Authors: Beth Trissel
He detoured u
p the curved staircase
with her
at his heels
,
guarding
every creak.
Then he glide
d up the hall of Will’s
apartment
to
the end
of the passage.
Paul
was first
to ascend
the close stairs.
Julia
stepped at his heels,
heart pound
ing
with
anticipation
and claustrophobia
.
It was
gaggingly
confined with Paul.
He pushed open
the obstinate
door
at the
top of the deathly narrow steps
and e
ntered the hushed at
tic, then
beckoned to her.
And
Julia was back in the tu
rret, like a forbidden secret.
How different from when she’d come here with Will.
She
looked guardedly around
as if
expecting
a
challenge
from someone
or
a
ghostly
apparition.
I
n a way, she did. Esp
ecially after the disquieting
sensation
she’d had
during the storm down
in the murky hall.
And that mist, whatever it was, on the stairs.
Maybe she’
d
missed something up here.
After all,
this
spacious
attic
might be
filled with potential.
More than she knew, no doubt.
Paul
didn’t pause
at any of the chests
or costume rack
s
.
Darting
over the floor like a mouse who knew where the cheese was kept
, he went
right past
all
of
these
.
His certain steps took him
to where th
e massive brick chimney jutted
through the
stout
beams at one corner of the wide room
on its way through the roof
.
Creeping behind him, she
peered around his back.
The angle of
the ceiling
narrowed here.
H
e
bent
down
to crawl
into the farthest corner
betwee
n
the
ceiling and
the
floor.
Then she
saw it, a cubby hole
lost in blackness and cobwebs at the side of the
chimney between the rough logs
that made up the wall.
A
quiver shot through
her.
“Is that it?”
By way of reply, he
drew out a small
leather-bound
trunk, then
scooted back to set it on the floor.
“
Oh, Paul.
How did you find it
?”
He ducked his dank cap
guiltily.
“You were casing the house t
o steal from
Mr.
Wentworth
,
after all he’s done for you?”
“NNN
––N
o more.”
“I should hope not.”
Paul
wiped away some of the dust to reveal a tarnished
brass plate
above the lock
on the side of the trunk
.
The initials read C. W. W.
“Cole William Wentworth,” she murmured in disbelief. Reaching out to the rough wall, she steadied herself.
Paul
fell to
work
again
with his
pen knife.
The lock gave way
and he lifted
the lid. “LLL––Look.” He waved a grimy paw
at the
dim
contents
.
A
more potent
charge
ran
through her as she stared
into the trunk
. Her throat caught.
“Cole––”
S
he
knelt shakily.
Reaching
inside
, she
lift
ed
out the folded red coat that she’d seen, even felt, in her dreams,
a sacred object
connecting
her to him
.
She held it up with trembling fingers,
smoothing the fine silk and
turning the
jacket
to view it from
every side.
The cloth in the front was sliced
and stained deeper
crimson.
A smaller slash had cut through
the sleeve.
“Oh
,
God.
H
e was stabbed
.
T
wice
.
”
Paul looked on with interest
as if he hadn’t
noticed
these details
, b
ut s
he
no longer
paid
any
attention to him
.
He faded into nothingness as she
clutched the precious garment
to her
heart
.
“
Why was the box
hidden?
”
“TTT
––T
o
kkk
––
keep you from finding it.”
“
Me?
Why?
”
He fell silent
, seemingly not inclined
to say more.
What could
she
possibly know
that
was
a threat to anyone
? Not only that,
t
he j
acket alone couldn’t prove
she had
been
with Cole
in some mystical way, nor
validate
her
visions or whatever they were
.
A
glimmer
of hope
returned from
her memory of
the
first time
she’d been with
Cole
in that dream state
.
S
he slipped her fingers
in
to
the
right
pocket
––
nothing.
She felt around in the left
pocket
with increasing urgenc
y. A
lso
e
mpty
.
“But he put the pea
rl
button from my glove in here.
I saw
him
.
”
She had no ver
ifiable link, only this treasured
cloth that had once been warm with the vital heat from his living
,
breathing self.
In
her grief
, she sat
hugging the coat.
“
Cole.
Dearest, Cole.
”
A
thought
came to her
.
“
Paul, d
id you take the pearl
?”
The little thief
made no answer.
W
inking at tears
, she lifted
her head
and
ran her eyes over
the attic
.
Paul was gone.
She detected the
faint
creak of the door closing and
the t
urn of a lock
.
“Paul!”
Still h
olding Cole’s coat,
Julia
bolted t
o her feet.
She raced across the
boards
to the
door and banged her fist
on the solid
wood.
It
never occurred to her
the attic
locked
from the outside
,
even
though she’d seen the black fitting.
“Let me out
!
Let me out!” she shouted over and over
,
bruising her
knuckles on the obstinate barrier
.
B
ut
no
one
heard her in this vast house.
A
t least, no one who came.
L
ike a caged bird
at the top of a tower
, she
tore from window to window,
strugg
ling
to shove the
heavy weight up eve
n an inch, b
ut t
he le
a
d casings were
stuck, lik
ely had been time out of mind.
The
uneven
cracks beneath a few
of the windows
were
the utmost
rise
they
grudgingly
yield
ed
to her frantic efforts
.
Sore and weary
, she
curled
on the hard
floor
.
C
lutching
Cole’s
coat, she
tried
not to think about being stuck in here
.
She wouldn’t suffocate
, she assured herself
.
Air floated to her from the slivers beneath the windows, crevices in the joists,
and
chinks of plaster loosened between the logs inside the brick walls.
“You can breathe,
” she said
, fighting to slow her
pants
.
Surely
Will would
search for her
when he
returned from wherever he was off to
, though that mightn’t be
for hours given his dark mood.
If he were standing
below her
in the hall of his apartment and
she yelled
loud
ly
, he ought t
o at least hear a muffled cry.
But how would she kn
ow when to try again? Her throat
was already raw from futile shouting
.
She couldn’t keep it up indefinitely
.
Why had Paul locked her in
, the rat
?
Come to think of it, how had he known of her
feelings
for Cole when he
’d
invited h
er up here in the first place?
She supposed Lyle must have blabbed.
Someone had
,
because she’d never confided her heart’s dearest wish to Paul.
If he’d
trapped her
in the attic
to avoid
a
confession over
taking
the pearl, she was willing to let him go without pressing for punishment.
Lord knows
he
was slow
enough
.
He’d been forced to learn
street wiles
to survive,
which must be hard to unlearn with his limited capacity.
Besides, who in their wildest dreams
would
ever
believe she’d seen Cole pu
t the button
in
his pocket?
Will might
, but
he seemed to be
picking and choosing what to believe.
“Cole,” she whimpered,
fighting the urge to pound at the door
again
and claw at the walls.
She buried
her
face
in the scarlet cloth
, inhaling
the
spicy
whiff of his cologne.
Odd, she hadn’t noticed
the scent
before now
, or how much like Will’s it was
.
She breathed in, comforted by a sense of him, and
closed her eyes.
Now and then she opened
them to glance through
the windows.
Time lost meaning as
minutes flowed into hours.