

At Bull Run

A Jack Blackwood mystery

By Paul Westwood

Additional Text by Ann Robinson

Copyright 2011 Paul Westwood

Published at Smashwords

Book cover source is from a

September 6, 1862 Harper's Weekly illustration

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Prologue

Gaining consciousness, Lieutenant James Folks awoke to darkness. Groggily, he reached around to find that his hands were tied behind his back. Stretching his numb hands as far as they could go, he could just feel the stomach of the girl lying next to him on the bed. He mumbled frantically through the gag wrapped around his mouth, but she did not respond. Her stomach was wet, but from what, Folks could not tell. He suspected she was dead since he could not hear her breathe. Trying to roll off the bed, he discovered that his feet had also been trussed tightly.

The last thing he remembered was entering her small home and finding the front door ajar. He thought that she must have been expecting him. He had walked in feeling elated. She was a beautiful girl and had taught him pleasures that he had never known even existed. He remembered walking into the room and seeing her tied up, looking at him with pleading eyes. After that, there had been a blow to the back of his head, and he fell into darkness.

James was forced back into the present by hearing approaching footsteps. He pulled desperately on his bonds again but still could not free his hands. He heard a man's heavy breathing and the presence of someone standing over him. A match suddenly flared in the dark, and an oil lamp next to the bed was lit. James blinked hard in the sudden glare of light. He could see a man wearing a black hangman's hood. Two slits were cut out for eyes which were hidden in shadow. Seized with terror, James pulled harder on the ropes and tried to twist away. He managed to turn his body towards the girl, and his eyes widened with terror as he saw that she was nude and covered in blood.

The man laughed as he saw the struggling. He pulled out a long cavalry sword and said, "You shall be good sport for my sword, Lieutenant. Don't bother to cry out or struggle. No one can hear you now."

The blade rose and cut cruelly across the lieutenant's chest. He screamed as loud as he could through his gag. It came out as a muffled grunt, and he arched his body up as the sword was raised again. The cords bit tightly into his wrists. The red fires of pain swirled in front of his eyes.

"Now feel my punishment," the hooded man whispered.
Chapter 1

With his arm lying loosely over his eyes, Jack Blackwood desperately tried to fall asleep on his sweat-stained bed. The morning summer sunlight glared through his worn, moth-holed curtains and shined directly into his eyes. He groaned and turned away from the window and drew the dirty covers over his head. He felt like hell. Swallowing hard, the back of his throat felt dusty and unbelievably dry. Summer had been hot this year, and it drove many men to drink. He was honest with himself and realized that he was one of those men. He had spent the night at the local saloon and had drunk whiskey until he could drink no more. Somehow, Jack had come home, though he couldn't be certain what route he'd taken to get there, and fallen into his bed before passing out.

The faint smell of fried food reached his nostrils. Jack's stomach growled as he thought of hot eggs and bacon. After a brief battle between sleep and hunger, his stomach won. He crawled out of bed. He clumsily opened the door and staggered, still half-drunk, in the direction of the kitchen.

Ezra looked up from his breakfast and frowned as his partner entered, holding himself up against the wall. "You look terrible," he commented blandly. Ezra, an ex-slave, was Jack's business partner of many years, and by now wasn't surprised to see him still drunk in the morning.

Jack felt ill and noticed that his hands were shaking. The pounding in his head was getting worse, and he grabbed the kitchen chair with one hand. He rubbed his grizzled chin before replying, "I feel like hell, Ezra. Is there any food left?"

"I was hoping you would find the strength and crawl out of that bed of yours. I made some extra food just in case you took a chance and decided to face the day."

"I thank you," the detective replied graciously as he could manage.

"Go ahead and sit down," Ezra said as he rose. He grabbed a chipped mug and poured out some coffee for Jack. "I'll go and make a plate for you."

"Coffee would be good - plenty of coffee."

His partner nodded and placed a full mug in front of Jack, who began to cautiously sip at the hot drink. Ezra then scooped some eggs and bacon out for Jack and put it before him.

Jack put his coffee cup down and studied the plate of greasy food before him. His stomach churned uncomfortably. "I'm not sure if I can even eat right now. It looks good, mind you, but my stomach says otherwise."

"Take it easy and have a few bites. Then you'll find out if you're hungry or not. There's plenty of time to find out."

The detective ate slowly at first and then began to eat greedily until the plate was empty. He crudely wiped his chin with his sleeve and drank two more cups of coffee. He began to feel better and was sure after some further sleep he could manage to blink without hurt.

Ezra watched in silence while smoking a cigarette.

After Jack finished, he pushed the plate away and leaned back in his chair. He patted his heavy stomach in appreciation. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought." His voice had a trace of embarrassment for he knew that his friend was never a hard drinker.

"I hope you are feeling better now," Ezra remarked. "It's time you forget that girl and move on with your life."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack said lamely. Last spring he had taken a case concerning the missing son of a retired congressman. He had become romantically involved with the congressman's daughter –a woman named Faith Hanson - but was forced to break off the relationship. It had been hard to leave her but he had no choice in the matter.

"Don't lie to me," his partner snapped. "You've been moping around here and drinking yourself sick every night. The money is getting low, and I don't look forward to living in the gutter again."

"Oh, we aren't doing that bad," Jack lied. His nervous stomach began to churn violently and he gulped nervously. He knew that Ezra was right but did not want to admit it.

Ezra handed over a cigarette and lit it for his partner with a single swipe of the match. "Have you looked into our account books lately? With your constant drinking, we're getting near to being broke again. I'm not sure if we can even make next month's rent."

Jack stood up quickly, his face flushed with anger. "Damn it, man! You're worse than an old woman. Now leave me be."

"I'm not your servant. I'm just telling you what I'm seeing with my own eyes. And right now I'm seeing a drunk who is feeling very sorry for himself."

"Something is bound to turn up. It always does sooner or later." Jack felt dizzy and sat down again, the room spinning. He puffed hard on the cigarette, trying to gain his composure back.

"Something already has turned up for us," Ezra said in a low voice. "I just hope you can handle it right now. While you were sleeping it off this morning, Henry Garrett stopped by to see if you were around."

"What did Henry want of me?" The detective asked. Garrett was an old friend who was in command of the City Watch, and Jack hadn't seen him since the last case. Perhaps the captain was still angry that a murdered had gone free.

"Oh, Henry told me a little about it. It looks like another case of disappearance. You know it seems that Washington isn't becoming safe for anyone these days. I told Henry we would be there as soon as possible."

"You could have woken me up."

Ezra snorted derisively and said, "Henry was a little worried when I told him that you were still sleeping. He guessed soon enough that you were out late last night getting drunk. He knows you as well as I do."

Jack felt angry hearing of the two of them talking behind his back like that. "That old fool worries about me as much as you do. Why don't the both of you stay out of my business?"

"Henry may be an old man, but you aren't much younger. I'll make it my business if I want to get paid anytime soon."

Jack stubbed out his cigarette and studied his friend's face but didn't say anything.

Ezra looked him in the eyes, his face softening. "I know you're hurting something bad inside. Some men put a brave face on their heartache. Other men just try to kill the pain inside with whiskey. I know you'll eventually come around or die trying." He no longer met Jack's gaze and fiddled with his matches instead. He then lit another cigarette for himself and began gathering up the dishes on the table.

The detective smiled, suddenly feeling less dizzy. "Those are some pretty words my friend. I'm not sure I can even believe a single word of it."

Ezra returned his gaze and almost imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care what you think. I just want to keep a roof over my head and keep on eating. We're partners in this business and I can't make any money without you doing your part of the job."

Jack reflected to himself that his friend was right: It must be near impossible for an ex-slave to get work as a detective. "You really are a heartless bastard when you get down to it. I'll go clean up first and get ready to visit Henry." Jack steadily got up on his feet and made his way back to his bedroom. He still felt bad inside, but felt he could function enough to make it over to the City Watch. He also knew that his friend was right about the girl, but right now he didn't care either way.

With a smile, Ezra began washing the plates.

Miss Keller's diary, excerpted

July 13, morning

It seems so long since my dear James has been gone. When he decided to enlist I was so proud and nervous, and I prayed for the best. His father did everything he could to help, doing his best to assure our families about the future. I kept myself from worrying by sewing and knitting some personal items for James. I thought he might like some gloves and a muffler. The weather was cold enough then as they were getting ready, but things have changed so much. Now that I'm getting ready to surprise my darling with these presents, the sky is hot and blue and humid. No matter the weather, my spirits cannot be dampened: I am thrilled to leave New York and I must admit the idea of seeing the Capital is very exciting.

But if I am honest with myself, I am not sure how I feel about seeing James. I am sure being a soldier has changed him somewhat, but will it have changed him enough, so that I truly love him. James and I do love each other, I know. His family and mine have known each other for years. And when he proposed to me, I was relieved, since I knew my family would be pleased. But I always wished I had felt more for him. Now that he has been gone for so long, I am anxious that he will be able to tell, and see that he deserves more.

I am glad that Mister Folks is my chaperon for the trip. He has his business to attend to and although I know he wants to see his son James as well as I do, I think my nervousness will be more easily ignored by him than it would be by someone else. Not to imply that Mister Folks is insensitive. Really I think he is mostly a typical business man. I had thought that my mother would insist that I have another woman to accompany me, but we have known the Folkses so long I assume he'll treat me like his daughter. Also it is nice to have a man to walk with through the train stations, since we came this way. I think my parents were hoping that we'd take a stage, but really that would take such a long time, and the train service can be dependable.

Later

_A most upsetting thing has occurred. James is nowhere to be found! I am so upset I know I shall not relate the story accurately but after we came to Washington we eventually managed to find the 27_ th _New York. It was a frustrating trip through the city to get there though. We had no chance of seeing anything properly on our way to the camp. As we rode through the city, my heart leapt up when I first saw a soldier the same build as James, but then I realized it was someone else. There are so many soldiers in the town, all looking smart and ready in their uniforms, that I hurt my neck turning it so often to see if I could spot him. Mister Folks, who has been here before and recently too I come to find out, did a fair job of locating the camp once we asked an officer where they were. I could tell he was getting a little bit out of temper at times with the slowness of our carriage. It was the only one we could find, strangely enough, when we left the train. Perhaps all the Army wagons I see were once carriages._

Once we did drive up to the gate of the camp, I was so nervous. It had been so long since I had seen James. I was not really sure I really did know what he looked like after all. And there are so many pretty girls about the town I'm not sure how I compare to them. Well anyway, James was not there, otherwise I'd be writing about how glad he was to see me, how surprised and happy, and how we held each other and that all my doubts about marrying him were gone, melted away like some snow on an April morning. His captain said he had not yet returned from the previous night. Mister Folks and I are now stationed at a hotel waiting to get word from this captain. He says he will get in touch with us the moment James returns. Honestly, the captain, an uncouth man if I ever saw one, I think his name was Elspeth, was almost as angry as Mister Folks was on learning that James was not in the camp. As for James's father, I have never seen him so full of fury. He threatened to hire an investigator to find James. The captain cautioned that there was no reason to jump to conclusions, but I think Mister Folks just might have. Perhaps he also (and maybe I am jumping to a conclusion now) is a little mad at himself for not having visited before, like when he was in Washington the last time. He says there would never have been time for it. So, my nervous state remains, and I continue to wait to see James.

Chapter 2

The City Watch was the police department of the city of Washington. They were housed in an old weather-stained brick building that should have been torn down years ago. Normally it could hold just a handful of prisoners, but it was now expected to handle the mass of lawbreakers who had come to Washington in the wake of the soldiers. The worst of the camp followers sold alcohol and women, while the better ones provided several personal services for the soldiers. Some of the soldiers had never left home, or been away from the scrutiny of family and neighbors. With the added temptations, crime had risen dramatically. When Jack and Ezra rode up to the building, there was a long line of visitors waiting to see those detained from the night before.

Jack carefully tied his horse to the hitching post, and Ezra followed suit. They pushed their way through the small crowd waiting outside the building and received a number of dirty looks with a few suspecting they were trying to cut ahead in the line. Jack mumbled something about being on official business, and they passed through the front doors into the office lobby.

The main clerk behind the desk was fruitlessly trying to keep the crowd under some semblance of control. He exasperatedly shoved the visitors back away from the desk and shouted at them as he determined who was next in line. With the summer heat it was stagnant inside the building; the smell of sweat hung heavily in the air. Jack found it hard to breathe. The noise and press of humanity made his head hurt. Tempers were short, and several people looked as if they were about to come to blows.

Jack gave a quick nod to the clerk, who motioned them to continue past the swinging gate. The clerk had seen them often enough to know they were there to see Henry Garrett.

Garrett's office was small and crowded with piles of official papers and well-worn law books. He didn't even look up as they entered, but continued to study the papers on his desk. "Just put those reports on the desk," he mumbled with a pencil hanging loosely in his mouth. His face was furrowed with concentration and didn't even look up at Jack as he drew up a chair and sat down. It was clear that Henry was overworked.

Jack cleared his throat loudly and Henry gave a sudden start as he looked at him. "Oh, it's you - and Ezra. It's good to see the both of you again." His voice was quick with nervous energy as he started to complain about his troubles. "This damn war is giving me nothing but headaches. Did you see that line of people outside? One would think the good folks in this city could keep their hands off the whores. And I never saw so many drunks in my life. But that is no problem of yours - I'm glad to see that you finally had the chance to make it over to see me."

Jack felt a little embarrassed as he replied, "Well, it's never a problem to see you Henry. I'm just sorry that we couldn't make it here sooner."

Henry shot Ezra a glance as he said, "Your partner told me you were sleeping off a drunken binge. I don't understand how you can do that to yourself day after day."

Ignoring the condemnation, the detective replied, "Well I'm here now – you mentioned something about a job?"

"I'm sure your partner already told you the little I said to him. I thought it better to wait to see the both of you and tell you both the whole story. No point of repeating myself, if you know what I mean. I had a visitor this morning, a father who came down from New York, and he's looking for his missing son." A slow smile crossed Garrett's face as he waited for Jack's response.

Jack said sarcastically, "A missing son? Doesn't anyone write a note or leave a message these days? After my last case, I'm not sure I can do another like it."

Garrett laughed. "From what I've heard, you don't seem to have much choice in the matter."

"My financial difficulties should be no worry of yours," the detective snapped back.

Henry ignored the ill-tempered response and continued, "This time it's a little different - the wayward son is in the army, posted here in Washington. He disappeared just last night. It seems that this lieutenant has been charged with deserting, but no one can seem to find him to press the charges. The father went to the camp, but no one is admitting anything about his son's whereabouts. Out of frustration he came to see me even though I have little sway over military law."

Ezra asked, "And why are you asking us to look into this problem? Some of your men would be better suited to searching the town."

Henry waved his hands at the piles of paper on his desk. "You saw that line of people outside. Frankly, we're too busy here to spend time tracking down a missing soldier. My men are overworked, and anyway it's normally something the army should handle, but the father wants someone to start looking into it right now. He has enough money that his words have some sway with me. I told him I knew just the right man for the job – someone who wasn't afraid of starting trouble and knows his way around the army. I told him that you were the right bastard for the job."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jack replied with a laugh. "Now what unit did he go missing from? Some are stricter than others about giving punishment to deserters."

"Oh no, I'm not going to tell you the story – I can't spare you a moment longer of my time. Better that you hear it for yourself from the father. I told them to wait at their hotel until I could locate you."

"Them?" Ezra queried.

"If you must know, the soldier's fiancée came with her future father in-law to see her brave lieutenant." Garrett seemed to begrudge them even this small bit of information.

Jack eyebrows went up upon hearing there was a young woman involved. "Is she pretty?" he asked.

"And Ezra told me that your heart was still broken up over that last woman. I guess he was wrong."

His partner looked away from his friend's sudden vicious stare and pretended to study the street outside.

"Henry, don't you go and start listening to Ezra. He won't be happy until he sees me married again. He thinks it will stop me from drinking too much. Funny thing is I never see him trying to go and get hitched. He's too busy visiting the whorehouses every night."

"Only when we're making enough money," the black man commented blandly.

Garrett slapped his knee and laughed loudly. He gave his eyes a wipe with his sleeve and said, "Well, I'm glad you two are still getting along so well."

Jack looked at Henry sourly. "For now we are. Now where do we go to meet this father?"

"They are staying just around the corner at a hotel called The Willows. The father wanted to be close enough to the Watch to wait for any developments. I gather that this hotel doesn't meet his normal standards, but he is willing to make some sacrifice to his comfort."

"So he is a rich father – even better. What's the name of this character I'm supposed to see?"

"His name is Charles Folks. You are expected there. Just give your name and you'll be taken to his suite."

"Not that it matters, but what is the name of the girl?"

Garrett looked at his friend slyly and said, "Not that it matters, you say. You are a fool with the women, and they'll be the death of you. But I'll tell you anyways – it's Anna Keller."

"That's a pretty name. I hope she'll live up to it."

"She does"

Jack smiled momentarily. "I thank you for the job reference."

"I wouldn't do anything less for an old friend of mine."

"We'll be on our way and leave you to your work." Jack rose from his chair to leave.

Garrett raised a hand and said, "Now wait a minute there, Jack. I'm an old man, and I know you don't like to take my advice. This whole thing doesn't seem right to me. Be careful and take this case nice and slowly."

The detective looked at his friend with some pity. It was obvious that Henry's work was finally getting to him. Perhaps it was time for Garrett to take a rest from his duties. "Now Henry, what exactly are you getting at?"

"I'm not sure - it's just a hunch. From what I was told by Mister Folks, the army is being awfully secretive about this disappearance. They either don't know anything or are hiding something from him. You'll know what I mean once you are done interviewing him. I don't want to tell you anything else right now - you'll probably just think it's my imagination."

"I usually trust your hunches," Jack lied. "You can rest assured that we'll be careful."

"I've heard that one before."

"We'll take our leave now and let you be alone with your papers." Ezra put on his best tone of concern. "Make sure to take a break before you need glasses from the eye strain."

"Now get on out you two," Henry growled.

The ex-slave winked at Henry as he followed Jack out of the office. Garrett gave them a dismissive wave and went back to reading the report on his desk.

Leaving the horses at the City Watch, they walked the two blocks to the Willows Hotel. Jack stayed quiet, lost in his own thoughts. It was too early in the day. He felt as if he needed a drink to gather his wits. The sun was getting high in the sky, too bright for his headache. Sweat began to run profusely down his forehead and he wiped his brow with a dirty handkerchief. With shaking hands, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke tasted dry, and after a few puffs, he tossed the cigarette into the street. He wasn't sure if he was up to doing a case right now, but he knew that Ezra was right about their money situation.

"Jack," his partner interrupted, "what was Garrett getting at about his hunches?"

The detective replied, "He's just overwhelmed with work right now - too much work and not enough time for drinking. He'll be alright once he took a few days off to rest."

"Henry is usually right."

"If you say so."

The Willows Hotel turned out to be a pleasant enough establishment that catered to the middle class. In the lobby it was clean and neatly appointed, with simple furnishings. A dark rug with only a few threadbare spots covered the dark wood floor. The old clerk took Jack's business card in his liver-spotted hands and beckoned for the both of them to follow. They were led up a flight of stairs where they climbed to the third and highest floor of the building. The clerk led them to the suite and Jack tipped the old man a nickel.

Jack then looked at his partner and said in a low voice, "I was expecting something a little more posh for a rich father."

"It's not that bad of a hotel," Ezra replied. "Better than any place I've ever stayed at."

The detective knocked on the door with a quick rap.

Muffled from the thick oak door, a loud booming voice answered, "Come in."

Jack pushed the door open and entered the room with Ezra following behind. They were greeted by the sight of a large, powerful man sitting down next to a young woman. The man was wearing a light brown suit that wasn't ostentatious but merely well-made. Even sitting in the chair, he was obviously very tall and muscular. His hair was almost all black with just a touch of gray in the temples. Jack guessed that he would be in his early forties. His face was neither handsome nor ugly, but it had the strong determined jaw of an experienced businessman who was used to getting his way.

