The sound echoed like a gunshot and made Meredith jump. She stared at the wooden board her father had made her and a funny tingle pulled at the hairs on the back of her neck. She stared it a moment, little pieces of memory trickling back.
Hollowed out the insides, Pa had said. You just slide this section back. Meant to keep the pieces in there but they don’t fit. He’d chuckled as he tried to fit the hand-carved pieces past the narrow opening. He’d made them too big. He’d shrugged. No matter. Now you have a secret place to put things. Your ma says every little girl needs a secret place.
She’d been maybe ten years old then. She shook her head. It had been under her nose the entire time.
Meredith rose to her feet and walked over to the chessboard. She picked it up and hugged it to her. Blood rushed and pounded in her ears until she feared Hunter would hear and wonder why, but she had no plans on telling him. No doubt he would take it from her, then try to send her away like a child who had no business meddling in the affairs of men. Well this was her affair. It was her father and it was her right to prove his innocence.
And she’d be damned if she’d let anyone—Hunter included—stop her from doing that.
If Hunter noticed anything amiss, he gave no indication. He jostled Rory, then glanced her way. “C’mon. I need to set out to find Yucton and I can’t leave you here unprotected.”
Meredith didn’t kick up a fuss. She had no desire to stay here sharing space with Mr. Platt’s dead body.
The clouds had shifted and thinned as they stepped outside allowing a sliver of moonlight reflected off the snow and lit their way up Main Street to Doc Whyte’s. Hunter kept up a dialogue with Rory in an effort to keep him conscious. As they stumbled inside the office, Kincaid jumped to his feet, gun drawn before all three of them made it through the door.
“What happened?” He reholstered his gun and rushed forward to help with Rory. They wrestled him onto the table Vernon had occupied earlier.
“Yucton’s been taken,” Hunter said. “How are your tracking skills?”
Mr. Kincaid took the time to look affronted by Hunter’s question. “I’m a bounty hunter, what do you think?”
“Then saddle up. Because we’ve got to go hunt down Yucton and whoever took him.”
“Think we both know who took him,” Mr. Kincaid said, picking his jacket and hat from the peg near the door.
Meredith stared at the bounty hunter. “You know about the Syndicate?”
Mr. Kincaid returned her level gaze with one of his own as he shrugged into his coat, but didn’t answer. He transferred his attention back to Hunter. “We best get going.”
“Going where?” Doc Whyte came out of his back office. He nodded toward Hunter. “Your father is holding on.” Despite the news, his tone didn’t convey much hope. It was just a matter of time.
Hunter nodded and gave the doctor a brief rundown of what had transpired at the jail. “Can you take Meredith to Bertram’s?”
Doc Whyte waved him off. “Done, done. Everything’s taken care of here.”
Hunter turned to her, his hands holding her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She remained silent.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” He leaned down and, heedless of Doc Whyte standing behind them, pressed an urgent kiss on her lips. “I will explain everything, just stay out of sight until I get back. Promise?”
She didn’t respond. Her mouth still burned from the kiss.
Then he was gone.
She turned to Doc Whyte. “I should stay here.” She held a hand up when he made to protest. “I know what Hunter said, but he also told me to stay out of sight. Bertram’s apartments are farther up the street. Plus, you’ve got your hands full here. You could use the help.”
“I suppose...” Doc Whyte didn’t sound convinced.
“What if something happened to Mr. Donovan or Rory while you were escorting me to Bertram?”
To his credit, Rory managed a well-timed groan, necessitating Doc’s attention. “All right, all right. Truth is I could use some help.”
“Perfect,” Meredith forced a smile. “I’ll sit with Mr. Donovan while you tend to Rory.”
Doc Whyte, already engrossed in examining Hunter’s deputy, nodded absently toward the adjoining room where Vernon was housed. “Fine, fine.”
Meredith hurried into the other room. She sat on the low stool by Vernon’s bedside and flipped the chessboard over on her lap. The compartment her father had created was well hidden, seamless. The perfect hiding spot.
She pressed against it and slowly slid the back away from the edges a few inches then held the board up, giving it a hard shake. A piece of paper tumbled out and fell into her lap. She set the chessboard down and picked up the paper, unfolding it. Her hand shook as she held it up to the lamp next to the bed. It was a legend of sorts. A list of six surnames, each with a corresponding code. The same codes used on the missing ledger sheet.