, his heart heavy because of the circumstance, yet filled with joy over this moment. "I love you and want you as my wife. But," he added, "more importantly, if you marry me and instruct the bank that I will now oversee the trust as your legal husband, it will allow me to protect all your assets.
Lucky could see Mary thinking. It frustrated him sometimes that it took her so long to make a decision. He was so different than his Mary. He followed his heart and his gut. Mary mentally calculated risk. Always. Her mind calculated pros, cons, logistics, mathematical equations, theories, principles, right, wrong, needs, and desires. She always had to think things through. He believed that sometimes she over-thought things to the point of talking herself out of doing something for fear the result wouldn't be what she'd planned or expected. Mary always wanted to know she could manage and control the world around her. Except right now she was about to lose the most important thing in the world to her if she didn't decide soon. Because it wouldn't take long for Barlowe to convince the new constable that Lucky was responsible for Potts' death.