The woman, at first glance, appeared to be a young girl in her late teens. She was very petite and had her thick black hair set in tight curls. The nose was straight and her face had the perfect oval shape of an artist's painting. The shape of her figure was hard to tell with the current fashion of dresses, but for all her young facial features it was still the body of a fully-formed woman.

Jack and Ezra politely removed their hats and gave a small bow in her direction.

"I'm Charles Folks and you must be Mister Blackwood and Mister Miller," the man said as he rose from his chair. He motioned to the girl and said, "This is Miss Anna Keller, the fiancée of my son."

Jack shook Folks's hand - the grip was hard and unyielding. He could tell this was a man who demanded obedience from his employees. "It's good to meet you, sir. As you have been told by Garrett, my name is Jack Blackwood. This here is my partner, Ezra Miller."

Charles Folks merely raised an eyebrow when he heard Ezra's name. Jack was impressed, as a lot of Northerners had a hard time dealing with an ex-slave because of his background, his race, and the fact that he worked as a detective.

Jack continued and said, "My friend Garrett told me you were in need of the services that I can provide."

"I like a man who comes right to the point. Go ahead and sit down, and I'll tell the both of you what I know about all of this."

They found some chairs to sit on and waited for Charles Folks to compose himself. Jack noticed that the young girl looked at the businessman with some awe. Even with her expression set in lines of worry, the detective could not help but be drawn by her natural beauty.

Folks cleared his throat and began to speak. "I'm a stock broker from New York City, and I must say I'm a fairly good one at that. My son James was sent to some of the finest schools in the city, and I was hoping he would agree to follow in my footsteps." His voice became tinged with regret. "Things were going well enough for him, and James was about to enter my firm. After he finished his last year at college he was to be given a position of clerk. He was also to be married this year to young Anna here."

"But then the war started?" Ezra asked. Jack could always count on his partner to state the obvious.

"As you say, sir, this damned war broke out, and he got the patriotic fever to join up. I could have bought out any conscription that may have passed, but he wouldn't hear of it and went and volunteered to join the cavalry. You know how young people are these days."

Jack smiled to himself, remembering the day he left his own home to join the army. He too was looking for adventure and a chance to escape the domination of his father. "Yes, I'm afraid I do."

"Well, I know some officers in the army and managed to get him in with a good division. He was transferred to the 27th New York Cavalry, and they were sent here to Washington with the rest of the Army of the Potomac. That was just a few months ago. He hasn't been back home since."

Anna spoke for the first time with a sad but sweet voice, "I did miss my James so much. I was looking forward to seeing him again on this trip."

Folks nodded curtly in her direction. "We all miss James. We received some letters from him, but that wasn't enough for me. When my firm wanted someone to go to Washington on a business deal, I jumped at the chance to do it. I wanted the trip to be a surprise for James, so I told him nothing of it. My wife Martha is too timorous to go, but Anna here begged to come along with me."

The girl nodded her head vigorously. "I've never been to the Capitol before, and I was hoping I could spend some time with James before he was sent off to war."

Upon hearing those words, Jack felt a pang of jealousy. He could only imagine the type of time she would want to spend with her fiancée. "I see," he said blandly.

Charles Folks continued on with his booming voice and said, "Well, we made it here last night, and I even managed to get a room at a fine hotel downtown. We had a quick breakfast early in the morning, and then we took a carriage out to his camp. At the gate I immediately asked to see my son. But no one there would give me a straight answer of his whereabouts. I had to make quite an uproar before we could see the colonel. His name is Franklin. He seemed mighty embarrassed, but he told us that James had gone missing that previous night. He seemed truly sorry but could offer us no further information."

Lost in his thoughts, Jack kept quiet. Normally the colonel should have deferred them to the provost-marshals.

"When was the last time he was seen by anyone?" Ezra asked.

Charles Folks quickly answered, "He was apparently given the evening free yesterday, and he went out of the camp on his own. After that, no one seems to know where he went. If they did, they were not forthcoming with me."

Jack looked back and forth between Charles and Anna before speaking. Some questions could anger clients, so he carefully picked his words. "Mister Folks, I have to ask some questions that may shock you. I don't want to Miss Keller here to get upset by the nature of these inquiries."

"Go ahead, Mister Blackwood. Anna here will understand."

"What kind of boy is your son?" the detective asked uneasily.

Charles Folks looked slightly taken aback by the question. "James is a good son who has never hidden anything from me. He has always been dutiful to his family and the church."

"But does he have any kind of wild streak? For example, you didn't seem too happy with him joining the army and leaving a good job opportunity with your firm."

"That is true enough, Mister Blackwood, but we had a long discussion about the matter and eventually came to an agreement. Once his enlistment was up, he told me he was willing to return to work at the firm."

"I see," Jack said thoughtfully. James's decision to join up may have been rash, but the boy still wanted the security of his father's wealth. "What type of friends did he have in New York?"

"Mister Blackwood, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"As I said before, I mean no offense. Look at it from his point of view. Your son was free from the family for the first time in his life. He is in a strange town looking for some type of excitement. There are plenty of bad people here offering just about anything to a man with a few dollars to spend. Everyone is trying to make money off of this war, and your son may have run afoul of some evil influences."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked innocently. She looked confused by the turn of the conversation. "James was always true to me." Her confusion and naiveté were painfully sweet.

"Well, miss, he may have come under the sway of alcohol or have been robbed for his money. I really can't tell you anything more until I start asking around."

Charles Folks face was ashen, while Anna looked faint with anxiety.

Ezra said, "You must understand that we are only asking these questions with the best intentions in mind."

"I suggest you pay my fee of ten dollars a day," Jack said firmly. "You will write me a letter of introduction to this colonel. To start, I will go visit the camp. I promise I will find him soon enough."

Miss Keller's diary

July 13, Later (again)

A detective has been to see us to ask about James. It seems he is considered "missing" as opposed to just not come home for the night. The detective has a partner, a black man. I suppose I should become more used to this the further south we have come. So far I have only seen Negroes as servants in wealthy homes and never as professional people, like this Mister Miller. Mister Blackwood, the detective, seemed to put Mister Folks at ease. He appeared more relaxed knowing that the whereabouts of his son were not totally left up to the Army. Mister Blackwood seems confident, perhaps a bit disorganized, but in command. I am sure that he has dealt with a lot of cases over the years so one more must seem nothing new to him but all this experience has made him tactless. I should not presume to be so judgmental, but in fact Mister Miller seems the more well-bred of the two detectives, and just a little bit better dressed. I imagine that he is more aware of his differences, as a Negro, and so he tries harder than his partner.

Honestly who knows what has happened to James. As much as I miss him, I might prefer if he went missing forever, and then I'd never have to get married. Oh certainly, I'd love to be married, I'm just not sure that James is the most suitable man for me, but I'd hate to hurt his feelings for anything in the world. I do love him; I just wish things could go back to the way they were before we became engaged.

Mister Blackwood, while more than able to investigate, did not do much to take away my anxiety about James. I know this sounds unreasonable, but it would be nice to know when we could see him, or how soon he could be found. But I must realize this is a large city, and James could be anywhere. I can't imagine that he would desert his regiment; his pride is too large for him to do that. And he would never disgrace his family by leaving the Army like that. The most logical thing I can think of is that he became ill somewhere, and someone is taking care of him but doesn't know how to reach his division to tell them that he is alright. If that is the case, I could help him get better if only we knew where he is. It is so frustrating to be so close to him and not know where he is, and to be able to get no messages to him, that we are here to see him. I guess the idea of our surprising him is gone now, especially since Mister Folks has hired detectives to find him.

I still have not seen enough of the Capital. This nation is great, no doubt, but this hotel seems to me not so wonderful, in fact, it is the same as any other in New York. Yet I am so close to other places I have never seen. I assume that Mister Folks will not let me out by myself to see the sights. It is selfish of me I know to want to leave while James is still missing, but I was so looking forward to seeing the monuments and even more of the Army. Now that I have seen the camp I think it is magnificent, and I want to see just how big the Army is and how many men, horses and wagons it will take to fight this war.

It is an amazing and yet a frightening thing to think about: how many people it will take to fight this war. I feel two ways about it, or more than two ways really. I agree with the president that the nation cannot be divided. Also my family has long believed that slavery ought not to be tolerated. And while I am proud of James and his readiness to enlist, I also wish that the issue would just go away and let us live our lives without making people have to change everything about the way they live, just for this one thing. Maybe I really wish that James would have chosen to marry me first, instead of enlist. I don't know why things did not happen that way, but now I am jealous of the war, even though I am still undecided about marriage to him in general.

Chapter 3

It took several asking of directions before they located the 27th Division encampment. It was on the eastern side of the city and was hidden in a large field among several other camps. A rough paddock kept the horses enclosed, and these were looked after by civilian laborers. White tents ran the length of the camp, which was outlined by a roughly cut wooden fence. Several soldiers could be seen sitting on primitively made chairs outside their tents. A smoky scent of cooking permeated the air. The sign above the entrance was crude, but read '27th New York Cavalry Division – Too Far From Home - Too Close For Comfort.'

A young-looking corporal with a friendly face kept guard. He was a compact fellow who stood with his shoulders slumped over. He lazily eyed them as they rode up to the camp entrance. Holding his hand up, he motioned for them to stop. He spat out a brown stream of tobacco and called out, "What can I do for you fellows?"

"We've come here looking for Colonel Franklin," Jack replied. "You can tell him that we've made this visit on behalf of Mister Folks concerning his son Lieutenant Folks."

The corporal drawled, "Ah, yes – the colonel was right expecting someone to come along soon. Just you wait right there, and someone will lead you to him." He took a step back and spoke a few words a nearby private who then sauntered off towards the middle of the camp.

"Is it alright if we leave our horses here?" Jack asked. He had decided to be cautiously friendly but still polite.

"Sure, go right on ahead. It's not exactly busy 'round here, so it won't be a problem." He ended with a smile on his face, perhaps acknowledging the waiting period they were going through.

Jack slid off the horse with his partner following suit. "Excuse me, soldier," he asked, "but did you know Lieutenant Folks at all?"

"I reckon we're a pretty tight outfit here." He gave them a big honest grin. "Most of us even came from the same area of New York. But Lieutenant Folks was pretty fresh. Only been here a few weeks, but he was popular enough with the men. Never took advantage of his rank or station, if you know what I mean."

Jack was beginning to like this corporal. "I do at that. The army hasn't changed at all since I've been in it."

The corporal's eyes brightened. "Ah, an old soldier – were you infantry or cavalry?" he asked suspiciously as he looked Jack over.

"Cavalry – I spent a few years out west protecting the new settlements there."

"I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Eugene Ferran." He shook hands with Jack.

"My name is Jack Blackwood. This here is my partner Ezra Miller."

Ferran shook hands with the ex-slave and then looked into the camp. He said, "Now where did that private go? He should be here soon enough to take you to see the colonel."

"Let me ask you a question, Mister Ferran. When Folks left the camp last night - do you know who was on guard?" Ezra asked.

"That's easy enough to answer - I was."

Jack took over the questioning and asked, "What can you remember about last night? Did he look worried in any way?"

"Well, the lieutenant went into the city with a bunch of the other officers from camp. They were going to do the usual - go out drinking and have some fun. There's not a whole lot to do right now but sit and wait for orders. Most of us are itching to get down south and whup those rebels. But the Army has got their plans, and they aren't sharing them with us at the moment."

"What kind of fun do the boys around here have - gambling or girls?" Jack asked. He knew that whores, drink and cards were on the mind of just about every soldier.

"Well," Ferran replied with a sly look on his face. "I like a good game of poker myself, and the missus back home would kill me if I got into trouble with another girl. But some of the men here get bored and lonely spending day after day in this camp. I rightly can't blame them if some go astray."

"Is Folks the kind of man to go astray? I heard he has a pretty girl waiting for him at home."

Ferran paused before answering, as if weighing what he was about to say. "Yeah, he showed me her picture that he carries in a locket around his neck. She is pretty – the type of girl that would make any man proud. But as I said, a man can get awfully bored and lonely out here. The lieutenant was no stronger in that regard than others."

They were interrupted in their conversation by the return of the private who had been sent to the colonel. He saluted sloppily to Ferran and said, "The colonel asks that I take these men to go and see him. Captain Ellsworth also suggested you stop jawing with these men and do your duty."

Ferran looked around to see if anyone could overhear him and said, "Captain Ellsworth can go to Hell. You can tell him I said that." And then with a wave and a smile, he let Jack and Ezra pass to follow the private into the camp.

The colonel had a large white tent, which had a wooden floor and some slightly more substantial furniture in it. The colonel and a lieutenant were standing in the open air at a small table outside the tent, with a small canopy stretched over it to keep the sun out. When Jack first saw Colonel Franklin, he resisted the urge to salute. The colonel looked every inch the type of soldier that men would follow to the very Gates of Hell. He was tall, had steel-gray hair, was immaculately dressed, and had a handsome, martial bearing. His face was clean-shaven and showed only a few wrinkles. Jack would have guessed his age to be in the late forties. Standing next to him was a young lieutenant with dark hair and a wispy mustache. The lieutenant couldn't have been older than nineteen and shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

"I'm glad to meet you," Franklin said while shaking Jack's hand with a firm grip. He had the easy voice that was used to commanding men. "This here is my nephew, Lieutenant Riley. He acts as my eyes and ears. I don't know what I would do without him."

Jack introduced himself and his partner. He then said, "I wish we could meet under better circumstances, sir. As you already know, we are here on behalf of Mister Charles Folks concerning his son. Have you any further news of his whereabouts?"

"I'm afraid I won't be much help to you. I have some of my men going out to comb the city for our young lieutenant. So far we haven't found a trace of his whereabouts." He looked behind Jack and said, "Ah, here comes Captain Ellsworth. Perhaps he has some further information for us."

They all turned to watch the captain approach. Jack was struck by how ugly the man was. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, had a dark craggy face, thick curling eyebrows, and slovenly manner of dress. Compared to the colonel, he had a sinister look. Ellsworth returned his stare, and it was not a kind pair of eyes.

The captain saluted the colonel almost as an afterthought and said, "I suppose these here two men came to find out about Lieutenant Folks?"

"Yes, they are here on behalf of his father. Have any of the men reported back from their search of the city?"

"They just got back in. I told them to visit his favorite haunts, but no one has found anything yet. It's most mysterious." His voice was most off-handed, almost as if he didn't care either way.

Colonel Franklin sighed. "Yes it is - most mysterious indeed. Folks is a little wet behind the ears but has the makings of a good officer. So many of the recruits we get are nothing but trouble. They don't know how to drill properly and won't listen to orders."

Lieutenant Riley looked away, red-faced, as these words were spoken.

Jack interrupted the colonel and said, "Other than the search parties you sent out, did you question any of your men in the camp on his whereabouts?"

The captain replied curtly, "When we had roll call this morning, no one stepped forward with any information."

"Well, you see I had an interesting conversation with your guard at the gate– a Corporal Ferran. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with me, but I think he knew where Lieutenant Folks went. He may at least be able to give us an idea."

Ellsworth rubbed his jaw and said, "I wouldn't bother questioning that particular corporal. He's a troublemaker through and through. You'll see him at the guard post quite often for general punishment. That's if he is lucky – otherwise he gets harsher duties than that."

"Now, Captain," Franklin interjected, "perhaps Mister Blackwood here is right. It wouldn't hurt to question the corporal a little further. Why don't you go on over and get him. I myself would be most interested in what he has to say."

The captain gave Jack a dark look and stomped off to get the corporal.

"Don't mind him," Franklin said. "He may be quick to anger, but he is a good soldier. Always follows orders, if even he doesn't want to."

"I bet he isn't popular with the men." Ezra said.

"He's alright," Riley interjected defensively.

Franklin laughed. "My nephew is right, the captain never has been exactly popular with the men, but they give him grudging respect because I depend on him so much. He always knows what's going on in the camp and where to get some of the best food around. We are always low on supplies, and Ellsworth manages to find what we need."

"I see," Jack said, not really interested in their supply problems. "Let me ask you – has Lieutenant Folks ever been any problem for you? Have there ever been any signs of trouble with him? His father told me he was a good son."

"No problems that I know of. The lieutenant is always on time and ready to do what was called of him. He is fairly inexperienced, mind you, but I never had any complaints concerning his conduct. His horsemanship is fair and quickly improving under our guidance."

"James has always been friendly to me," Riley added.

"What about your captain? Did he have any complaints about him?" Jack knew that the top of the chain rarely addressed the day-to-day needs of a busy army camp.

"Not that I know of - why don't you ask him yourself?"

The captain just then came back scowling with the smiling Corporal Ferran in tow. They both saluted Franklin, who ordered the corporal to stand at ease.

The colonel transfixed the corporal with hard eyes and asked, "Now Ferran, Mister Blackwood here told me that you were discussing our missing Lieutenant Folks with him. Is there anything that you know that you are holding out on us?"

Ferran shuffled from foot to foot, looking embarrassed. He gave Jack a sour look before answering, "I don't know anything worth your time, sir."

"Come on, out with it man," Ellsworth barked impatiently.

The corporal blushed a crimson red. He said, "Well, I'm not one to judge any man's character. You see, the night the lieutenant went missing, I stopped to jaw with him for a while. We passed the usual talk about the war, but he was in a bragging mood about where he was going that night."

"What was he bragging about?" Jack asked impatiently.

"Well, Mister Blackwood, as I was telling you at the gate – some men get awfully lonely here day after day." He looked up at the canopy, as if it would take away the burden of his words for him. He then took a breath and continued: "They miss the company of women. James was telling me about this girl he met at a saloon the other week. Apparently he got to know her quite well. He told me was planning to spend all of that night with her and get smashing drunk in the process." After a pause he then added, "It's not something I would condone."

Lieutenant Riley blushed when he heard these words.

"Did he mention her name?" Jack snapped. If he knew the girl's name, then it was only a matter of time before he could find her whereabouts.

"That's the funny thing sir," Ferran chuckled. "He told me her name was Lizzie Clayton."

"What's so funny about that, Corporal?" Ellsworth said impatiently.

"Well, the joke was on the lieutenant. You see. Lizzie Clayton is a well-known whore, and half of the men in this camp had already paid that girl for a night of entertainment. She was quite the popular girl around Washington, if you know what I mean. Then there was the poor Lieutenant thinking he had met the girl of his dreams. I didn't have the heart to break it to him, he would find out in his own time once she asked for the bill to be paid."

Jack thought about poor Folks being taken for a fool, and realized the same had happened to him before. It was not an unexpected story for a boy out on his own to be taken in by a woman of the night. "Do you know where this Miss Clayton does her business?"

Ferran turned red and said, "I personally wouldn't know. I can ask one of the boys and find out."

"You do that," Jack said. "It's important that we find the lieutenant before he gets into any more trouble."

"Is this really worth our time?" Ellsworth interrupted. "Are you saying our missing lieutenant is hiding away with this prostitute? Why would he stay there with her all day?"

Jack snapped back, "For the same reason any man would. As of now, this is our only clue. It is best that I go follow this lead. What else would you have me do?"

Franklin merely raised an eyebrow and watched the both of them argue.

Ellsworth didn't answer the question but merely said, "Very well, if you wish to waste your time, then I can do nothing to stop you. Corporal, I suggest you get that information for Mister Blackwood and then return to your post."

Ferran saluted Ellsworth sloppily and then gave Franklin and Riley a smart and precise one. With that, he quickly left and soon disappeared among the maze of tents.

Franklin cleared his throat and spoke, "Well then, Mister Blackwood, if you require anything else from us, please let me know. If you do find Lieutenant Folks, remember he is in the army now. His rich father can't protect him from military justice no matter how much money he spends. His punishment is purely a matter for me to decide."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir. My job is just to find him, not to save him from army regulations."

"Very good – I wish you luck." With a wave of his hand, the colonel dismissed them.

Jack and Ezra made their way back to the gate with the captain trailing behind. He made sure they made it outside the camp and then left them without even saying goodbye.

Jack shook his head. "So Ezra, what do you think of the army life?"

His partner chuckled and looked over the dirty camp. "It's not for me. I had a taste of slavery myself. These men live like animals. And having to report to that captain every day? Forget about it."

