Shayla Black (21 page)

Still, no giggling. No trace of her daughter.

Maddie frowned. Certainly Aimee must be here somewhere. Where else would she have gone?

Glancing over her shoulder at Brock, she forced herself to be civil enough to ask, “Can you think of anywhere she might be hiding? Another room? A closet? A cabinet?”

“
No.”

His words drained Maddie of annoyance and filled her instead with worry. If he could think of no other place Aimee might hide, then…might she be outside this office? Her mind—and heart—began to race.

“
Aimee!”

Silence. Alarm crept into the pit of her belly, and Maddie began searching the room again, tearing aside draperies, knocking over Mr. Chiltam’s chair. “Aimee!”

Nothing. The horrible silence of Brock’s reception room terrified her.

“
Aimee!” she cried, skin clammy. Her hands shook.

Argument forgotten, she looked to Brock in a panic. “She’s gone!”

Brock came quickly to her side with a gentle whisper. “Stay calm. She may be in the hall or outside with Mr. Chiltam. We will find her.”

“
Yes,” she murmured, praying Brock was right.

Brock put his arm about her shoulder. “Let’s search about. Where would she most likely go?”

Maddie’s mind whirled as she tried to fight down the terror. “She loves to be outside.”

With a nod, Brock suggested, “Perhaps Mr. Chiltam took her out for a bit of air. You look in front of the building. I’ll check the stairs and halls here.”

“
Check the water closet as well.”

At Brock’s nod, Maddie scrambled down the stairs to her task, heart pounding. She prayed all the while that Aimee had not gone far, that she was safe.

Outside, the bright spring sun assaulted her eyes, momentarily blinding her. Alarm biting into her gut, Maddie shielded her eyes from the glare with an unsteady hand at her brow and scanned the massive building’s walk, the tiny scrap of grass that served as decoration. She saw her horse and a sidewalk full of busy bankers beginning to leave their jobs for the day.

But she did not see Aimee.

Hoping Brock had better luck, Maddie turned back to the building, only to find him emerging alone. His grave expression sent Maddie’s fear spiraling.

“
Any sign of Mr. Chiltam, either?” She heard her own voice tremble.

“
No,” he admitted. “Though I cannot imagine where he would have taken her or even if he would have done such a thing.”

Fear clawed deep lesions into her composure. Sweet heaven! Where could Aimee be? Terrible things could happen to an innocent child in a city as big and depraved as London. What if she was not with Brock’s secretary? What if they could not find her?

The tears must have belied her panic. “We will find her, Maddie,” Brock assured. “I promise.”

“
But sh-she’s so alone and so vulnerable. Aimee lives in a fairytale world. She trusts ev-everyone. She will be so afraid.” Fear trickled in a cold, relentless stream through her veins. “I’ve heard the terrible things that happen to children in this city. Oh God! They are sold into workhouses, into prostitution—”

“
Maddie, don’t think of that now. Concentrate on finding her,” Brock commanded, his words softened by his firm touch.

“
I’m all she has,” Maddie sobbed, feeling as if her insides were being torn to shreds. “She’s all I have. Please...”

Tears overtook her. Fear and despair vied to control her. Each took its own merciless chunk from her composure and peace.

Brock wiped the tears from her face with calloused thumbs and cupped her cheeks in his large hands. “I know, but you must stay calm. It is the only way we can help her.”

Maddie gave him a shaky nod, but the sharp edge of panic cut her composure again and again. For Aimee’s sake, she took a deep breath and tried to think rationally.

“
Look around you. Try to guess which way she might have gone.”

Shaking, terrified, she shot him a distraught glare. “If I knew, I would be running after her now!”

He caressed her shoulder in soothing strokes. “I know you’re frightened. Just look around you; try to imagine what Aimee might do.”

Tears blurring her vision, Maddie looked up and down Prince’s Street.
Think! Think of your little girl!

Directly across afforded her only a side view of the huge cavern that was The Bank of England. Aimee would not be interested in that. Behind her lay Cheapside, but that way was dark with tall buildings and trees. Out of fear alone, she doubted Aimee would go there. But directly across the street, a statue of Wellington stood proudly, adorned with singing, red-breasted birds. Yes, that might have caught her fancy.

However, the little girl was nowhere near the monument, just bankers and barristers with starched shirts and indifferent faces heading home.

With dawning horror, Maddie realized the road fanned out into four lanes beyond that. Throgmorton lay in a northeasterly direction that could lead her to the mean streets of Spitalfields. Cornhill stood almost directly east, winding its way to the hellish depths of Whitechapel. Lombard Street wandered southeasterly before heading back to Whitechapel as well. King William Street slashed south, toward London Bridge and the Thames.

No!
Sweet Aimee was only four years old, lost in a giant city with which she was totally unfamiliar. Anything could happen to her. Anything at all!

“
Maddie?” Brock prompted at her side.

Knowing she had to be strong, she swiped at her new tears. As she did, she noticed the birds—robins, from the looks of them—on Wellington’s statue take flight, their soft wings guiding them low to the ground. She watched as they followed an invisible path down Cornhill Lane. Maddie sent a prayer upward that her hunch was right.

“
Follow the birds.”

“
What?” He frowned, face belying confusion. Then he saw them too, flying in a seemingly fluent ribbon of red breast feathers not far above their heads. “Oh, she would like that.”

“
Yes.” Maddie nodded, hope stirring. Caution made her hesitate. “Do you think there have been others?”

“
Indeed,” said Mr. Chiltam as he arrived upon the scene from the other side of the street, his brown hair blowing in the wind. “I’ve seen small groups of birds behave in such a fashion for the past week or two. Is something amiss?”

Brock turned a look of such fury on Mr. Chiltam that the small man took a step back. “Aimee is not with you?”