"Yes, that Ellsworth does bear watching. I will be happy if we never have to see him again. He doesn't seem to like us that much at all. I had my share of bad officers to report to, but this man shows a total lack of concern about the lieutenant. It could almost be called hatred, if I had any reason to believe it so."

"The captain has had too many men not give him the respect he thinks his title deserves. I wouldn't be surprised if the men shirk their duties just to anger him."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Jack said. "They do seem to love their colonel well enough. It's probably the only thing holding this division together. By the way, that boy Riley looked a little embarrassed, perhaps he is hiding something."

Ezra merely shrugged and said, "Some people just don't like talking about sex."

Within a few moments, Ferran came back. He said politely, "I got the information you wanted. The boys told me that she has a small house - more of a shack really. It's over on 16th Street. Number twenty-two. I was told she doesn't get out of bed until late in the afternoon."

"I thank you," Jack said. "And one more thing, Corporal – I'm sorry that I had to bring you into all of this. I'm paid to get information for my clients and sometimes I have to step on a few toes to get it. No hard feelings, eh?" Jack hated to burn this bridge as he knew that Ferran could be a valuable source of information.

The corporal grinned in relief. "Oh, don't worry - I'm not holding a grudge with you, Mister Blackwood. It's that damned Ellsworth. The captain is always trying to bust me for something."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind for the future." Jack took a five-dollar coin from his pocket and slipped it Ferran's hand along with a business card. "Here, take this card of mine. If you hear anything else around the camp about Lieutenant Folks - let me know and I'll give you some more money."

"Why thank you, sir." He bit the coin to mark it and slipped it in his coat pocket. He gave them a cheery wave as they got up on their mounts.

Jack saluted Ferran smartly, and then they wheeled the horses about and left.

Chapter 4

It was hot. Time was getting on to the late afternoon when they had ridden to 16th Street. It was a cramped dirty place located in a poor part of the city. Most of the homes in this area were in rough condition, and a number of children were running through the street, barefooted. Lizzie Clayton's house was nothing more than a roughly painted shack with dirty windows and even dirtier curtains. At one time someone planted bushes around the walls, but they were not well taken care off and sprawled untidily over the cracked dirt. However the walkway to the front door was swept clean as if someone had tried to tidy the place without putting too much effort into it.

Jack and Ezra dismounted and tied the horses to the unpainted gate post. Looking the place over, the detective said, "With business booming here in Washington, you would think the whores here in town could find a better place to live."

Ezra nodded and took a glance over the neighborhood before answering, "There is not enough rooms to go around for anyone right now. People will take whatever they can get. This is pretty upscale these days – at least she has a place to entertain alone. That's worth a few dollars extra."

Jack shook his head, knowing that his friend was personally acquainted with many of the girls who walked the streets of the city. He pushed the gate open and went to the front door. Ezra lagged behind, looking over the neighborhood. The front door was made out of thin pine, and the front window curtains were shut tight. Jack pounded hard on the door and stopped to listen. It was quiet from within the house and not even the squeak of a floorboard could be heard. He could see a few fat flies bumping lazily against the window panes inside.

"Hey mister, who are you looking for?" a high-pitched voice called out.

They both turned and saw a boy who was roughly ten years old, watching them from the street. He was grubby and shoeless, but his eyes were bright with interest.

"We're looking for Miss Clayton. Do you know where she could be this time of day?"

"Oh, you mean Lizzie? My Momma told me to stay away from her. She told me she was one of those women. I don't know what she meant about that, since Miss Lizzie looked like a right proper girl to me. She always smiles pretty and treats me right."

His natural dislike of children rose within, but Jack resisted the urge to shout at him. "Ah, yes. Well we're looking for her. She had a gentleman friend with her, and we've been looking all over Washington for her friend."

The boy's eyes widened. "Is she in some kind of trouble? I don't want to get Miss Lizzie into any trouble."

"No, there's no trouble, boy. His dad is looking for him and hired us to find him."

"Well good. Miss Lizzie always asks me to look after the place while she was out. Even though I know my momma might not like it." He looked around shiftily. "You never know what can happen in this neighborhood, but she always had friends over so I'm not sure what she was worried about."

Jack was beginning to get exasperated listening to him. "Do you know where she could be right now?" he asked, his voice getting louder.

The boy looked like he was thinking hard. "She's usually up by now. She's always sleeping in late."

Jack pounded on the door again, and still no one answered back or stirred within. He then examined the front window and found no visible opening to see further into the house. Stepping away from the door, he made a quick circular trip around the small shack. The two remaining windows on the sides were shut and curtains drawn tight. There were several chinks in the siding but none afforded a clear view within. He noticed that the flies were heavy on the inside of all the windows in the house. Returning, he said, "Now look, son, it's really important that we find this man. Would you keep an eye out to see if anyone is watching us? We're going to have to force our way in to make sure your friend Lizzie is safe."

"There's no reason to do that," the boy said simply. "Lizzie always kept the door key under that rock." He pointed to a smooth rock near the walkway leading to the front door.

Ezra went over to the rock and turned it over. A small hole had been dug into the ground, but no key was to be seen. "Are you sure about that? There's no key here."

"But there always is. I've seen her lift that rock up hundreds of times. Of course she thinks no one is watching her, but she never pays all that close of attention by the time she gets home in the morning."

Jack eyed his and then said to the child, "Boy, go back home to your momma. I don't want to see you back here again. If I do, then the police will be here to question you."

The boy gave him a scared look and ran off without looking back, the dust flying up from his bare feet, making clouds in the rays of the sun.

"Ezra, I'm going to break this door down. I want you to be ready with your gun, even though I don't expect any trouble in there."

"Why are you in a sudden rush to get in there?" Ezra challenged as he fumbled with the gun.

"You'll see soon enough." Jack held the frame of the door with one hand and began battering at the thin pine with his boots. The door quickly began to crack and then suddenly split away from the frame. He pushed the remnant of the door away and walked into the house with Ezra at the ready. There was apparently only one room in the house and in the shade of the drawn curtains they could see the large bed against the far wall.

The smell of rotting death met Jack's nostrils. It was a smell he had known from the killings he had seen on the prairie - the end of an assault on an Indian village or a settler's home burned down to the ground. It was the smell of warm flesh decomposing in the stifling summer heat. He covered his face with his sleeve and walked towards the two figures lying on top of the bed. The buzzing of flies was thick in the air.

Outside at the door , his partner swore under his breath and then began to retch.

The bed sheet and ground around it was splattered deep with drying blood. The lifeless butchered figure of what was once a woman was lying face down. Next to her was a uniformed dead man who was staring blankly at the ceiling. His shirt was open and the chest was a mass of blood-crusted cuts that had stained the sheets underneath red. Jack took a deep breath into his sleeve and took a closer look at the man's face. It was a lieutenant's uniform all right. A locket hung down from a chain and Jack pulled it roughly off.

"Come on, Ezra, let's go back outside," the detective mumbled through the sleeve covering his mouth. The air was too thick for him to think. His partner nodded in agreement, and they both staggered out into the air to breathe some fresh air.

Regaining some of his composure, Ezra said, "Damn it, Jack, what happened in there? I've never seen anyone butchered like that before. Is it Folks?"

Snapping open the blood-stained locket, Jack saw a picture of Anna Keller inside. "It was Folks all right - it has to be. Who else would be carrying a picture of his fiancée?"

His partner glanced at the picture of the locket and nodded.

"When you're feeling ready, I want you to go back and get Garrett first and then Mister Folks. Don't tell him anything in the presence of Miss Keller. I know she is sick with worry about her fiancé, but it would be better for her if she didn't know where we found him."

Ezra nodded bleakly and staggered over to his horse. He weakly pulled himself up and gave his friend a short wave goodbye. He said. "You know, Jack, this is the part I hate about this job. I don't know how you can stand there looking so calm after seeing a woman killed that way."

"It's experience. Experiences I would rather not have," Jack said glumly.

"You can keep them."

"Now go on. I'll be fine, but hurry back."

Without any further words, his partner pushed the horse into a canter and headed down the street. Jack watched him for a minute before returning to the house. He closed the remnants of the door behind him and began opening the curtains and windows. The fresh air stirred up the flies, but the air within became almost passable.

There was now plenty of light to see the two corpses on the brass bed. Jack rolled the woman over, smearing his own hands with her blood. Her empty eyes leered at him as he examined the body. Miss Clayton would have been very pretty when alive - she had smooth skin and delicate features. There was some resemblance with her and Anna. Her naked body had been slashed several times, leaving deep long gouges on her torso and waist. Jack went over her minutely, noting several details as he went along. He paid particular attention to her wrists and ankles. He then turned her back over to the position he had found her.

James Folks was wearing his uniform, the tunic unbuttoned, but his shirt and pants still on. His body had a series of wounds across the chest, and more notably, a single straight cut across his throat that had nearly severed the head. Next to the bed lay a cavalry saber, coated crimson with blood. Jack again went over the body in detail, looking for any further evidence of interest. He also picked up the sword and felt the edge against his thumb. It was sharp but had several nicks where it must have struck bone.

Turning to the dresser, he began rummaging through the dresser. There wasn't much to find there - some dirty clothing, a number of coins, and a cracked makeup case. On top of the dresser sat a half-finished bottle of what appeared to be whiskey. Jack sniffed it and then took a small sip. It was a quality drink, so he shrugged and took a larger pull for strength before putting it back down. Widening his search, he looked under the bed, through the piles of clothing, and finally to the gun belt hanging on the footboard. Jack sniffed the barrel of the pistol and found that it had not been fired recently.

By this time, an hour had passed, and the detective did not register any surprise upon hearing several horses ride up. He looked out the front window and saw Henry Garrett and Charles Folks dismounting, their faces grim. Folks's was white with shock, while Garrett merely looked serious. Ezra stayed sitting on his horse, apparently content with waiting outside.

Garrett took Folks by the shoulder and steered him past the door and into the house. "Come on, it is best that we get this over with quickly."

"I'm sorry you have to see this," Jack said quietly, "But you have to know what happened to your son. Is this him?"

Charles Folks gulped and finally looked at the two bodies. He nodded quickly and then choked out, "It's him."

Garrett turned Folks roughly around and led him outside again. Jack could hear and see them through the open door. "Now I want you to wait out here and take it nice and easy. Sit a spell and take a drink from my bottle here. I'll go talk to Jack, and we'll figure out what's to be done."

"What should I ever tell Anna? And his mother? This will break her heart." His powerful shoulders shuddered and his head sunk, sobbing on his knees.

Handing Folks his pint of whiskey, Garrett came back into the house and from the doorway looked over the scene of carnage without emotion. "Tell me what happened here."

"I'm not sure what Ezra told you," Jack said. When Garrett made no comment, he continued on. "We asked a few questions at the camp, and we were told by a corporal that James Folks was coming over to spend time with this woman here. We got here, and it appeared that no one was home. A neighborhood boy told us where this Miss Clayton hid her key, but it was missing. I took a look around the outside and noticed a peculiar smell and a number of flies on the inside. So I decided to break in."

Garrett nodded and leaned weakly against the door frame. The detective could see that the Captain of the Watch was looking pale and tired.

Jack continued, "I looked over the bodies, and Miss Clayton here appears to have been stabbed and slashed several times with that saber. Young Folks looks as if he was tortured with the same weapon and then died from a single slash across the throat. It was the work of a mad man."

Garrett held his hand up to stop Jack's story. He looked at his friend and explained pedantically: "Let me tell you what I see here. I see a boy who is away from his father for the first time." He paused to look down at the lieutenant's body, then looked back and summed up more quickly. "He comes to Washington and falls in love with the wrong girl, finds out she is a prostitute and in a jealous rage, kills her. In fear of what he had done, he takes his own life instead of the hangman."

"I would think that too, but what man would cut himself like that?"

Henry face turned red and he snapped, "The same kind of man who would kill a girl like that!"

"Listen, Henry, there are some further points of interest that I have found. Grasping his old friend by the shoulders, he walked Garrett over to the bed and pointed at the bodies. "If you look at both of their wrists and ankles, there are some marks that look like rope burns. Both of them were first tied down before being killed. After the murderer was finished, he removed the ropes and took them with him. It's the only explanation that makes sense. How else would the girl have stayed still after being hit with a sword? She would have been running away in pain, splattering the blood all over this room."

Garrett grunted and said, "Not if she was knocked out first. But go on."

Jack felt his own temper rising as he tried to reason with his friend. "Whoever tied them up, also must have gagged them well. Otherwise the screaming would have woken up the neighborhood."

"You think people in this neighborhood are going to be awoken by a prostitute screaming? I think most of her neighbors would have rolled over and gone back to sleep."

"Then there is the matter of the key."

Garrett was clearly perplexed. "What key?"

"I was told that Miss Clayton kept her house key hidden under a rock outside. Well, it's missing from her hiding spot. I looked all over the house for it and haven't found it yet. Whoever has it was able to lock the place up after they left."

Garrett shook his head and said, "Look, Jack, I've listened to your explanation and they may make sense in another situation. But just look at those two – I see a sword on the floor, next to a man who killed her and then killed himself. That's the simplest explanation. Anything else would be foolish to pursue and a waste of my time."

"You've talked about your hunches before, and this is one of mine." Jack's words were coming faster as he spoke. "These two were murdered in cold blood. I don't know who did it or why, but someone has to find out before it happens again." The detective could feel the sweat pouring down his temples, and he tugged hard on his collar. He hated to contradict his friend, but he knew he was right about this.

"It's not going to be me." Henry said flatly.

"Then it will be Mister Blackwood," Charles Folks interrupted. He had regained some of his composure, but one could see the despair deep in his eyes. He smelled of whiskey, having drained half of the bottle. "If you think my son is a murderer, then you are clearly mistaken. He was a good lad and a good son."

Garrett frowned. "I never called your son a murderer - it's just the most likely explanation until some further evidence comes to light. If Jack here can bring that evidence forward, then I'll gladly put some of my men on the job."

Miss Keller's diary, continued

July 13 – before Midnight

Mister Folks and I have had the worst kind of news. James has been found, and he is no more. The detective found his body – he has been murdered – I really am inconsolable. Mister Blackwood sent word about James being found dead, apparently stabbed, but gave no further details. He promises to come here and talk with us soon. My poor darling. How I wish there were someone here to comfort me besides Mister Folks. He left with Mister Miller soon after we got the news. I think they wanted to make sure that the person they had found really was James. He seems disturbed somewhat by his son's death, but mostly stoical. It is so gruesome to think about, but I feel that I must think about it.

Mister Folks is a bit more distant since he returned. I wish he had someone else to comfort him other than me. It could be that he is not comfortable enough with me here to express emotion about this. I'm not sure what I should say to him. He does not seem to grieve; perhaps this seems too unreal to him. I have kept to my room since the news. The hotel landlady made an effort to sit and talk with me, and she held my hand, but it really was better for me when she went away. It was easier for me to be miserable on my own. I think people assume, since I am smaller, and not likely to grow much more, that I am younger than I am. I do hate to be treated like a scared little girl, although I know people are just trying to be kind; the landlady, Misses Barnes, in particular is helpful. She told me, though, that another soldier was killed a few weeks ago. I wonder what happened then, and why he was killed, and if his family still wonders, or if it was something simple, like a fight among the soldiers, or a duel.

I have been sitting staring out the window, thinking of this and that, and mostly crying. After lying down for a while I wondered how to present myself, and looked through the things I had packed, and that led me to sitting, staring out the window near my trunk. I had never thought to bring a black dress to wear, yet I feel I must show my feelings for James by wearing black. Misses Barnes offered me a dress to wear, and it would be fine, I suppose, though a little out of style, and not really the right size. I do not have time to go to a dressmaker's to have it altered to fit me better. And I did not bring any extra money with me to buy something new either. I can wear it until I get home, and then decide what to do after that. It was very generous of her to make the offer. I imagine she wondered what she would have done if she had been out of town and a friend had died. I'll let her know that her dress would be fine. I must see the detective and find out for myself everything that has happened; I hope Mister Folks does not notice me missing. Perhaps it is because our families are so close, or it is just his paternal nature, but he is inclined to be over-protective of me.

The hours have passed quickly since I have returned. It is night now, and the hotel is quiet, but the streets still have some activity in them. I was called to dinner, but I did not leave the room. I was not hungry then (although I am now), and I just did not feel like I should be social, even for a dinner in the hotel. The activity in the street has helped to take my mind off things. Instead I watch the progress of a boy driving a team down the street, and a lone man, a shopkeeper I imagine, heading home.
Chapter 5

Riding back to the neighborhood livery, Jack was silent in his own thoughts. Ezra rode next to him, keeping his own counsel. After the horses had been safely corralled, Jack trudged back home as his partner dealt with the payment. He went up the stairs, unlocked the front door and went immediately to his desk to think. There he lit a cigarette and began to intently concentrate on this new problem.

Ezra came in, reached for the office bottle and poured two stiff drinks into a pair of fingerprinted glasses. He handed one to his friend and gulped down his own shot. Making a face, he put the glass hard down on the desk.

He said, "I heard the argument between Henry and Folks. I take it we've been hired to look further into this matter?"

Jack looked up, his brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, Folks has given us the job to look for the killer of his son. I'm not sure if it was the whiskey Henry gave him or a vain attempt to clear his name."

"You know, I was wondering what made you rush into Miss Clayton's house," Ezra mused. "How did you suspect that something was amiss?"

Jack snorted. "Well, I was a little slow there for a moment. I realized that someone must be inside when we found the key was missing, and I took a walk around the house to look for another way in. That's when I saw the flies gathering around the windows. As hot as it is today, who would have left all of their windows shut? Anyone inside would have been intolerably uncomfortable."

"Why would Lizzie Clayton keep her single key hidden like that? Most people would carry their own key and hide a spare."

Rubbing his temples, Jack explained, "Imagine being in her business. It would be easy to mislay a key while servicing your clients. Instead she kept it in a safe place where she could always lay her hands on it after returning home. Coming home she would open the door and lock herself in. If the key was missing, she was either inside, had taken it with her, or someone else had it with them."

The black man nodded in understanding. "Now that I've had a drink, can you tell me what you found inside the house while I was gone?"

Jack explained how he had gone over the bodies, the rope marks and his search for the key. He ended by saying, "I told my suspicions to Henry, but he didn't want to believe his own eyes."

"What could his motives be?" his partner asked incredulously. "How could he not listen to your evidence? It's clear to me that you are either on the right track, or James Folks was clearly insane."

"I don't think it's a matter of belief on Henry's part – more like willingness to not believe, if you like. He doesn't have the time to hunt down a monster like this. He's too busy arresting drunks and whores to bother with this murder. I think he'll come around once we have some stronger evidence. To him it's preposterous that such a cold-blooded murderer could even exist."

"I would understand that - I've never seen anything like that in all of my years." Ezra looked ill again remembering the sights of the past hour.

"You would be surprised what men can do. Out west, I saw acts of cruelty that still cause me nightmares even these many years later. The Indians and the settlers were never too kind to each other. What we have here is a man who tied up the both of them and used torture before finally finishing them off. I would guess that he killed the girl first."

"What makes you think that? Surely they could have been cut up at the same time."

"Well, I've seen it before out on the prairie." Jack had a vision of his past - a burned out cabin and the two bodies staked outside. It had been a long time ago when he was a young private, but he still remembered the smell and the sound of the feeding flies. "I imagine it makes the male victim feel powerless if he first sees a woman butchered and is helpless to stop it. It only increases the terror when it's his turn to be under the knife." He stubbed out his cigarette and grounded it into the floor with his boot.

"I see," Ezra commented blandly. "Beyond the evidence you saw, is there anything else we can go on?"

"No, not much at all - yet. We first will have to put ourselves in the murderer's place and try to figure out his motives."

"I'm not sure if I see any motive at all."

Jack went on. "First of all, he must have been a patient man. This was a premeditated set of killings that were planned out very carefully - the use of the rope and then removing it so the evidence wouldn't be found. The murderer set it up so a casual investigator would think the lieutenant had gone mad."

His friend digested that idea and thought for a minute before replying, "Perhaps it was someone the girl knew. Like an old lover or a previous client who was jealous that she was spending time with another man. That would explain both the key and how he got into the house. If he had spent time at the house before, perhaps he knew about her hiding place or how to open a window without being heard. After he caught them in bed, he got angry and decided to kill the both of them."

Jack listened to this mutely and studied his fingers. They were dirty and cracked with age. He felt even older than his years.

He finally replied, "Your idea makes sense, but there's just too much blood and violence involved. Any old lover would have stormed in, killed the both of them and then made a run for it. He wouldn't have tortured them that way – he would be too afraid of being discovered. Instead what we're looking for is a maniac - a blood-thirsty brute." He grabbed the glass in front of him and took a stiff drink. The whiskey burned his throat, and he smiled as the warmth spread through his veins.

Ezra spoke slowly, "Most men afflicted in the head in such a way would be quite noticeable to others. That kind of behavior would get you locked up real quick. It seems to me such a man would be easy to find if we looked in the right place."

"Well, the cuts and marks I saw looked like the work of a methodical man. And trust me it's hard to be careful with a cavalry saber. The throat was cut with a single slash, and the slashes across the chest were done with precision."

"Perhaps our murderer is a butcher by trade or perhaps a surgeon. You know someone familiar with cutting carefully and quickly."

"That's a good thought, Ezra. It could also be a soldier who has had plenty of practice using his sword." Jack lit one of his cigarettes and offered one to his partner.

"Where do we start?" Ezra said as he lit and puffed on the cigarette.

"I want you to go make the rounds around the saloons. Did anyone know Lizzie or notice anything strange about her that night? Are there any kind of rumors going around about a man who would meet our requirements?"

"And what will you be doing?"

"I'm going to go visit Miss Mulholland."

Ezra smiled through the cloud smoke he blew out. "Is it business or pleasure?"

Mulholland was a prostitute of Jack's acquaintance who he had met on a previous case. Ezra did not exactly know the extent of their relationship, but he had his suspicions since his friend had once disappeared and spent an entire night with the woman.

"First one and then we'll see about the other," the detective replied mischievously. "Now get out of here before I lose my temper."

Ezra stood up, tipped his hat and left his friend to his thoughts. Jack sat staring at the window, picturing the inside of the small shack during the previous night, and the murderer's steady hands tying the ropes, and then the painful awakening of his victims struggling to scream through the tight gags. It was a terrible way to die; any man who did such things should be shot like a rabid dog. The detective stubbed out his cigarette and prepared to leave.

As his hand reached out for the front door, he could see the shadow of a woman through the thick leaded glass. She saw him and tapped nervously at the door. Jack opened it and saw it was Anna Keller. She was wearing a threadbare black dress, and her eyes were red from crying. She stepped in and half fell into the office. He quickly reached over and grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her from hitting the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I just had to know." Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"Please, you have nothing to be sorry about. Let me find you a chair." His head raced with thoughts, hoping he could treat her gently, and honestly at the same time. The unannounced visit made him feel flustered too. Why wouldn't she just stay in that damned hotel and sob her heart out there? He walked her over to his desk and sat her down in the visitor's seat. Composing himself, he took his own seat behind the desk and said, "Just why did you come here?"

She fumbled with a damp handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Her voice was raw with emotion as she spoke. "I had to know what happened to James. Charles won't tell me anything except that James is dead and gone. You must tell me the truth, what really happened to him?"

Jack replied carefully, "Mister Folks has his reasons. In this case I do believe he is right in not telling you what he knows. It's best that you get back to the hotel and rest for now. He will tell you all in due time – don't you worry."

"Look, Mister Blackwood, James and I were in love and were to be married by next year. Why won't anyone tell me what happened to him? What could possibly be so bad about it?" Her eyes had turned from low sorrow to blazing anger.

Jack began to feel pity for her. How could he tell her that her fiancé died in the company of a prostitute? But if anyone had a right to know, it was she. He cleared his throat and finally blurted out, "This is against my better judgment, Miss Keller, but I suppose it would be better if you knew." He cleared his throat again before continuing. Remembering his earlier conversation with Corporal Ferran he said, "You must understand that army life can be difficult. There are long hours where a man has little to do."

"What are you trying to say?"

"As I said, this is most difficult to explain without hurting your feelings. My only recourse is to be frank. James was found dead in the home of a local prostitute. They were spending the night together. I think someone murdered the pair of them."

Anna's already pale face turned even whiter. She stared with shock and then broke into tears. "Why? How could he?"

"I'm sorry I told you anything. You must remember that he still loved you, even if he was with another woman. He was just lonely and wanted to be with someone. It was nothing personal."

"Nothing personal?" she nearly shouted. "How could he do that if loved me? How could he?"

Jack poured a small shot of whiskey for her and pushed the glass towards her. He started to explain. "James missed you. He wanted to be with you. But he was lonely and found solace with another. Trust me; all men can be weak around the temptations of the flesh. I'm guilty of that too. You must not think badly of him and don't hate a man for being weak. Now be a good girl and take a drink." He smiled gently at her.

Anna looked at the glass suspiciously, but Jack could see that she still needed that oldest of medicines. Her hands shook as she tipped the whiskey slowly and took a small sip. She shuddered and made a face. "I don't know how you men can drink this." She took another sip, put the glass down and began to cry again. Her face turned away from Jack, and she began to sob with only long shudders breaking up the sustained misery.

Jack shifted in his chair uncomfortably and didn't know what to do.

After a few moments, she wiped her eyes and said, "I'll try to understand what he did," she said. She then buried her head in her hands and started to cry with renewed vigor.

Jack continued to wait with embarrassment until the emotions began to abate. He then said, "Now you really must get back to the hotel. I'll go there with you myself to make sure you are not taken with too much grief."

Her voice was cracked and raw. "Please don't trouble yourself on my account. I have a carriage from the hotel waiting for me outside. Just go and find James's killer for me. Find the murderer and see that he is hanged." The last word was unyielding and said with strength.

"I will," Jack promised, taken aback by her sudden ferocity. This was a woman who was not to be taken lightly. His first impression of her had been that she was just a girl, but he now saw a strong character in those dark eyes.

Anna got up unsteadily and staggered towards the door. Jack jumped up to help and went to open the door for her. She went through, held herself up against the stair railing, and he followed behind as they went down. They went down to the street and stopped before the carriage.

She turned to face Jack, picking at the threadbare fabric of her dress. "This is something that I was loaned from the hotel's landlady. I would never have thought that I would need to pack a black dress. It's not something I would normally wear in public."

"You look just fine, Miss Keller."

She smiled faintly and said, "Thank you for the kind words."

Jack helped her up to the carriage and gave her a friendly wave as she left. He watched until the carriage had turned the corner. Anna Keller was a beautiful woman. He felt sorry that such a lovely creature had to ever feel such pain. He sighed and laughed at his own sentimental heart. With those thoughts still dancing in his head, he went to the livery to collect his horse.
Chapter 6

Elizabeth Mulholland's room was in an apartment located on a muddy rut of a road. Dilapidated houses were crammed close together, making the area feel constricted as if the residents were living in a prison. Several children played in the dirt while their mothers watched with suspicious eyes as Jack rode by. He grinned at them in a friendly manner. He carefully tied his mare to the hitching post outside the boarding house. It was a large clapboard building that had fallen into disrepair over the years. The outside walls were a dirty gray, and the front door sagged loosely on the hinges.

The hallway leading to her room was dark and cool compared to the evening summer heat. Jack first let his eyes adjust to the dimness and then went to her door, located at the back of the building. The old floorboards squeaked noisily, and he could hear her neighbors talking through the thin walls. He tapped lightly on the door and heard her answering voice.

"Hold on just a moment," she sleepily called out.

Jack leaned against the frame of the door and waited. He could hear her swear and then the sound of footsteps. The door swung open and Mulholland stood there with a thin blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Her shoulders were bare. It also appeared that she was wearing nothing underneath. Though she was no longer a young woman, she still had vivacious eyes and a lean, hungry figure. Her dark hair was mussed, as if she had just rolled out of bed.

Her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, it's you," she said with surprise. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

"Tell me, are you wearing anything under that blanket?"

"You came all the way here to ask me that?"

"Well, as much as we enjoyed each other's company last time – how could I resist?" Jack smiled and tried to edge past her.

She resisted and physically blocked his way with her body. "Honey, right now isn't a good time for you to be visiting."

Jack grunted and gently pushed her aside. With a shrug she stepped aside to let him pass. The room was in disarray with piles of old clothing and a few whiskey bottles strewn on the floor. A pair of dirty curtains was open to allow the slightest of breezes to come into the stifling hot room. The single bed had an occupant, a young fair-haired man who was snoring lightly. From the boot and blue uniform crumpled on the floor, Jack gathered it was a soldier.

"I see you have company," Jack said without emotion.

"Don't sound too jealous," she replied. "You know what I do for a living."

"I know what you do, Elizabeth, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." And then Jack grabbed the man's ankle and pulled him roughly off the bed, along with the bedding.

There was a large clunk as the body hit the floor. The man began wrestling with the pile of blankets over his head.

"What the hell!" the soldier shouted.

"Jack, please!" Mulholland gasped.

Jack picked up man's uniform and boots, walked to the doorway and threw them out into the hallway. He then ripped the blanket off and looked down at the confused soldier. He was a young, bony man with a face spotted with acne. "This is nothing personal, soldier. I need to have a few words with Miss Mulholland here in private. I suggest you leave us be."

The young man's face was red with embarrassment. "Seeing that you have me at a disadvantage, I'll gladly take your advice - for now." The soldier stood up, trying to look dignified as possible in his sudden nakedness. He shot Jack a nasty look before scampering out into the hallway. The detective gave him a quick kick into the backside to hurry him along and then slammed the door shut.

Mulholland let out a pent-up giggle and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "I see you haven't changed one bit since I've seen you last."

"And neither have you. That boy couldn't have been more than seventeen."

"It pays the bills. And you know what young men lack in experience, they often make up with enthusiasm. He's old enough to fight in this fool war, so he's old enough for a good lay."

"Watch your mouth, girl. I do believe you are one of the most wicked women I have ever met." Jack knew that Elizabeth came from a well-bred background but had fallen on hard times. She had been forced out of her husband's house when she was found to be having an affair. Since her parents would no longer take her back, she was forced to live by her wits and her body.

"I would like to know of these other women you talk about. Were they as beautiful as I am?"

"For a whore you are certainly the jealous type. Right now I'm not here to talk about your sex habits or your gutter morals."

She cracked a smile and asked, "Then why did you stop by? Surely you wouldn't want to stay the night?"

Jack replied, "I'm on a case right now, and I'm asking you for some information."

Her smiled turned to a frown. She said, "I don't have sex unless I'm paid, and the same goes for talking." She got up from the bed and sat down in front of her vanity mirror to comb the snarls out of her hair. The blanket slipped down to around her waist and Jack could see that he was right - she was wearing nothing underneath. She was unconscious of this display and did not even look to see his reaction.

"I'll pay you, don't worry." Jack sat down at the edge of the bed and watched as she ran the comb through her long dark hair. Her body was pale with smooth skin. For a whore, he thought, she was a damn desirable woman. It was a shame that she had to live this way, but he knew she would never want to live with him. She was too independent.

"Very well, go ahead and ask away," Elizabeth said with exasperation as she stopped at an unruly snag. "I'm not sure that I could know anything you would be interested in, but I'm sure you have your reasons for wanting to talk to me."

"Before I ask you any questions let me tell you a little about it first. I was asked by a New York businessman to find his son. This boy joined up as a lieutenant, and with his father's help, he was assigned to a cavalry division that was stationed here in Washington. The father comes here with the boy's fiancée for a visit. He wants it to be a surprise for his son, and didn't write ahead to tell him about it. They go to the army camp this morning and what do you know? The lieutenant has gone missing the night before. No one there is telling them anything, so they go and see my friend Mister Garrett at the City Watch. I'm sure you know him by sight." Jack gave her a knowing glance. "Well, it turns out he's too busy to help, so he suggested they hire me to see what I can find out."

Mulholland looked bored. "This is all very interesting, I'm sure, but where exactly do I fit in?" She stood up, kicked through the piles of clothing and selected a clinging, opaque slip. Pulling it over her head, she sat back down in her chair and faced Jack with a sly smile. "It's time that I get ready for the night, so you had better make it quick."

Jack paused and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It was going to be a hot tonight. "As I was saying before, the boy's father hired me to look into the disappearance. When my partner and I got to the army camp, I finally found someone who knew where the lieutenant went."

Mulholland stifled a yawn. "Really, this is most interesting," she said sarcastically and continued to comb her hair.

Jack said roughly, "He went to sleep with a whore that night. But both of them never saw the light of day again. They were both murdered in her bed."

The reflection of mirror showed that her eyes widened and the cheeks turned pale. "Murdered?" She turned on her chair to face Jack.

"It was a little shack on a little dirty street. They were both tied up and gagged before the murderer went to work on her with a sword. After she died, the lieutenant was cut up, and then his throat was slashed. I found them today lying next to each other, covered in flies and the bed drenched with their blood."

Mulholland went quiet, her face slack. She finally said with disgust, "What a horrifying story, Jack. But it can't be true. It sounds crazy. Who would do such a thing?"

"It's true alright. That's why I came to see you. You're in the business and in the normal course of the day you must talk to some of the other girls out there. Do you know any of them that had any uneasy feelings or bad experiences with a client lately - someone who was cruel or had hurt them?"

She frowned, revealing lines on her face that made her look as old as her years. "There are always a few bad apples in this business – but most of them can be dealt with, if you use the right words."

"This was something different - the girl was cut up pretty bad, but whoever did it took their time in killing her. It was torture pure and simple." Jack stared at her, waiting for a response.

Mulholland took her time replying, clearly weighing her words before speaking. "I know you're just trying to scare me into telling you something, but I did hear a story just last week. I'm not sure how true it was, but the girl who told me was really frightened. You see a few months ago, she decided to leave the streets and work at a whorehouse. She thought she would be safer in a place like that. Well, just a little while ago one of the girls there was killed, and the client committed suicide. It was a bloody affair, but the police kept it quiet and no one seems to know about it."

"Did she have any idea why?"

"No, but she assumed it was a customer who had gone berserk. The police didn't want to bother investigating the murder of a prostitute. She was scared enough to leave that place and returned to work the streets."

"Well, Elizabeth, that sounds like a very interesting lead. Do you know where this girl lives? I would like to talk to her about that night."

"I don't know where she lives, but I will probably see her tonight. She works the same corner that I do, and we get to talking."

Jack took out a few coins from his pocket and sat them stacked on the small table. He left a business card next to the coins. "If you see her tonight, send her over to my office in the morning. Tell her I just want to talk about what she saw at that whorehouse. If she does, I'll make sure to make it worth her while."

"I will do as you ask, but what about us?" she asked with a wicked grin.

After looking her up and down, Jack untied his boots and pulled them off. "I have another hour or two to spare, Elizabeth. Perhaps you would like the chance to make some more money."

She nodded and reached to pull off her slip.

Before she had a chance to remove it, he grabbed Elizabeth, and pushed her down roughly on the bed. "I like you dressed the way you are."

She smiled sincerely up at him. "My goodness, Jack, it is good to see you again."

Chapter 7

Returning later in the evening and finding the office empty, it was obvious to Jack that Ezra had not yet returned. The office had a slightly musty smell, the morning's breakfast was still lingering in the air, and the dimness of the night came in through the dusty windows, falling into gray squares on the floor. Lighting a single oil lamp, Jack sat at his desk and pulled out a pint of whiskey from the drawer. The last vestiges of his hangover had disappeared by now, but he felt tired and still needed to catch up on his sleep. He thought some water might be good to mix with the whiskey but was too tired to head out to the pump in the alley behind the building to get some. As he sipped, in his mind's eye he could see his partner at some local tavern, running a small tab, paying for drinks in an attempt to get more information. Ezra did his job well, and Jack knew he should show his appreciation more often.

He nodded to himself, and thought about joining his friend somewhere, but knew he'd have to visit a few places before they met up, and there was no guarantee he'd meet Ezra anyway. It could be futile; he'd spend more money - or what was left of it after what he had spent on Mulholland - and though the idea of society sounded inviting, Jack shrank from it as well.

Lighting a cigarette, he read the evening newspaper he had just bought. Scanning through the columns, there wasn't any reporting on the double murder yet. The main editorial demanded that the newly formed Confederate states be crushed by the Army of the Potomac. He was nodding with sleep by the time the front door opened. It was Ezra returning. Jack was jolted awake by the sound.

The black man looked worn out, his face lined with worry. He groaned as he sat down in the visitor's chair across from Jack. He put his boots up on the desk and grabbed at the pint. Taking a pull from the bottle, he sighed.

"It's been a long day," he said with a voice heavy with exhaustion.

The detective rubbed his eyes and yawned. "How do you think I feel? You didn't drink half a barrel of whiskey the night before. But tell me, did you find out anything?"

Ezra put the bottle down and leaned back further into his chair. "Well, let me tell you, there are plenty of violent men out there. They hit and abuse women, but don't kill. None of them seem to meet our needs - just the usual bullies pretending to be strong by pushing a woman around."

"I know the type," Jack grumbled.

"I passed through several saloons and whorehouses, bought a few drinks and heard too many bad stories. Only one was of any interest to us. There was a prostitute who was murdered just recently."

Jack cut him off and said, "Let me guess, there was a murdered girl at a whorehouse and the man who did it apparently killed himself."

Ezra's eyes widened with astonishment. "Damn it, Jack, you already heard this from Mulholland? I wasted all of my time and money buying drinks to get this information for nothing?"

The detective waved his hand in the air to placate his friend. "Yeah, I heard it from her. But it was sheer luck. She knows a girl who was there the night of the murder. Tell me what you heard, and then we can compare notes."

His partner looked crestfallen but readily agreed to the idea. "Fine - it was that whorehouse over on Ann Street. It's one of those new places that have sprung up since this town has been flooded with all those damn soldiers. It was two weeks ago on a Friday night when it happened. The place was crammed full of soldiers, girls, and enough liquor to go around for everyone."

"Sounds like my kind of place."

"One of the men disappeared with one of the girls for a while, and no one gave it a second thought. An hour or two went by before anyone noticed that they were still gone. His friends thought it would be a good joke to go find him and give him a surprise." Ezra paused to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply before continuing. "Well, they were the ones who were surprised. They got to the room, opened the door, and found that the both of them were dead. It looked like murder and a suicide. Everyone assumed it was the work of the soldier."

"Is there any evidence that someone else could have done it?"

"The room was on the second floor and the window was locked. If it was someone else, it had to be somebody who was already there and managed to sneak in without being seen."

"It doesn't seem like it would be that difficult, if the place was crowded with drunks. How were they killed?" Jack asked, exhaustion making his voice ragged.

"Much like James and Miss Clayton– the girl was disemboweled, while the soldier's throat had been cut so deeply he was nearly beheaded."

Jack sighed and shoved the stopper back on the bottle. He said, "Mulholland told me of a girl who was working there the night it happened. She heard it was a murder-suicide too, but this does fit in with what we know so far. Someone is deliberately killing men who are visiting prostitutes. Mulholland is supposed to contact this girl and get her in touch with me. Maybe she will remember the man's name."

His partner said, "That'd be good. If not, we'll have to go ask Garrett what he knows about all of this. It's no coincidence that both of these killings happened the same way."

"I thought Henry was hiding something from us." As Jack said the words, he wondered to himself why his old friend would do such a thing.

Ezra stubbed out his cigarette. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." He left with his shoulders slumped and staggered sleepily towards his room.

Putting out the oil light, Jack walked to the bedroom in the darkness. There he slept terribly and dreamed of Anna Keller being killed. He was powerless to stop the murderer he could never see. It was just the flash of a saber raised high in the air and striking down. He awoke in the pale morning light, early enough where the air still felt cool.

After breakfast, they were visited by the girl sent by Mulholland. She had shyly come into the office asking to see the detective. Introducing herself as Mary Moore, Jack paid her with a ten dollar coin. He couldn't decide if she was pretty or not. She was short and pudgy, but had a certain girlish innocence that would appeal to an older man. Her hair was a dirty blond and pulled back into a sloppy knot. Her eyes were tired with exhaustion \- clearly she lacked sleep after a hard night's work. Ezra stood at the doorway and listened in as she told her story.