“
No, sir. She is not.” Chiltam looked confused.

Maddie’s last hope died and another slash of fear tore through her at the secretary’s words. Dear God, Aimee was truly alone in the descending London night.

“
You left her, damn you! She is missing now.”

Chiltam pushed his glasses up on his nose in a clearly nervous gesture. “S-she asked to... relieve herself, so I took her down the hall, to the water closet. She said she could find her way back to the office, so I walked across the street to the bank to deliver some papers—”

“
Imbecile!” Brock’s face was the picture of contempt. “Look for her now. Don’t stop until you find her.”

Brock’s secretary mumbled something, shot a look Maddie’s way but could not quite meet her eyes. Chiltam then headed off in the direction of the river, down King William Street.

Maddie felt the tears threaten her again. She should have left Aimee at home with Aunt Edith instead of listening to her daughter’s begging to accompany her. She should not have left her alone with a stranger, not even for two minutes. But Mr. Chiltam had seemed so intelligent, and her conversation had been all too inappropriate for Aimee’s ears...

Excuses, all of them. Not one would bring Aimee back.

“
Come with me,” Brock urged. “We will find her.”

Stomach twisted tighter than a sailor’s knot, she nodded and followed Brock down Cornhill Lane.

They walked briskly in the descending dusk, brushing past hurried people. Maddie anxiously scanned the crowd, looking at every face. Brock stopped other bankers who crossed their path to ask if they had seen a wandering girl with swinging blond braids.

Every man’s answer was no.

The sky became gray, tinged with the vibrant oranges of dusk. Maddie’s panic escalated. She spoke to a hearty butcher, a withered baker, a crone selling flowers. She asked them all if they’d seen Aimee. None had noticed any child more than another today.

Dark would be upon them soon. As the continued east, the alleys in this part of town seemed limitless—and dangerous. Aimee might have wandered down one, into trouble. She would be cold soon, scared and hungry. The thought her daughter might really be lost to her made her break down. Hot tears burned her cheeks as Maddie shouted Aimee’s name. The taste of salt and fear invaded her mouth mercilessly.

Still Maddie trudged forward. The scent of sewage began to assault her nose. As Maddie continued calling for her daughter, a pack of alley cats meowed about her legs for a morsel. Even in the approaching dark, she could see the streets no longer had the shine of prosperity. She stumbled on a man sleeping at the edge of the street, clutching a bottle in his lax fist.

Was Aimee lost
here?

Brock was at her side instantly, a supporting arm about her shoulder. “Maddie, I know this is hard. Be strong. I promise that I won’t rest until we find her.”

She looked up into his solemn green eyes, his strong face. Even through her panic, she realized he truly meant that promise.

“
I won’t give up. I can’t,” she whispered.

A hack rushed by, horses’ hooves resounding like thunder on the dirt street. It barely missed the people hustling about. Another coach followed minutes later, equally heedless of the choking dust it sent flying or of the surrounding humanity. Mercy, they were so careless! What if one of them hit Aimee? She closed her eyes as fear chewed at her stomach.

Suddenly, Brock took her by the hand, led her forward, and called with her for Aimee.

Within minutes, the streets became narrower still. Here in Whitechapel, the stench of hunger and desperation permeated the air. Buildings with little rooms stacked on top of one another seemed to glare with meanness, as did the unwashed people around her. Aimee was at their mercy, and Maddie feared for her baby.

Cutthroats, pickpockets, and pimps prowled the streets. Laughter and drunken singing spilled from seedy pubs. In the alley, a swaying man urinated against an abandoned building.

“
A shilling for ye. And the missus can watch,” called a painted woman from above.

Shocked, Maddie glanced up at the open window of a brothel, into the face of a very young whore.

Kindness had little value here. She feared a little girl’s life had even less. Maddie wanted to believe these people were too engaged to bother hurting a lost child...but feared her thinking was wishful.

“
You’re shaking.” Brock softened his hard features. “Ignore them.”

“
I’m terrified,” she confessed.

“
I know. I’m here.” He wound his arm about her as they moved on.

After half an hour, Maddie feared they had taken a wrong path, that Aimee had not followed the birds. But luck finally struck when Brock stopped a young seamstress hurrying home.

“
Aye, I saw ‘er, not ten minutes ago. She was cryin’ and callin’ for her mama. Asked her wot was wrong, I did,” said the needle woman. “The lass pure ran off.”

“
Which way did she go?” Maddie pleaded.

The woman pointed a bony finger straight ahead.

Brock pressed a coin into the woman’s hand. Maddie thanked her through her tears.

She and Brock began to run, shouting Aimee’s name. But Maddie became aware of the small streets and alleys again, any of which Aimee might have turned down. They slowed again, checking every dirty crevice. Holding her breath against the awful stench, ignoring the prostitutes conducting business, she called Aimee’s name over and over.

No answer.

The last of the vivid colors left the sky as night fell, blanketing the land in black.

Desperation and denial clawed at Maddie.
God, let her baby be safe!

As they wandered into the heart of Whitechapel, a little girl with a grubby face and lank brown hair passed them, a mismatched batch of candle scraps displayed on a tray suspended by a rope about her little neck.

“
Guv!” she called excitedly to Brock. “Be ye wantin’ more candles?”

More candles?

Brock squinted, then recognition dawned. Maddie could not imagine where on earth he would have met the child.

He knelt at the girl’s feet and took her thin shoulders in his hands. “Molly, I’ve no need for candles tonight, but I need help. Very badly.”

The young girl nodded solemnly, as if she understood the urgency. Brock explained the situation. “Can you help us find this little girl? I’ll pay you twenty sovereigns if you bring her back to us.”