Moore's voice had the sweetness of a younger girl as she spoke. "It was a booming business that Friday. A whole group of soldiers were on leave. They were practically waiting in line, clear out of the door, and the money was coming in fast. The madam had to send out for some extra liquor more than once."

"How many men were there at a given time?" Jack asked.

"Oh, it's a big old house. We could have thirty or so men inside at the same time. I myself had the attention of several soldiers who were gathered around. Now I'm not going to brag, but I was getting more attention than lots of the girls there. There was this girl there, Bridgette – she never liked me – and she had half the customers I did. I don't think most men go for those stuck-up school teacher types."

Jack interrupted her musings and said, "When did you know that there was something amiss?"

She replied grumpily, "Hold on, I was getting there. After a bit, I noticed that the girl Simone was missing. She is a pale little redhead – I think she was only sixteen. At least that's what she said. Anyways, I thought she must have gotten a good paying customer and couldn't make it down to work the floor again. Well, a bit later in the night I realized that she was still gone. One of the soldiers commented on his missing friend and thought it would be a good gag if they go break up their long-winded session. They were all awfully drunk, and they all roared with laughter at the idea. A group of five or so went up to her room, and they barged right on in. They saw what happened and started shouting for help, and I ran up there with the madam after we heard their yelling. It was too late to do anything - they were both dead." She licked her lips nervously as she remembered that awful sight.

"Now think back for a moment," Jack said. "The soldier who was killed - do you remember his name?"

She furrowed her brow in thought and said, "Quinn? Or was it Queen? At least that's one of the soldiers standing next to me said: poor Quinn."

"What did he look like?" Ezra asked.

"I remember his face – seeing him dead on that bed froze that memory right into my soul. He had brown hair and a thin moustache. He looked plenty young."

Jack impatiently asked, "What happened after they were discovered?"

"As I said, it was terrible seeing all that blood. The madam sent one of the men to get someone from the City Watch. Most of the customers took off right away – not wanting to be found by the police in a place like that. But a few of the dead man's friends waited around. They were all nervous and scared-like. But help came soon enough, and there were plenty of questions for them. In the end, the Captain of the Watch came and decided to let everyone go home. He told the madam it looked like the girl was probably murdered, and the boy couldn't take face it, so he killed himself."

"That sounds like our Henry," Ezra interjected sourly.

Jack held his hand up to quiet his partner. "Now Miss Moore, I want you to think very carefully after I ask you one more question. Is there any chance you know what division the dead soldier came from?"

"Oh, that's easy," she chirped. "It was the 27th New York Cavalry."

Jack asked in surprise, "Are you sure about that?"

She smiled and brightly said, "Sure I'm sure. They were bragging about how they were going to ride right down to Richmond and end the war. Every time a new round was brought out, they all toasted to the glory of the 27th. Of course every soldier does that kind of thing, but I remember it all the more because of what happened that night."

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with any of the soldiers there? Was anyone acting violent or strange?"

"You know how it is with these young boys. Plenty of them were drunk and acting wild. But no, I did not see anyone acting strangely towards us girls. Most of them are as shy as a preacher – that's until the bedroom door is shut. Then it is hands all over."

"And after all that, you decided to leave that house and go back to work on the streets?"

"Well, you never know - that place felt tainted after that. I was too afraid to go back." She pulled nervously on her sleeve.

"Miss Moore, I thank you for your time. If I have any more questions for you, I'll let Miss Mulholland know."

"Easiest ten dollars I ever made," she said with another easy smile, her eyelashes fluttering a small wink. "If there is anything else I can do for you, I'll be around."

Jack stood up and saw her to the front door. He watched her thoughtfully as she skipped down the stairs and out the front door.

"That was an interesting bit of information," his partner said after Jack sat back down behind his desk. "What do you think she charges for a ride?"

The detective laughed. "Keep your mind on business. She just confirmed what you found out yesterday."

"We have two murdered men and both were from the 27th. Henry must have known, but still he didn't tell us anything."

Jack took out a wrapped package of cigars and cut them open with his knife. He sniffed at them and pulled one out. They were the best he could afford right now, but they still smelled something terrible. Cutting the end off, he lit one and began to take a few tentative drags from it. The tobacco tasted like a damp rag. "Henry must be getting soft in his old age. He would never miss the connection unless he has his reasons."

"Reasons for what?"

"Perhaps we should go visit him and find out."

*

Garrett looked at them with puffy, tired eyes. After listening to Jack's accusations, he merely nodded and let his shoulders slump. "As soon as I saw those dead bodies in that little house, I knew there was connection between the two sets of murders. They were too similar to just be a coincidence. When Charles Folks came to see me, I was afraid that we would find more of the same."

"Good God, man. If you knew it, why didn't you say anything? How could you tell that boy's father that his son was a murderer?" Jack asked.

Ezra snorted in disgust.

Reaching into a desk drawer, Garrett pulled out a pint of scotch and some dusty glasses. He pulled the cork top off and filled three of them up. After passing them around, he leaned back into his chair. "I know you think I'm being a fool, but I have my own good reasons for keeping this a secret."

"I would like to hear your reasons," Jack stated in flat tones. "If there is a crazed killer running loose, then he must be stopped before he strikes again."

Henry let out a long sigh and said, "This is a different type of killer than anyone has ever seen before. If there is a reason for him to murder like that, then I haven't figured it out yet. The torture has an almost ritual aspect to it."

Putting his glass on the desk, Jack said in a low voice, "Tell me what you saw in that night at the brothel."

"It was a man named Samuel Quinn – a private from the 27th. He went to there with a couple of his friends from the division. He apparently had never been to a whorehouse before and was most nervous about the whole experience. He went off with a girl called Simone Osborne, which probably isn't her real name. After a while, his friends were wondering where he went to when they decided to go find out. They found the two of them laid out dead on the bed. After I was called in, I went into the room. I can tell you that the violence was much greater than when Folks was murdered."

"In what way?" Ezra asked.

Garrett finished his drink with one final gulp and topped off his glass again. "In the case of Folks, the killer had plenty of time to torture before he killed that girl, Miss Clayton. With Osborne and Quinn, he was obviously much hastier. The cuts were quick, deep and chaotic. There wasn't any sign of them being tied up; the killer just rushed in and made a quick job of it."

"It must have been his first kill," Jack interrupted, "The blood would have spattered all over the assailant. How could he have walked out of that house without being noticed?"

The captain took another sip. "That's a damn good question. It was night, and as you know, those places aren't well lit. I guess it keeps the clients from guessing the age of the women they are seeing. Most of the soldiers that were there had already fled before my men could get there. If anyone saw anything, they weren't willing to step forward to tell us about it."

"Someone must have seen something," Ezra said stubbornly. "A man can't be covered with blood and walk the streets without being seen."

Garrett merely shrugged and topped everyone's glass off including his own. A small puddle of liquid had collected on the desk under each of their glasses, sticking them to the wood in the growing heat of the day.

Jack took a sip and said, "Let me ask you one more question – why didn't you tell us any of this when we discovered Folks body?"

"I was asked by Captain Ellsworth of the 27th to keep my investigation on hold until he could do some further checking of his own. He was ordered by the colonel to investigate that first killing and was ordered to keep it secret. The colonel thought it would be for the best right now since they don't want anyone in the division to panic. He didn't want the morale of his men to be hurt before they first saw battle. Trust me, I wanted to tell you – but the Watch is already on shaky political ground."

"In what way?" Jack asked.

The captain frowned. "There is some talk of replacing us – rumors that we can't handle the new demands put on us. I didn't want to go and start a battle with the Army. They have their own investigators, and I thought they could handle this situation better than we could."

"Ezra, I think it's time we go have another talk with Captain Ellsworth." He had a grim smile on his face as he turned to his partner.

Nodding, Ezra put his glass down at the table and stood, ready to leave.

"That Ellsworth bears watching," Garrett warned. "He has a mean streak and can be a hard man to deal with."

"The captain will find out the same is true with me," Jack said harshly. He wasn't about to let any two-bit captain stop him. "Come on, Ezra, let's first go back and grab some lunch."

Ezra nodded. They headed back to the office.

Miss Keller's diary, resumed

July 14

_Men never cease to amaze me. Mister Folks, now that we have spent some time apart, tells me that he was never certain that James was right for me. What a strange thing to say to your son's_ fiancée. _He told me he supported the idea of James marrying me since he thought it would help settle his son down. In other words, he agrees with marriage in general, just not James's marriage to me in particular. Not that I am a girl who is wrong for marrying, he says. Really it is all absurd. If I had not been questioning my own reasons for wanting to marry James maybe I would not be so offended. I hated to have to listen to such nonsense. I was extremely angry. It was almost as if I were being scolded. Now that we have been alone for a while it seems that he has been grieving for James in his own way._

Later

I finally have the strength to write of what I learned from Mister Blackwood yesterday - James was killed while visiting a prostitute! I never in my wildest dreams could have thought he'd betray my memory that way. First, Mister Garrett came to visit us at the hotel, and was quite sympathetic. I had wondered if Mister Folks had more to tell me after he returned from his seeing the body. Aside from his hints about James's unsuitability for me, he seemed a little preoccupied. I expected to hear more details from him, but he wasn't saying much, and I didn't feel like I should pry into his thoughts. Mister Garrett acted as the soul of an official, sympathetic visit, and gave us very little new knowledge.

Since Charles and Mister Garrett were not giving me the information I wanted, I made it over to Mister Blackwood's office to get the whole story. He wanted to keep the truth from me, but eventually he gave in and told me. At any rate, this was not what I wanted to hear. I think Mister Blackwood did not want to tell the whole story, which is pretty gruesome, while I was there. But I felt I owed it to James and our past together to know the whole truth. How he was found also tells me why Mister Folks would not mention it earlier: I am sure he was ashamed and embarrassed for James. Perhaps he was too delicate, and thinking of my feeling for James, so he kept it from me.

Another thing I hate to think about is why James even felt it necessary to visit this girl. We had our share of passionate moments, I know, but it never amounted to all that much. I wanted to be virtuous. I suppose there was one other thing I could have given him beside a locket. I had thought I'd be happy to give it to him: just as happy to do that as to marry him, but now I won't get the chance to do either of those things. I wonder if my virtue was all that necessary now. The guilt I feel, that he was driven to do such a thing, makes me ashamed. But what makes me feel worse is that as much as I hate the thought of his leaving my life forever, his death relieves me of the burden of my doubting feelings of him.
Chapter 8

With the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, there was a knock at the door before it was opened. In stepped a well-dressed soldier with polished boots. His uniform marked him as a major – heavy gold braid and double rows of gold buttons. He was tall, blonde and had an open honest face with a bright smile. He looked Jack and Ezra slowly over before speaking.

He asked, "Am I speaking to Mister Blackwood and Mister Miller?" he asked. His voice was firm and confident.

Jack nodded and said, "That is correct, sir. And who am I addressing?"

"Ah, I forgot my manners. I'm Major Calvin Hall. I've been sent by General McDowell to speak with you."

Motioning to the visitor's chair, the detective said, "Major, why don't you have a seat and tell us why you came here."

"Very well," the soldier replied and brushed the chair seat off before sitting. Ezra minutely shook his head when he saw this display. The major was fastidiously dressed and had the look of man who was ever-concerned about the state of his clothes. He removed his hat and used it to fan his face as he looked greedily at the whiskey bottle on the desk. He licked his lips before saying, "It's a hot day and I was glad I could see you before you left again. I tried stopping by before, but you were both gone."

"My partner and I have been busy making inquiries of late." The detective pulled the bottle towards himself and began to study it.

"That's why I've come on by. It seems that the War Department is tired of having Charles Folks causing such a ruckus."

"Rich men are used to getting their way," Ezra commented.

"They are at that," Hall said in a way that meant he belonged to that camp. "McDowell has been increasingly bothered by this man's inquiries and wanted me to look into the matter on his behalf," he added proudly. Again his eyes returned to the whiskey bottle.

Jack was not surprised that Folks would try to make his influence felt, and that he had gone over the head of Franklin. "What can we do for you then?" he asked.

"I've learned from Mister Folks that you were making certain inquiries."

"I won't deny it."

"Have you reached any conclusions?"

"None that I would wish to share yet."

Hall made a face and said in a more friendly voice. "I hate to ask such a thing, but this heat is something terrible. Do you have something to drink?"

Jack barked out a laugh and said, "I've been wondering when you were going to ask me that." He reached into his desk drawer for three glasses. He poured a shot for everyone and pushed the glass towards the major who grabbed it to take a drink. His partner checked his watch and merely held on to the glass without imbibing.

With a happy sigh, the major put the drained glass down and said, "I thank you for the drink, sir – that is some damn fine whiskey."

Filling up the major's glass again, Jack said, "Here, have another." He knew that Hall was trying to flatter him, but it didn't matter. He would have liked this man no matter how they would have met, even if he was a tad too fastidious.

"As I was trying to say, Mister Blackwood, the army is most interested in this case. We obviously don't want to spread panic to the troops and wish to keep this as secret as possible. I've been asked to sound you out on this matter."

"My partner and I are known for discretion," Jack said simply.

Major Hall took a sip from his glass, looked at the detective from under his eyebrows and said, "I must admit I've done some checking up on you. The War Department records show that you were in the army for quite some time. It also showed that you were in trouble more often than not."

"I won't deny that."

"But the records also show you were commended several times for acts of bravery," he said with a smile before finishing off the glass of with one gulp.

Jack merely shrugged and said, "I'm happy to hear that – but I'm not sure why you are telling me this."

"There was some concern at the War Department about you. There was talk of making you remove yourself from your investigation. But I persuaded them that you and Mister Miller here were the type of men that would best help us. We don't have the resources or the knowledge of the city of Washington that you do. If we could work together perhaps everyone would be better served."

"Perhaps you are right," Jack said as he tasted his own drink. He thought it was too warm for whiskey as it burned the back of his throat. He swallowed uncomfortably and cleared his throat to say, "If you can get some information for us, then I will gladly share what I know."

"Very well, what do you need?"

"First of all, there is Captain Ellsworth at the 27th. Where did he come from, and what is his record? Also, I wouldn't mind knowing more about the colonel there – what kind of officer is he?"

"Perhaps the major would have the entire records of the 27th searched?" Ezra diplomatically suggested. "Does anyone of them have a criminal record, or have they been in trouble while in the army?"

"My friend here has a good point," Jack commented.

Hall nodded eagerly. "I can look into these matters with you. I will pass on the word. Once I hear something back from the War Department, you will be the first to know. Is there anything else?"

"Perhaps you would like to share some lunch with us?" Jack offered.

*

When they arrived at the camp after a lunch with Major Hall, Corporal Ferran was doing guard duty. He watched them ride up.

"Back to guard duty again?" Jack asked.

Ferran rolled his eyes. "After I talked to you, Captain Ellsworth wasn't too happy with me. He came by and gave me this duty again as punishment."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jack said as he pushed himself off the saddle. His partner followed suit.

Ferran said, "I'll bet you will want to see the colonel again about Folks?"

"Yes, corporal, is he around?" the detective said as he tied his horse to the hitching post.

"Yes, he's here all right. As you may have heard we're all getting ready to move out in a couple of days, so we've been busy packing everything up. Ever since the word has gotten around about Folks, the boys are rarin' to get out of this city. They're starting to think that this division is cursed, losing two of our boys that way."

Jack was surprised that the news of the lieutenant's death was now common knowledge.

"His death was supposed to be a secret. Have you heard anything else about it?" Ezra asked.

"Well, sir, it wasn't much of a secret. We all knew something was going on once he went missing. I mean there are plenty of rumors floating about. The captain gets plenty mad when he hears us talking about it. Not that anyone listens to him much. Some of the boys think another division is out to get us – afraid we're going to take all the glory. I don't take much stock in that. I would think it is some rebel spy trying to break our spirit. Make us scared before we even have a chance to see them in a good fight."

"So you don't believe that the lieutenant killed himself?" Jack asked.

"He's not the type." The young corporal nodded his head confidently. "He was too proud of himself, and I've never seen him act like crazy man."

Jack said, "Ezra and I are looking into it and hope to find out who is doing it soon enough. If you hear anything else, let me know."

"I will. Just go on in, the colonel should be there at his tent. He's been shouting out orders to his officers all day, and they're making the rest of us jump. I'll be glad to keep an eye on your horses for you until you get back."

"Thanks that would be much appreciated." Jack said.

As they entered the camp, the entire division was busy with activity – sweaty men were moving wagons, horses and supplies in the dense summer heat. Several soldiers suspiciously watched them pass and began to talk amongst themselves. It was obvious to Jack that they were tense with fear.

Going through a pile of paperwork, Ellsworth was sitting at a long and wide command table outside the colonel's tent. Riley was standing by his side, taking notes. The entrance of the large tent was closed. Ellsworth's expression was narrowed with concentration and worry. He looked up and tried to mask his distaste when he saw them arrive.

He snapped, "Good morning to you. I hope you can keep your visit short and to the point."

"I will try," Jack replied lazily. He was beginning to like this man less and less.

"You see, we will be moving out in a few days, and we have little time to waste answering your questions."

"I can see you've been busy packing," Jack said. "Are you going anywhere far from here?"

The captain gave them a rare smile and said, "The boys think we are riding straight to Richmond. I'm afraid the truth would only disappoint them."

Jack took out a cigar, cut off the tip, and struck a match on the sole of his boot. He lit the cigar and said, "Is Colonel Franklin about?"

"The colonel is busy right now," Riley piped up. He had been watching the detective and the captain converse with much interest.

"I wish to speak to him further about the Folks matter," Jack said.

"Ah, yes. It's too bad about the lieutenant – he didn't seem like the type to go and kill a girl and then kill himself. Such a shame." Ellsworth's voice was bland, almost flippant, and he began to study the papers in front of him once again.

Jack leaned over and growled, "Go and get your colonel." He then pushed the papers off the table and they fluttered down to the ground. Lieutenant Riley jumped back in surprise.

Ellsworth stood up with his eyes blazing in anger. He began to draw out the sword hanging on his side.

Ezra grinned and nonchalantly rested his hand on the butt of his big Navy Colt pistol.

Catching sight of this movement, the red color on Ellsworth's cheeks gave away and the captain then gave a faint frown. He said, "Very well, sir – the colonel is a busy man who can't spend all day talking to you. I hope what you have to say is important."

"It is."

"For now I shall overlook this slight." The sword slid back into the scabbard. He pushed Riley roughly towards the tent.

At that moment, the tent flap opened. Franklin took a step out to join them. He managed to neatly step aside, avoiding a collision with the lieutenant. "Watch yourself, my good man," he said as he steadied the young man. "I'm sorry, Mister Blackwood, I was busy praying for the future of my men until I heard your raised voices. Most of these boys have never seen a battle before, and I trust to God they can return home safely." He looked at the papers on the ground with some mild amusement. "Captain Ellsworth, I see you dropped some papers. Clean them up – I wouldn't want to give the men any bad ideas about my officers. For their sake, we must be model soldiers."

"Yes, sir," Ellsworth said glumly, giving the detective a stare filled with hate. He began collecting the scattered papers. Riley went to help him.

"Now then," Franklin said, "what further news do you have of Lieutenant Folks? We were told he was found dead with a woman who was not his fiancée – a woman of let's say, questionable morals."

"And how did you learn that?" Jack suspected that Garrett had informed the captain of the latest suspicious death.

"Oh, word gets around," the colonel said.

"Yes, he was found dead with another woman. They were both cut up pretty badly before they died."

"That's such a shame that he had to die in such a terrible manner. His father must have been most distressed when they heard the news that his son committed suicide."

"They were at that," Jack said. "But I have reason to believe they were both murdered."

"That's preposterous," Ellsworth said as he stood up, clenching the papers in his fist. "They weren't murdered. Any fool can see that."

"Calm yourself," Franklin snapped with a commanding voice. "Let's give them a chance, Captain, and hear them out." He smiled at Jack and said tolerantly, "Don't mind him. Please go on and tell us how you reached these conclusions."

Jack looked back and forth between the two officers. Surely they must know about the murder of Private Quinn. What were they trying to hide? He started, "Ezra and I were the first to arrive at the scene. When my partner went to get Garrett and Mister Folks, I had enough time to examine the bodies closely. I found some marks on their ankles and wrists that indicated they were tied to the bed before being killed. After the job was done, the killer removed the ropes and left with them."

Ellsworth interrupted, "You're basing your assumption of their murder on some marks on the skin? That sounds most far-fetched to me."

"I also have some further evidence that I would rather not divulge at this very moment."

"You're bluffing," Ellsworth said coolly.

Franklin was watching them impassively with the faintest of smiles on his lips. He appeared to enjoy watching them argue. He then rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, "You must admit the captain has a point. Unless you can tell us anything further, I have a hard time believing that Folks was killed by someone else's hand."

Jack sighed and said, "You see, Colonel, this is why I stopped by. I know you gentlemen are lying to me. Now I want to have a frank discussion of the events that have occurred, and what you are doing about it."

Franklin was startled, clearly taken aback by this charge.

"And just what are we supposed to be hiding?" Ellsworth said with his voice edged with anger.

"I've learned that last week Friday, another one of your men died. A Private Quinn was found dead at a whorehouse in the company of a prostitute working there. Their wounds were similar to that of Folks and his companion. I just wondered why you pretend not to know anything about it. Surely the killings must be connected."

Riley looked uncomfortable and the sheaf of papers fell from his hand.

Ellsworth's face was turning a dark shade of red, and he was about to speak before Franklin cut him off.

The colonel said, "Gentlemen, we are well aware of the similarities between the two events. We thought it was prudent if our men knew as little as possible. They are about to go into battle for the first time and have enough to worry about. Why should my soldiers need to worry about a single killer when they are about to face an entire army?"

"I can see that your men are afraid for their lives right now."

"That is why, on my orders, the captain here is doing his own investigation. He has been questioning people and gathering evidence."

"And can I ask what conclusion the good captain here has reached?" Ezra interjected.

Ellsworth replied, "I afraid I haven't come to any conclusion yet – I'm still making inquiries."

Jack said angrily, "The captain here is a fool – someone is murdering your men, and yet you take no action. It's best that we share the information that we do have before more are killed."

"There's nothing I can give you right now," Ellsworth said hotly. "Anyways, we will be riding out in just a few days. I'm sure the killings will stop once we leave."

"What would you have me do?" Franklin asked, clearly agitated. "My men would practically mutiny if they weren't allowed their liberty before going to battle. Surely nothing more could happen before we leave Washington. It will only be a few more days before we are free of this vile city and whoever is stalking us."

Jack weighed his words before speaking. "From the evidence I have on-hand, I would surmise that the murderer is someone in this very camp."

"That's impossible," Ellsworth said, his face flushing red with anger again.

Ignoring his captain, Franklin asked, "And just how did you come to that conclusion?"

The detective explained, "It is fairly simple, sir. Whoever did the killings knew where your men would be. The first killing at the whorehouse - that could have been an off-chance thing. But once you add in the Folks killing, it's obvious that the murderer knew both of the men by sight. He knew that they were members of your division. He would have to be aware of who Folks was going to see and how to get to him. That means that it is someone who is either in camp, or someone who is waiting outside to see where your men go. The latter makes little sense since this is an area that is heavily patrolled. If they did not have due cause to be there, any stranger would be eventually be noticed and interrogated."

Ellsworth had regained his composure and said, "If that is true, Mister Blackwood, then there is one thing I do not understand. Why were the both of them killed while in the company of a prostitute? Why not take care of business in some dark alleyway?"

Jack replied lamely, "That's a good question, and one I have been grappling with. If I have the answer to that, I'll let you know."

"What do you suggest we do?" Franklin asked the detective. "If my men think they are being hunted down one by one, then all hell will break out in the ranks."

"I want to join your division."

"What?" Ezra asked before anyone else could say anything. His eyes were wide with astonishment. "I'm not about to join the army." It was obvious that the colonel and captain were equally taken aback by the suggestion.

Jack shot his partner a reassuring glance and said, "What my friend is trying to say is this will be of a temporary nature. I want to have a look around here and ask a few questions of your men. They would be more willing to listen to us if we were considered part of the ranks."

"We have no room for civilians here," Ellsworth said, his voice hard and unyielding.

Franklin was deep in thought, scratching at his chin. After a pause, he said, "Can you fight? As you know we have received our marching orders and will be moving out soon. Any help from a veteran would be much appreciated."

Jack didn't want to reel off every past battle and merely said, "We're both good riders and can shoot well. Before I came to Washington, I used to be a scout for the army. I've seen my share of trouble, and my partner here has saved my hide on several occasions - he's a fair shot and can handle himself in any situation." Jack knew he was gambling on Ezra's help, but assumed he'd be able to convince him it would all work out for the best.

"There's going to be a problem. They don't allow men of his race to join up," Ellsworth said coolly.

Jack sighed and replied, "We won't be here as official soldiers - we will be working directly for the colonel. Consider us civilian laborers who are giving you a hand in getting this unit up to snuff."

The colonel paced back in forth in thought. He stopped and looked hard at the two of them. He finally said, "Very well, Mister Blackwood, the two of you can join us for the time being. Don't be surprised if you get in some hard riding or end up catching a bullet for your troubles."

"That's the risk we're willing to take, sir. We'll be on our way to collect some things and be returning in the morning." With those words he saluted the colonel and turned and left.

*

As they neared the gate, Ferran raised his hand and saluted the detectives. "I hope you two will be coming back soon. Some of the boys saw that you got the captain real upset. Any man who does that is surely a friend of mine."

"We'll be back soon enough and even stay for a while," Jack said.

"Now what do you mean by that?"

"Well, Ezra here has never been in a war before, so we decided to join your division and check it out."

"I would be happy enough to stay here in Washington," the black man grumbled.

Ferran didn't appear to hear Ezra and said, "You're joining up? I don't understand – you're civilians. You haven't gone through training or anything."

"I told that colonel of yours about my time in the army. Since this entire division is so green, he thought a little help might be in order. So we're going to join up and lend him a hand. I told you I was in the cavalry out west. Once I have you boys sorted out, you'll be ready to whip that whole gang of rebels."

"Don't that beat all." Ferran looked surprised, but proud at the same time, as if he had had a hand in their joining the division. "Should I be saluting you?" he asked, half-joking.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Corporal, I'm sure we won't receive any kind of rank. We're just here to help out for a spell. Now we have to go back home and pack first, but we'll be back in the morning."

"I'll probably be seeing you tomorrow since I won't be going anywhere. The captain is always finding something wrong and putting me on guard duty."

Jack had a sudden thought and said, "That reminds me – the night that Folks left to see that girl. Did the captain also leave that night?"

Ferran rubbed his head in thought. "Now that you mention it, Ellsworth did leave some time just after Folks did."

"Did he give a reason?" Ezra asked.

"Colonel Franklin had a meeting at the War Department. It was apparently a big to-do with the other generals and all that. The captain is normally in charge when the colonel is gone, so it was surprising when Ellsworth also left. He told me he had to deliver some papers that were forgotten by the colonel. But the funny thing was the captain didn't take his horse but went out on foot. It's a good distance from here to the meeting. Maybe he was going to grab a taxi."

"What can you tell me about that boy Riley? He certainly seems to jump for the colonel."

"Ha! We've all noticed that. He tries hard to look good in his uncle's eyes."

"Anything to it?" Ezra asked.

"I've talked to him. That boy is afraid of doing anything wrong. Apparently his father is rather poor, and the family depends on the colonel for money. The lad has been told to follow orders. You can see that he fears doing anything wrong."

Jack slipped a few dollar coins to Ferran and said, "We'll be back tomorrow morning, Corporal. Go out and buy a few bottles for you and your friends – enjoy yourself on my money." It was a good idea to start the future introductions on the right foot.

"Yes, sir!" he exclaimed as he looked down at the coins in his hand.
Chapter 9

"And what have you found out so far?" Charles Folks asked impatiently. The detectives had decided to visit him at his hotel to give an update on the investigation. Their employer appeared to have regained his composure from yesterday and had the same hard business face as before. He stood in front of a chair and any visible sign of mourning was gone except for a black band of cloth wrapped around an arm

Anna Keller was sitting in the other chair, wearing a new black dress with a thin veil hanging over her face. When her eyes met Jack's, they flashed with a hidden welcome.

Jack replied, "Ezra and I did some investigatory work, and it turns out I was right about your son being murdered. It seems there was a previous murder that the division is still investigating."

"A previous murder? By God, who was killed then?"

"A private named Quinn. He died just the other week and was in the same division as your son. After I learned the facts about these pair of killings, it is my opinion that it was done by the same individual. Both times there was a girl involved." Jack glanced at Anna and could see a faint smile that disappeared quickly. She must not have told Charles Folks of her brief conversation at Jack's office. "After questioning Colonel Franklin and his captain, we have come to the conclusion that someone within the camp is most likely responsible."

Charles Folks sat down, squeezing his large frame into the chair. He sighed before saying, "So you were right after all. My offer still stands. I want you to get whoever did this and make them pay. I'll give you whatever money you need."

"I will do whatever is necessary. My partner and I have offered our temporary services to the colonel, and he has agreed to take us on. If you need to contact us, we will be staying at the camp. That will give us time to investigate and further question the soldiers there."

"You will be putting yourself into grave danger. Once the man responsible for these murders knows that you are there, he will take steps to see that you are silenced."

"That's true," Ezra said with some concern.

Jack said, "Whoever did this will be immediately suspicious of us, but that may work to our benefit."

"Are you going to trick them out of hiding?" Folks asked.

"I do believe we are dealing with a different type of murderer - someone who is not interested in revenge or greed. Those are the usual motives for killing, but this is unlike anything I have ever seen before. We will have to force them into making a move against us. Only then will we be able to determine who it is."

Anna finally spoke and said shyly, "What do you mean by a different type of murderer?"

He wanted to spare her any further grief, so Jack said, "This really is not a proper conversation for a lady to be hearing."

"I agree," Folks added. "You're still too upset to listen to this kind of talk about blood and murder. Perhaps you should retire to your own room and wait there until we are finished."

With surprising firmness, Anna said, "James was to be my husband. If I cared about him at all when he was alive, I should care about him now that he is dead." She said that final word without hesitating. "It is my right to hear Mister Blackwood – so please do go on."

Jack looked at Folks, who just shrugged his shoulders. Apparently he had a weakness for the girl and her demands. The detective continued on and said, "Very well, if you want me to stop anytime, please let me know." He paused and watched her as she looked on with apparent interest. She kept a brave face on and waited for him to go on talking. "At both scenes of the crime, there was a certain amount of unnecessary bloodlust and cruelty. Normally when a man strikes in anger to kill, it is short and violent. Enough force is used to kill and perhaps a little more to insure that the victim is dead. This was not the situation with your son or Private Quinn. Both killings had signs of torture and unspeakable cruelty that I haven't seen since my days out West."

Anna was biting her lip and her hands were trembling. She kept her eyes steadily on Jack.

"I saw what happened in that room," Folks said savagely. "Are you telling me there is someone in the 27th that is targeting soldiers from his own division? The idea sounds absolutely insane."

"On that face of it, I would agree it sounds impossible. But our killer would have to know where those two men were going in order to murder them. That would take specialized information. Either someone on the inside is feeding information to the killer, or he is living in the camp. We will let you know when we find out who it is. Now we shall have to return back to the office to prepare for our stay - the division will be on the march soon."

Folks raised an eyebrow. "So they finally decided to show those rebels a thing or two. Rumors of MacDowell's march to Manassas have been flying all over the city."

"The rumors appear to be true. MacDowell will have little chance of surprise."

"This war has been bad for business, and I hope there will be an end to it soon. I'm sure James would have been excited to go into the fight, but he was a young man easily swayed by his emotions."

"Please, Charles, don't think that way about him," Anna said and reached over to pat his hand.

Jack felt a pang of jealousy and was surprised by it. He also wondered why the two of them should be on a first-name basis, given their difference in age, and the fact of their intended relationship. He put the thoughts from his mind and returned to business. He said, "We will be gone for a few days. How much longer do you plan to stay in Washington?"

"I have already made arrangements for my son's body to be sent back to New York by train. I will be wrapping up my business here soon enough. I pray you will have some information for me by then. I'm afraid to leave the city without knowing that his murderer has been captured."

"We will see to that," Jack said simply. He tipped his hat to Anna and turned to leave with Ezra trailing silently behind. He noticed that his partner was not in a speaking mood – clearly he had some thoughts that he did not want to share yet.

When they reached the lobby of the hotel, they turned as they heard footsteps running from behind. Anna ran up and breathlessly said, "If I could have a word with you, Mister Blackwood."

Jack nodded and waved Ezra onwards. He had felt uncertain talking to Anna with the audience of Ezra and Folks and was hoping to just see her one last time before he left.

His partner just smiled broadly and said, "I'll be waiting for you outside."

Waiting until his friend was gone, Jack said, "Well, Miss Keller, of what service can I be to you?"

"I hate to ask this and I know how busy you are right now – but I have never been to Washington before. Charles has practically kept me prisoner since we've got here. I'm going crazy with boredom stuck in my hotel room. I've read all of my books and there is nothing left to keep me entertained. Would you be kind enough to escort me through the city and show me some of the sights?"

Jack looked at her with some surprise. He wasn't expecting this kind of invitation, and even though he was short on time, he knew he would acquiesce. He replied, "Ezra and I have to pack some things up first, but I may have some free time later this evening."

"That is good to hear," she said playfully.

"I will show you some of the attractions of our fair town and perhaps afterwards we could have some supper? I know of a good quiet spot where we can talk." He said this last part with only a slight quaver in his voice. She was too much of a lady to want to be this familiar with him.

Anna blushed lightly. "I would be honored to do so. Is there anything I should bring with me?"

"Don't you worry about a thing - I will hire a surrey from the livery and pick you up at five. I'll see that a good picnic is packed for us."

"You're too kind, Mister Blackwood." She then quickly kissed him on the cheek and ran hurriedly back towards the stairs.

Jack rubbed his cheek in astonishment and then laughed at himself. Perhaps this evening wouldn't be wasted after all. He walked outside into the blinding sun. He climbed up on his saddle.

"What did she want?" his waiting partner asked with a voice that hid laughter.

"Oh, not much," Jack replied as he urged his horse onward. "She just wants to see Washington like any old tourist."

The streets were crowded with the usual assortment of soldiers and townspeople on their business. Crowded carriages lumbered along the choked, dusty streets, dodging past heavily laden supply wagons.

They rode on for a few minutes before Jack said, "She's getting bored sitting inside that hotel room waiting for news from us. Mister Folks won't take her anywhere. She wants to get out and see our city. She asked me to take a free moment this evening and escort her."

"I see," Ezra commented dryly. He slowed down to let a young couple cross the street. "And you agreed to do this?"

"After we pack, there will be plenty of time left in the evening. I thought I could show her the Capitol Building and the White House. Then I thought we would have some supper on the riverbank."

Ezra shook his head and grinned. "My goodness, you are a fast customer. That girl just learned yesterday that her fiancé is dead, and you're ready to court her."

"I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do," his partner said slyly.

"Look, Ezra, I just want to find out more about James Folks. Was there something particular about him that made the murderer pick him among all those other potential victims? What was the reason he was killed?"

"That's obvious to me."

Jack only showed mild astonishment and looked at his friend to say, "Is it? Let me hear your point of view on the matter."

Ezra was confident as he returned the stare of his partner. "As you said before, this isn't your normal kind of murderer. This is someone who is fixated on one thing and one thing alone. You are concentrating too much on the men and ignoring the prostitutes."

"What about them?" Jack asked. He did not figure that they mattered much at all. They were merely there as objects to destroy in front of the soldier's eyes.

"I was thinking about what would make a man hate enough to kill like that. Notice how in both cases the girls were the most brutalized. Now why would a man do something like that?"

Jack thought for a moment before answering. "I can think of a couple reasons, Ezra. For one, perhaps our killer fell in love with a prostitute. Such a man would feel betrayed when he found out her profession. He would want to take his revenge. It fits well with what we know."

He nodded at the detective. "I was thinking along those lines as well at first. But then I thought of a man who caught a disease from such a girl. He may have waited too long to receive the mercury treatment, and that could have affected his mind. Perhaps he became fixated on blaming the girl instead of his own weakness for sex. He would want to punish them instead of being responsible for his own actions."

"It's an interesting idea, Ezra, and one we should keep in mind. Perhaps Garrett would have an idea of such a person. But that still doesn't explain why both the man and the woman were both killed at the same time. Why not just target the girls?"

"Who can explain the workings of a mad man?"

"If I have my way, we'll find out soon enough."

It was Ezra's turn to look at Jack with astonishment. "Do you already have someone in mind?"

"It's fairly obvious isn't it? Captain Ellsworth was out of the camp when Folks was killed. Ellsworth is leading the investigation into Quinn's death; yet nothing has come of it. Who has been fighting our investigation into this matter from the very beginning? My bet is that the captain is our man."

"I know he is a jackass, but you really believe that pompous fool could be our main suspect?"

"That's why I wanted to join the camp. I noticed you were not happy with my decision. I have to tell you that I have no great urge to march and fight either. But Ellsworth bears watching. This is the only way we can closely see his every movement. Whoever it is, once we are there, it will be more difficult for him to do any more harm to the soldiers. We will find some useful evidence, and then we can put a stop to it all."

"I hope you are right," Ezra said. He did not sound convinced.
Chapter 10

Jack arrived at the hotel a little later than he had planned. It was just after five o'clock - getting the surrey from the livery and having it cleaned took longer than he had anticipated. His own mare was being used to pull it and the detective imagined the horse's feelings were hurt from the indignation of being used in such a poor manner. He also thought that Anna would become impatient and had decided to go back to her room instead of waiting for a man far beneath her station. But his worries were needless as she ran out of the hotel as soon as he pulled up. Quickly hopping off the wagon, he went to meet her on the sidewalk. She was still wearing the same black dress, but had a red ribbon tied in her long black hair. A wide black hat festooned kept out the glaring sun.

"Mister Blackwood, I'm glad to see you finally made it." She was in a nervous state and glanced behind her shoulder. Perhaps she was afraid of being discovered by Folks.

"It is my pleasure," Jack said in all honesty.

"I was beginning to worry that you decided to spend your time elsewhere."

"I'm sorry I'm late. But I must say you are looking quite beautiful." And she was at that. Her creamy white skin was enhanced by the black outfit and her long black hair.

"Thank you, Mister Blackwood. I appreciate your compliment as I hardly feel beautiful when I wear this color."

Jack helped her up into the surrey and sat down next to her. He gave the horse a gentle slap with the reins and they began to move along. He said, "So tell me, Miss Keller, how did you convince Mister Folks to let you go on this little trip?"

Anna laughed and shyly said, "It didn't take any convincing at all. I just told him I was retiring early for the day since I wasn't feeling very well. I then snuck down to the lobby and waited for you to arrive. I was worried when you were late and was afraid he would go out on some errand and see me."

"I must say that I am surprised."

"Oh, you shouldn't be. Once you get to know me, you'll find that I'm full of surprises." She blushed and pretended to find something of interest in one of the shop windows they passed.

Jack smiled to himself thinking of the possibilities that lay ahead. At this time of the day, the humidity was almost unbearable. He rubbed the back of his sweaty neck and adjusted the rake of his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. "We'll be coming up to the Capitol building soon." He pointed ahead. "As you can see, they're doing a little work on it right now." Several construction scaffolds hung, empty of workers, on the side of the dome.

She looked on without too much apparent interest. "I was expecting something more impressive," she finally commented.

"Funny, I said the same thing the first time I saw it. For a country this large, one expects to see something the size of the pyramids of Egypt. But don't worry, there is still plenty more to see. Next we'll ride on down the mall here towards the Washington Monument."

A few soldiers watched as they rode by. Jack couldn't help noticing the attraction and admiring stares that Anna gathered. However, most of the men were too hot to notice and more interested in sitting and finding some shade on the grassy hills. Even though it was unfinished, the Washington Monument stood tall in the distance. Before it had been surrounded by grazing cattle, but it had more recently been taken over for army needs. A small city of pitched tents stood low against the white obelisk, and the smoky cloud of a hundred cooking fires filled the air.

As they drew closer to the camp, Anna covered her mouth with a lacy handkerchief and began to cough. The air was stifling from the smoke and heat.

"Perhaps we should move on to the White House," Jack said with some worry in his voice. Anna did not appear to be enjoying herself much. Perhaps he could not keep a lady of her standing entertained by his talk.

"That sounds like a most excellent idea," she managed to say.

"I'm afraid you're not seeing this city in its best light. Before the war, this was an almost sleepy little town. It was mostly the home of senators, representatives, and the usual government workers."

"Tell me, Mister Blackwood, why do you live here?"

The question surprised Jack. "That's an odd question," he replied.

"I have an idea. Perhaps you would find more work if you moved to New York. We have so many people there and a number of rich families that would find your services most desirable. Then you could stop by and see me." She said the last words hastily as if she were embarrassed by her forwardness.

Taken aback, Jack replied back quickly, "That would be nice." He turned to look at her and saw her stare in return.

She went on and said, "What I meant to say is that if you moved to New York, I'm sure you would be successful."

"I'm sure I would. But, I've been there before, and it's too much city for my taste. There would be more competition for my type of work, and more of it that I wouldn't like to do."

"Like what kind of work?"

"Oh, the sordid lives of men and women when their marriage begins to fall apart -the type of thing that can happen to anyone when they are no longer in love."

"Yes, I can understand that," she said quietly. "Do you think we could we skip seeing the White House?"

"Why, we're almost there."

"I'm rather hungry right now."

"I brought us a packed supper. I know a good spot to picnic."

She smiled. "That would be wonderful. I must admit I am terribly hungry right now and would like to go somewhere quiet for a change."

The detective nodded and headed towards the Potomac. In a short while they passed out of the city proper and into a wooded field running near the river. Here the evening summer heat wasn't as bad with the nearby rushing water.

"Mister Blackwood, where exactly are you taking me?" Anna asked with a tremble in her voice. She eyed the remote area with suspicion.

"Don't worry, Miss Keller, this is just a place I like to go to once in a while when I need to do some thinking. I'm a farm boy at heart, and it's nice to get away from the crowd and stink of the city. There's a little spot right here where we can watch the river go by and have a bite to eat." Jack stopped the surrey in the empty field and jumped off to help her exit.

She shyly took his hand and stepped off to the ground. "If my mother could see me now, she would be very shocked. I was always told that I should always be chaperoned when I'm with a strange man."

"Your mother isn't here, so don't worry." He removed the blanket and basket from the back of the wagon and took a few tentative steps towards the river. "It's just a short walk this way." He pointed with his free hand to a copse of trees by the river.

Anna paused in thought before she grinned and walked over to Jack. She slipped her arm into his and said with a laugh, "Show me the way, my knight errant."

Jack led her down to the river near the trees. The sun was just beginning to slip behind the horizon. Spreading the blanket open, he then put down the picnic basket. "I think this will be a suitable place to eat," he said lamely.

Straightening the rough wool blanket, Anna sat down and began to rummage through the basket. "Now what did you bring us to eat, Mister Blackwood?"

"I went to the bakery and had some sandwiches made. I also managed to dig up a bottle of wine for us. I hope you won't mind drinking from the bottle - in my haste, I forgot to bring glasses." Jack began to struggle with the cork with his jackknife as she prepared two plates of food.

She passed him a plate with a sandwich and a cut of cheese. She then spoke rather quietly. "Jack, I do want to thank you again for spending this evening with me. I know you are busy trying to find poor James's killer."

Sitting down, Jack took a swig from the bottle of wine and made a face. "It's not bad, but I wouldn't make a hobby of it."

"Did you hear what I said?" she said impatiently.

He nodded and passed her the bottle of wine. Her question seemed to be forgotten as she held the bottle unsteadily in her hands, as if it were too big to be held. She slowly raised the bottle to her lips, her lips pursed uncertainly. Taking a bite of sandwich, Jack watched her take a drink with a cough. "Easy there. It's not exactly whiskey, but take it slow."

She wiped her lips with her sleeve and said, "I'm not used to drinking wine. Mother never allowed it in the house except on special occasions." She began to eat greedily. When she saw Jack watching, she grinned. "You must excuse me - I haven't had much to eat since I learned about James's death."

"That's understandable. Grief will do that to you. At first you think you'll never want to eat again, and then you don't want to do anything else but get your fill."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

He sighed momentarily and said, "I lost my wife a few years ago to a fever."

"Oh, I'm sorry. What was she like?"

Jack thought guiltily of his deceased wife. What would she think of him sitting at the river with such a young woman? He finally said, "My Mary was a fine wife. And a better woman than I deserved. Since we are talking of personal matters, I would like to ask you a few questions." He finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants.

"I'm not sure what you would want to ask me." She turned on her side and perched her head on the palm of her hand.

"You must understand I am only asking these types of questions because I think it's important to find out what happened to your fiancé. What can you tell me about him?"

"What do you want to know?" she said, staring across the river. Her voice was calm but tinged with sadness.

"I hate to dredge up any memories that will bring you grief, but exactly how did you meet him?"

"I'm not sure why this is important to you, but I'll tell you anyways. Our two families have been close for years. My father and his were part of the same firm. James and I have known each other ever since we were little children. It was only natural that were to be married. Everyone expected it, and they were most happy when we broke the news to them this year."

Jack thought he detected some sarcasm in her low voice. "But you weren't happy with the thought of marrying him?" He noticed the outline of her hips against the black dress. She was desirable and he couldn't help staring, though he knew there was something a little improper in it.

"I don't know if I should even be saying this \- James was the dearest friend I ever had, but I truly don't know if I ever loved him like a woman could love a man. Now I sound like a confused girl in a silly romance novel, but he was more of a brother to me than someone I ever wanted to be with forever. But that's what everyone else wanted." She said those last words with a twinge of guilt. "There I said it," she added with tears brimming in her eyes.

Jack waited uncomfortably as she wiped the tears away with her sleeve. She sniffled a few times and he handed over his handkerchief. "Please, keep it, Anna. I have little use for the things."

"Thank you. I'm sorry I broke down like that. I've been trapped in that hotel room for too long with Charles. He expects me to play the grieving widow to a man I never even had a chance to marry – a man I don't know if I even loved."

"And what kind of man do you want to love?" he asked, surprised by his own words.

She looked at Jack sternly and said, "What every woman wants is a strong man who is confident and sure of himself - a man to give her hope and direction in life."

Jack nodded slowly and put his hands together. "Mister Folks - I noticed he seems rather fond of you."

"He is overprotective, but he has been like a father to me ever since I lost mine four years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said solemnly and waited a moment before he went on. "I'm a man who is paid to find out things and sometimes that means asking difficult questions. From my impressions, I gather his interest in you runs a little deeper than just fatherly affection."

She turned to face him with her eyes wide in astonishment. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Mister Folks is not that old - he is still a fit man who appears to be in good health. His son is dead, but he still enjoys the company of his son's fiancée. You seem to have great respect for him. Tell me, does he have a happy marriage?"

She blushed and turned to face the river again. When she finally answered, her voice was cold. "Of course I respect Mister Folks: he is an important businessman. I wouldn't know anything about his marriage, and I'm not one to pry into his affairs."

When she had first started talking to him it was relaxed and open. Now her face was closed, and she had sat up, faced the river, and stared angrily away from Jack.

Jack sighed and took another drink from the bottle of wine. It was one of those things he should have gotten used to by now, he was so used to interviewing people about what they knew or what they had seen, and yet, it was often better to let people tell you the story rather than squeeze it out of them by asking one too many questions. He had gone too far now and tried to repair the damage.

He said, "Look, I'm sorry I asked those questions to you. You see, I have to get as much information as possible and look for motives of everyone involved. It can be a little rough. I'm not accusing you or him of anything but I need to know if Charles has any motive to see his son removed from his life."

"A motive? A motive for what?" Anna asked angrily. Her arms were crossed over her knees as she sat on the ground. "Someone murdered James, what does that have to do with Charles?"

"I'm not saying he is guilty, I'm just looking at what he could gain from his son's murder. How often does he come to Washington and has he ever met up with his son here before?"

With exasperation she said, "I know he was in Washington on business about two weeks ago. He planned to just stay the night and then take the train back. If he met up with James, he never told me anything about it."

"That's very interesting. Do you know the exact date he was here? That's about the time when that Private Quinn was killed."

"Are you accusing Mister Folks of his killing his own son? What would he gain by it?"

"For one, he could get himself a beautiful and young bride." Even as he said the words, he knew that she would become angry from the statement.

He was right. Anna stood up, her face twisted with spite. "Don't you dare to make that accusation – he's twice my age!" She leapt up from the blanket and began marching back towards the wagon with long purposeful strides.

"Now hold on there," Jack said as he got up to follow her. He quickly caught up and grabbed her by the hand.

She spun around, her face wet with tears. She suddenly put her arms around Jack and began to sob into his chest.

Jack held her tightly and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm just being an old fool and overly suspicious. Don't listen to me."

Clinging to him, she turned her head up and asked, "So you think I'm beautiful?"

"I do," he replied and leaned over to kiss her on the mouth.

Her lips were soft, and she readily returned his kiss. After a moment Anna abruptly pulled away and said, "I think it's time you took me back to the hotel." She turned and began running back as fast as she could towards the surrey, her black hair and red ribbon streaming out in a tangled wave.

Jack stood still and watched her retreating back. He shook his head at his own foolishness and went back to hastily stuff the picnic remnants back into the basket. Pulling the blanket off the ground, he clumsily carried everything back to the wagon. He did not know how he could face riding back to town with her, but he knew he had little choice in the matter.

Anna was waiting on the front seat with her arms folded, and her head held erect. Staring straight ahead, she made no sign of noticing his presence until Jack pulled himself up onto the seat. She moved over carefully on the bench seat to make sure that she was not touching him in any way.

Hunching his shoulders in resignation, Jack gently eased his horse ahead and headed back to the city. They rode in silence. If he pointed out a landmark of interest, Anna would show no signs of hearing him. After a while he gave up and concentrated on threading his way through the darkening streets. His anger at himself began to diminish as he drove on. Instead he began to grow angry with her.

As they neared the hotel, Anna suddenly put her hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I've been so confused lately and don't know what to do."

He checked his own simmering anger and instead said, "I think I understand. Please don't let it worry you. Whatever happened is my fault." He reined the horse in and stopped in front of the hotel.

Anna gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurriedly jumped down from the surrey before he had a chance to get off and help her. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Mister Blackwood. It's one I won't soon forget."

Miss Keller's diary

July 15 – early morning

Yesterday evening was full of excitement. Mister Blackwood agreed to show me some of the sights of Washington. Earlier when I asked him to, I wasn't sure that was what he really wanted to do since I sensed some hesitation in his voice. But he was willing enough when he came to pick me up. I have been away from home for quite a few days now, and it as if the rules do not apply here. I left the hotel, without the knowledge of Mister Folks, and went escorted by a single man, to an unknown destination. This is in defiance to that two-sided social rule, but what would be worse, to be alone with a married man? I always thought that rule to be biased. And I know I feel like taking risks right now. Life is short, look how short James's life was - why should I wait to experience the things I want to?

I have to say I was disappointed somewhat. Washington could be lovely, but right now it is not in its best colors. The streets are dusty and filled with wagon ruts. The trees, which seemed greener in New York, are a bit faded here, almost gasping for breath. I was disappointed with the monuments, but excited to leave the crowded city behind, even if I was worried about where Mister Blackwood was taking me, and how I could not call for assistance in a secluded area.

However, Mister Blackwood knew where to steer the horse to avoid the bad roads, the ride was smooth in the surrey, and he even brought some food. It was quite an adventure, to be out, alone, in an unfamiliar place, with that experienced man. Mister Blackwood, with all his forward manners, can be appealing. I think he is not really the kind of man I prefer, but I cannot fail to see his merits. He is determined to get at the truth of what happened to James that is easy to see. He seems to think there is more to this that he doesn't know, and that someone is keeping something from him. I am positive I have told him all that is necessary about James. Probably he is used to people trying to lie to him, or hide the truth. James did send a letter to me that I could have shared, but there are too many other personal things in it, that I wouldn't want anyone else to read. It is the letter which starts "Anna my darling, as I hold this paper, I imagine that I am holding you, and the touch of my pen is the soft caress of my hand on your hair, on your face..." I could not share that letter with anyone.

I was taken away by his passion when I read it, but now I wonder if he was really thinking of someone else, like the woman he was murdered with, instead of me. I should not be jealous of her, but there it is. In other parts of the letter he talks about the army. He mentions Ellsworth, Riley, and the colonel, and how the men feel about them. It seemed that Ellsworth was respected but not liked, and that the colonel was used to leading and the men trusted him naturally. Riley seemed to be his closest friend here. He also talks about some uneasiness in his regiment, and I thought he just meant nerves in general, but now I suppose he could have been meaning the murder of that Private Quinn. I suppose now that James is gone, I ought to burn his letters, but I feel that would be admitting that I am ashamed about what passed between us. If anything I am ashamed at my lack of courage, and I am resolved not to act that way again.
Chapter 11

Next morning, as they were preparing breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Ezra went to answer it and returned to the kitchen with Major Hall. The major had dark circles under his eyes and looked extremely tired. Like last time, he was still well-dressed and fastidiously groomed.

After a quick handshake, Jack motioned towards the table and poured out a cup of coffee for him. "Good morning, Major. What brings you around here this early in the morning?"

Ezra could see his friend had a lot of respect for Major Hall and acted the gracious host in response.

The major took a sip from his coffee and looked at it with appreciation. He sighed and visibly relaxed. "I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had a good cup of coffee. I was hoping to catch you this morning. I got the information that you requested."

"Ah, yes." Jack cracked some eggs into a bowl and began mixing them up. He wasn't expecting much from the official records, but there was always the hope that the murderer had slipped up in the past.

"As far as Captain Ellsworth is concerned, there is not much to go on. According to the records we have, he was a law clerk in New York City. He is unmarried and listed his parents as next of kin. From what information I was able to gather, he is a model citizen with no records of arrest. Just a nobody if you think about it."

"Go on," Jack said as he poured the eggs in the griddle to fry up.

"Colonel Peter Franklin came from a good family and was the youngest son of two. He wanted to go into the seminary, but his family decided otherwise and sent him off to military school. He graduated from West Point twenty-five years ago. After four years in the army he left and returned to his hometown of Albany where he trained to be a preacher. He's been leading a congregation ever since. His older brother died after a long fever, and Peter took over the family fortune. When the war broke out, he was one of the first in his town to call for volunteers. He raised the 27th himself and paid for the recruiting bonuses to the men. With his experience and name, he was promoted as a full colonel."

"A rich old bastard, eh? What about that reedy nephew of his?" Jack flipped the eggs over and began cooking the other side. Even in the morning, it was hot in the kitchen with the stove going.

"Riley is son of his youngest sister."

"I see. Tell me, Major, where did you get all of this from?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Where did you get all these interesting tidbits from? Surely all of this information wasn't stuffed away in a file at the War Department."

Smiling, Hall said, "You got me there, Mister Blackwood. Ever since there has been trouble with this division, I was asked to start an investigation. I have reports on all of the men there – mostly gossip."

"Anything else interesting?" Ezra interjected as he filled up the major's coffee cup again.

"No, nothing worth mentioning. A few of the men have seen the inside of a prison, but just for drunkenness or fighting."

Jack said, "Well, Major, it was worth asking. Would you care to join us for a bite to eat? We have to eat quickly and then leave for the camp. We've decided it's best if we get an inside view, so we asked the colonel if we could join this division on a temporary basis."

"I already know."

"I thought you would," the detective replied with a laugh.

After a quick breakfast, they parted with Hall and rode their horses to the camp. The morning sun had ridden high enough to make their shadows into long forms on the dusty ground. A slight breeze wafted past from time to time, but it was not enough to cool the sweat on their brows.

It felt a little strange to leave their apartment like this. Jack and Ezra were used to being ready for a trip in a moment's notice, but this time it was a little different, since they were joining an Army division. Slung over their horses were rifles, bedrolls, some food, and a number of personal items that would not be supplied by the army.

They rode up to the camp. Some soldiers were standing by the entrance, looking over Ezra with some distaste. A guard other than Ferran stood sternly at his post, and he eyed them suspiciously. Before Jack could state his business to the sentry, Ferran ran up.

He said, "I was hoping to catch you two before you went into the camp," he panted.

"Why is that?" Jack asked. He felt tired this morning and had little patience for any drama this early in the day. He was still thinking of Anna's actions yesterday and didn't know what to make of it.

Ferran looked sideways, snatching a glance at the loosely assembled men to see who else was listening. "Well, I did as you said and bought a few bottles for the boys and me. We had a few drinks and all got to talking. I told them that you and Ezra here were coming along with us for a while. After I told them you were in the cavalry they were happy to hear that you were joining us, but they weren't so sure about a black man."

Feeling his anger begin to boil, Jack said, "Is that why they are waiting for us over there? They wanted to take a good look at him before they let him into camp?" Jack got of his horse and then strode over to the group of men. There were eight of them looking at him with scowls on their faces. His face flushed with anger, Jack swung his arm back and pointed at his partner. "That man here could outride and outshoot the whole lot of you. He faced down and killed more men then all of you put together!"

"I don't care mister, I ain't riding with no black man," a voice from the back of the crowd shouted out. The rest of the men nodded and glanced back at their friend. The man who spoke strode forward, staring at Jack. He was a thick man with the look of a farmer with strong hands and a dull, sullen look in his eyes. "And you aren't man enough to make me."

Jack saw Ezra slide his hand to the Colt pistol butt riding against his hip.

"Now hold on there, Private Wright," Ferran said. "There's no reason to get angry with Mister Blackwood here. He and Mister Miller are good men. I already told you that."

Wright made a fist and pounded it against his open hand. "We're not letting him ride with us."

"Mister Miller will be riding with me," Jack said as he tensed his hands into fists and made ready to take on the whole lot of them. He stopped himself and took a step back to bark out a laugh. "Look, I know you boys are spoiling for a fight here. But how about we make a deal?"

"Like what?" Wright grunted.

"I'll prove to you that Ezra is better horseman than anyone here. He'll race against your best rider, and if he wins, then we can stay. If not, then we'll both go without any further trouble."

Ezra merely looked hard at Wright but continued to say nothing. His teeth were clenched together and his palm was still resting on his gun.

Wright nodded and said, "If the rest of them agree, I'll ride against this boy and show him a thing or two on how to handle a horse." There was a quick nod of agreement among the rest of the men.

Ferran said, "It's settled then. I suggest we go on down to the training grounds over there and start this here race."

"Fine," Ezra said, "show us the way, Corporal."

They left their belongings with the guard, and Jack pulled himself back up on his horse. He rode beside Ezra as the group made its way to a large, open field next to the camp. The ground was uneven and broken up from the groups of horses that had ridden over the field as the division practiced their cavalry tactics.

Looking over the ground, Jack said to his partner, "Be careful riding in this mess." He kept his voice low so he would not be overheard. "It would be easy to be thrown from your horse and break your neck."

Ezra snapped, "And it's my neck you are risking. I don't know why I agreed to this foolhardy exhibition of yours. We would have been better off going to see the colonel and get him to let us in. He readily agreed to have us here and could command his men to accept us in the meanwhile."

"They would accept us – yes – but not give us any information. That's why we are here – to show them that we can ride and fight better than any of them. We need to win their respect. I know you can do it."

"If you say so," Ezra said without enthusiasm. "But I think you owe me one after this."

By now a large crowd of soldiers was too gathered around to watch. Word had gotten around the camp of the impending race. Bets were being laid, and faces shone with excitement as they waited for the action to begin.

Ferran came up and patted the side of Ezra's horse. "I'm sorry about Private Wright. I never heard him speak that way before."

"What kind of rider is he?" Ezra asked as he looked carefully over the field.

"I'm afraid to tell you that Wright is no city boy. He's been around horses all his life at his father's farm. He's probably the best rider we have."

Jack said, "Don't worry, he won't be riding any thoroughbred, just an old army nag."

The black man grunted angrily and rode ahead to where Wright was pulling himself up on his horse. It was a fine brown-and-white mare that looked healthy and strong. Ezra turned momentarily to the detective to give him a dirty look.

The field was some hundred yards long, and the crowd of men had lined on the sides up to make a rough path for the racers to follow. Some of the men suddenly parted as Ellsworth strode through them, towards the waiting horses. "Just what are you doing here?" he roughly asked the detectives.

"Well, it's fairly simple," Jack replied. "Ezra here is going to show your boys how to handle a horse. I thought a demonstration would help them understand the finer points of horsemanship. This man here agreed to help out."

"Is this true, Private Wright?" the captain asked acidly.

Wright's jaw dropped open and he gulped nervously before slowly nodding. "Yes, sir."

Jack could see that he feared the captain.

"Mister Blackwood, in future I would appreciate it if you would ask for my permission before doing any special training exercises. These men have their own duties to carry out that can't be interrupted by your every whim." His voice was stiff with official tones.

"Don't worry, this will only take a minute of their time."

"I hope so," Ellsworth replied and then strode away without looking back.

Jack turned and walked in between his partner and Private Wright. "Now I want you two to listen to me for a moment. This is just a simple race down the field and back. Ride down towards that big oak over there at the end of the field. Touch the tree with your hand and return as fast as you can. First horse to get past me wins the race. Understand?"

Wright gave a curt nod while Ezra did nothing. Then the both of them lined up and faced their mounts towards the oak at the end of the field. By now the entire division had turned out to see them, including the colonel and Riley who were watching from the entrance of the camp. The men began to shout and laugh with expectation as Jack moved to the front of the horses.

A shout went up. "C'mon, Wright, win one for the division!"

"Give 'em hell!" another man yelled.

Jack nodded with encouragement at his friend and took a step back. He held his hands up high in the air for just a moment and then quickly dropped them.

Both of the horses reared high up for a moment and bolted forward. Ezra's mount had a slight lead, but Wright kept close behind. Wright whooped loudly and lashed his bridle back and forth trying to gain as much speed as possible. The black man leaned low and goaded his horse onwards with his knees. This was his horse, and it knew its master well.

Within moments they reached the oak tree, nearly at the same time. With his long reach, Wright was able to touch the tree first, but Ezra wasn't far behind. The crowd went wild as they both wheeled to make the race back towards the detective. They rode knee to knee, close enough to touch. Both were leaning forward, their teeth gritted as they tried to wring out every last ounce of speed from their mounts.

Suddenly, Wright's horse stumbled on the rough ground and plunged forward. The private slipped off his saddle. A hush of astonishment went over the crowd as Ezra quickly reached over, grabbed Wright by the collar and held on. The falling horse tumbled over and collapsed in a cloud of dust. Taken away by the momentum of the black man's horse, Wright held on to the mane for dear life. They both passed Jack, and the crowd of men cheered even louder than before. Not having the strength to hold the private anymore, Ezra slowed and let the man drop to the ground.

Wright stood and immediately ran back to check that his mount was unhurt. He touched his mare's legs lightly but expertly, and up along its neck and withers. The private then brushed his pants and sleeves, his face red with embarrassment. Returning back to Ezra with his eyes held to the ground, he extended his hand up to shake.

He said, "I'm sorry about what I said. You saved me from getting hurt there, and I would be proud to ride with you anywhere."

Ezra shook his hand back. He said curtly, "You're a fine horseman. I won't let what you said bother me. In this world, I'm used to having to prove myself."

Jack slapped Wright's back and said, "Now that is all settled, let's go and see if we can stir up a drink around here." This was the best possible outcome for the race – Wright did not lose any respect, but Ezra had gained more than expected.

The entire division broke their lines and began laughing and talking as they returned to camp. After dropping off their gear inside an empty tent, Ezra and Jack met up with Ferran. They sat inside his tent with the canvas flaps open, letting in the weak breeze. Wright was also there and sat slightly apart from the rest. He was enjoying the bottle of whiskey that Jack was passing around, but appeared to be too embarrassed to join in the conversation.

Jack finally said to him, "Damn, it's hot. Pass me that bottle, Wright."

With a nod, he popped the cork back on and threw it to the detective.

Jack caught it and then took a pull from the bottle. "Now before we do anymore drinking, there is something I want to know."

"What is it?" the private asked uneasily.

"Ferran here told me that you normally are a good person to know. Who put you up to trying to get Ezra and me out of this camp?"

With a start, he replied, "I don't know what you mean." His face was flushed with embarrassment and he tensed his large hands nervously.

"Someone inside this camp didn't want us here, even though we are looking for the murderer of Private Quinn and Lieutenant Folks."

"Quinn was a friend of mine," the private said quietly.

"Well then, surely you would like to help us in this matter. We think it was someone inside the camp. Maybe he would be unhappy to see us question the men here. Did someone threaten you?"

"Now who could do that to Wright here?" Ferran asked. "Just look at the man – he can lick anyone in camp."

"That's why I'm asking him," Jack replied.

Wright said, "You have to promise me that you won't let him know that I told you. He would have my hide if he learned I said anything."

"Go ahead, any words you say will stay a secret," Jack said.

Glancing at Ezra, Wright gave in and finally spoke. "It was the captain."

"Captain Ellsworth?" Ferran asked. "Why in the world would he do that?"

"It's obvious to me," Ezra replied. "He wants us to stop investigating these murders. He knows that Jack and I are on to him."

"You're saying that the captain did it?" the private asked. His eyes were wide in wonderment. "Not that I would be all that surprised, the way he treats us."

"What exactly did Ellsworth say to you?" Jack asked. He passed the bottle over to Wright.

With a shake of his head, the man studied the whiskey before putting it down on the packed ground. "It's too hot to drink this stuff."

"Go on," Ferran said impatiently.

"Last night, before Lights Out, Captain Ellsworth came to my tent and asked to speak with me. We went for a walk outside the camp gate. He told me that a pair of troublemakers was trying to get into the camp, and it was in my best interest to put a stop to them. After I got back, I talked to a few of my friends, and none of them were too anxious to have a black man ride with us. So we decided to tell Ferran here that we would have nothing to do with you two and demand that you leave."

"What did Ellsworth threaten you with?" Jack asked.

Wright blushed and replied, "Once when I was in town the captain saw me walking with another woman. He knows very well that I'm a married man. He threatened to write my wife if I didn't do as he asked. I'm still afraid he will. I have a pass for tonight. I've got to go see this girl. I'm going to tell her it's all over now. I never told her that I was married, so she'll be bound to get awful mad at me."

"I'll go have a talk with your captain," Jack said. "I'll tell him to leave you alone or else he will have to deal with me."

The private grinned and said, "That would put my mind at ease, but then he will know what I told you."

"Don't worry, I can be very persuasive."
Chapter 12

Walking through camp, Jack found Ellsworth busy ordering some soldiers to move a pile of casks onto a wagon. He called out, "Captain, I need to have a word with you."

The captain turned to face the detective, his face impassive. "What do you want now?"

"I know you don't want us here, but you must understand we have the colonel's permission. If you have any problems with our conduct, I would prefer you speak to me directly instead of using any underhanded tactics."

Ellsworth raised an eyebrow and replied coldly, "By my word, I don't know what nonsense you are spouting."

Jack snapped, "Let me tell you then. When we arrived this morning there was a group of men waiting outside the gate. I think they were put there by you. You don't want us here to discover the murderer of Folks. I'm not sure why you are attempting to stop us from investigating since it is certainly in the division's best interest."

"Of course it is in the best interest of the men, but perhaps not right now." Without a further word, he turned and began to walk away.

Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him around. "What can you mean by that?"

"Don't touch me."

Dropping his hands, Jack said, "Tell me."

"Since we are leaving tomorrow, I don't want the men bothered with your questions when they have more pressing concerns on their minds. It's as simple as that. Now leave me be."

Jack retorted, "If you hadn't blocked our investigation from the start, perhaps we could have gotten further and discovered the killer before you left Washington."

"Perhaps," Ellsworth drawled. "But maybe not. My duty as an officer is to ensure that my men can fight when called upon. Anything else is of little importance."

Jack could feel his anger rise upwards, into his throat. His face turned red as he took a sharp breath and said, "What's important to me is to find this killer. I will continue to do what I see necessary to find the man who killed Lieutenant Folks and Private Quinn. Just don't get in my way, and don't stir up any more trouble." With those words, he spun around and stalked away.

Later in the afternoon, the two detectives met inside their tent to discuss where they stood so far. Ezra had gone out that day to talk to the various cooks, mule handlers, and workmen who kept the camp in order. Jack had talked further with Wright and a few other men who had worked with Lieutenant Folks.

After telling Ezra of his conversation with Ellsworth, Jack said, "I hope you had better luck than I did. Did you learn anything of interest?"

Ezra shook his head looking frustrated. "I went around and asked everyone I could find. The men here are scared alright, but no one had any definite suspicions of who it could be. Most of them think it's some rebel spy trying to scare the division from fighting down South."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm hearing too. But that doesn't make any sense. Why just this cavalry division and no other? Any rebel spy tactics would be a little more far reaching than that, I would imagine." Jack paused, deep in thought. "Did anyone speak well of Ellsworth?"

"As you would have guessed, he's not a popular man."

"That's not surprising. None of the soldiers I talked to hand a kind word for him either. He is a hard taskmaster who drives the men relentlessly. He has made no friends here and many of the men would like to blame him for these murders."

"He may not be well-loved, but does that really make him the killer?"

Jack lit a cigarette and sat down on the thin army bedding. "I'm beginning to have my doubts, but what do you think of the facts against him?"

"He's the best lead we have so far. At every turn he has tried to block us from looking into the matter. He was supposed to be investigating the murder of Quinn, but nothing seems to have come of it. It is Ellsworth that stonewalls us at every turn and has even tried to stop us from ever getting into the camp. What other motive would he have other than protecting himself from being discovered?"

"At the face of it, you appear to be right. But if he is trying to deflect attention from himself, it is a rather foolish approach. If anything, the captain has only strengthened our suspicions of him."

"Do you have another smoke?"

"You bet - I rolled a few up while I was waiting for you to return." Jack handed a cigarette and the matches over to his partner.

Ezra lit his cigarette and waved the smoke away in the thick air. It was humid out, and the hot sun was baking the camp grounds ferociously. The line of supply wagons visiting the camp left deep ruts behind them, and had turned up the dirt to bake in the sun. It was a smell that Jack enjoyed come springtime in the anticipation of warmer weather, but now it was just another smell, mixing with the camp cooking, the tobacco he was smoking, and the sweaty clothes on his back.

Ezra finally said, "Ellsworth has got to be our man unless I see some new evidence to tell me otherwise."

Jack considered his partner's words and knew his friend made sense. He stubbed his cigarette out in the hard ground and threw the butt out of the tent. It was time to tell him one of his pet theories. "I've given this some thought, and I do have someone else in mind. The timing or the motive doesn't make any sense right now, but I hope to have some answers soon enough."

"Go on and tell me."

Jack smiled and wiped the line of sweat off his brow. "When I went on the little picnic with Miss Keller, I eventually got her to do some talking. She told me some things that confirmed some suspicions I had."

"What suspicions?" Ezra asked impatiently. He flicked the ashes from his cigarette in an annoyed manner.

"Charles Folks."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. Why would he go and kill his own son?"

"It's been known to happen. And all along I thought you were the ladies' man. It's fairly obvious to me that he is in love with Anna. I'm sure you noticed the way he treats her."

"Any honorable man would do the same. He is trying to protect her from getting hurt."

"Just hear me out first."

Ezra stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. "I think you're the one in love with her, but go ahead and tell me your ideas." His expression hid a faint smile.

After a nasty look to his friend, Jack started, "I gathered that Charles is unhappily married. Imagine a lonely man who has a son who is about to marry a young beautiful girl."

"Is she beautiful?" Ezra asked dryly.

Ignoring Ezra, the detective pressed on. "This war comes, his son signs up and joins the cavalry. James is then posted to Washington, which is good for Charles since he often comes here on business. He gets a chance to come here for a visit, using it as an excuse to be alone with Anna. He knows that his wife is not about to go with them. The night they arrive here, Charles slips out and follows his son to Miss Clayton's home. He ends up killing the both of them."

"But why kill the prostitute?"

"She was killed so Charles could keep his identity hidden," Jack replied smugly.

Ezra slowly nodded and asked, "How do you explain the death of Quinn? Are you saying Charles Folks came here on a previous occasion just to murder another man? To cover up the future murder of his own son? He would have to be crazy to think of such a plan."

"Ah, that's a valid point. I know that Charles visited Washington on a business trip during the same time of the death of Quinn. Or perhaps James wrote to his father and told him about the murder of Private Quinn. Surely that would have been a subject of much conversation around here. Once Charles Folks learned of this, he realized that this was a golden opportunity to lay blame elsewhere."

"So there is no connection between the two deaths?" his partner asked skeptically.

"Charles Folks would want people to think that there was a connection. He then hired us to make a connection. After all, who would suspect him of killing his son if he started the wolves on the hunt?"

"I don't know. There are too many loose threads, and the timing itself throws doubt on your theory."

"Like what?" Jack asked even though he knew there were too many gaps in his theory. But he knew with a little legwork he could pull the strands together.

Ezra answered, "Charles would have to arrive at Washington, get away from Anna and then leave to find his son. He would have to follow his own son without being recognized in a town crowded with soldiers. Right to where the prostitute lived. After killing the both of them, he would have been splattered all over with blood. Unless he planned well in advance and brought a change of clothing, how could he escape detection when he returned to the hotel? A man covered head to foot in blood would draw much comment, even in this town."

Jack's face fell in disappointment. "Well as I said, it's just a theory. As you said he could have brought a change of clothes with him or taken care of it another way. There are plenty of holes in my theory right now, but I think once we have more evidence I will be vindicated. As soon as we return from our journey, I'll go over and start asking Mister Folks some questions."

Ezra smiled indulgently and said, "I think you're on the wrong track with Folks. You have a personal interest in finding him guilty."

"I don't know how you can say that," Jack protested.

"Well it's simple enough, my friend; you've also fallen in love with Miss Keller."

"You're a fool," the detective said hotly.

"I'm not sure who is a fool here." Ezra's tone was still light. "I'm just calling it as I see it. You're still heartbroken over that last girl, the heartless Miss Hanson. Here comes a new pretty thing, and you're practically jumping at the chance."

Before Jack could respond, they heard footsteps running towards their tent. Ferran threw the flap open and entered, his face flushed from running in the heat. "I came to tell you that Ellsworth just left the camp," he panted.

"So?" Ezra asked. "With his rank he can probably leave whenever he desires."

"It's not that," Ferran gasped. "He left right after Private Wright did. I'm there guarding the gate and saw him leave. We talked for a moment and he told me that he was leaving to see that town girl of his. Not more than two minutes after that, Ellsworth left the camp in a hurry. I think he went after Wright."

"Did the captain say anything to you?" Jack asked. His mind was buzzing with thought. Perhaps Ezra was right about Ellsworth. They had better go and catch up to him before he could do any harm to Wright.

Ferran said, "When I asked him, he told me that the colonel is gone to one of those meetings at the War Department. He used the missing papers excuse again. He didn't seem particularly pleased with me asking him those questions, but he didn't take the time to tell me that – he just left in a hurry."

"Do you know where this woman of Wright's lives?" Jack asked quickly as he buckled his gun belt on.

"I sure do. I've stopped over there with him when he dropped off some living money to her. What do you reckon to do?"

"Stop a murder," Ezra replied.
Chapter 13

The streets of the city were crowded with soldiers taking their last night of liberty before leaving to go off to war. Tension was high in the city as some men prayed in church while others calmed their nerves using less spiritual methods. Jack and Ezra threaded their way through this mass of soldiers. The prostitutes were leaning against the walls, busily plying their ancient trade. Even the uglier ones were finding plenty of takers. Most of the soldiers were either drunk or flushed with excitement of their upcoming march to Manassas. Jack remembered his first actions as a soldier and the initial excitement. He knew if this war dragged on, the patriotic fervor would die once the bloodshed started.

As they neared the street where Wright's woman lived, the number of people out began to thin. It was a poorer neighborhood used by the laborers of the city. Jack saw two soldiers ahead, talking in earnest. When he recognized the back of Ellsworth's head, he stopped and pulled Ezra back.

The detective said, "Hold up for a moment, I think that's Ellsworth up there, talking to Wright. Let's go cross the street and see."

His partner followed Jack over to the corner building on the other side of the street. It was a closed textile store with the lights off. Attempting to conceal himself, the detective leaned up against the wall and Ezra stood in front of him with his back to the two conversing soldiers. Shielding Jack from being recognized, he pretended to be holding a conversation.

"Did they see us?" Ezra asked as his friend watched.

"I don't think so, but I can't make out much from here," Jack replied. The sounds of the passersby were too loud and he could only hear scraps of their conversation. But it was obvious that Wright and Ellsworth were arguing since their voices were raised in anger. "Let's try to move a little closer," Jack suggested.

Ezra nodded. They then walked through the intersection, making sure to stay square with Ellsworth's back. Wright did not appear to notice them among the other men on the street. However his face was red with anger, and he was looking down at the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the captain.

Once he was closer, Jack leaned down to pretend to tie his boot. He heard Ellsworth say, "You made a fool of me for the last time, private." If Wright replied, it was in a voice too low to be heard. The captain continued, "I want that Blackwood fellow and that damned Negro gone from our camp. They're causing me too much trouble."

Wright's response was clear and loud as he managed to finally meet Ellsworth's gaze. "That's not my call to make, sir. You'd be better off telling the colonel if you want them to leave so badly. He's the only one who could order them out of the camp."

"You fool; don't you think I've already tried that? The colonel wants to get to the bottom of our little mystery and prefers them to stay."

"Both of them are good men. I can't help you, sir." With those words, Wright spun around and marched away from the captain.

"Damn you, Wright!" Ellsworth shouted at his back. "Damn you to hell. I'll see that you pay for this!" He then strode away angrily, shoving his way through a throng of drunken soldiers. The soldiers started to shout at him until they saw the braid on his shoulders. He gave them a nasty stare and then disappeared around a corner.

"Quick, Ezra, we know where Wright is going. We had better follow Ellsworth instead and see where he is heading."

"Wherever it is, it doesn't appear to be back to camp," his partner said.

That was true enough since Ellsworth was heading deeper into the city. They trailed cautiously behind. From all appearances, the captain appeared to be walking aimlessly. His pace would quicken and slow without any apparent reason. Luckily the number of pedestrians in this part of the city removed any concern that Jack had of being discovered.

After a half hour of being trailed, Ellsworth suddenly halted in front of a hat store and began to study the wares inside the windows.

Jack stopped and motioned to Ezra to do the same. "What is he doing?"

"I don't know," the black man replied. "Perhaps he has something on his mind."

Jack studied Ellsworth for a moment before replying, "He knows that we're here and is deciding what to do."

"He's never even given us a single look."

The detective replied quickly, "Ellsworth is a crafty bastard. It's the glass in the store fronts – he's using the reflection to check if anyone is following him."

And with those words, the captain suddenly started running as quickly as possible down the street. He pushed his way past a soldier who sprawled to the ground in a stream of curses.

"Ezra, he's seen us!"

They took off in a run. Jack jumped over the fallen soldier and started to chase Ellsworth down the street. The captain's running ability belied his seedy appearance, and he managed to keep his lead over the two of them. In a few moments he rounded a corner. They just saw him duck into a dark alleyway.

With the both of them gasping for air, Jack and Ezra stopped in front of the entrance to the alley. A few passersby watched them quizzically, muttered, and went on their way. The alley was like a dark tunnel; no light could be seen on the other end.

Jack leaned up against the brick wall of the building to catch his breath. "I think our friend has gotten himself into a dead end," he gasped. "Give me a moment to compose myself, and we'll go in and find him. I would like to have a few private words with this captain." He grinned to himself and cracked his knuckles, wanting to explain a few things to Ellsworth using his fists.

Ezra nodded, and then they began to slowly explore the alleyway. The smell of urine and trash hung heavily in the dense summer air. The black man reached into his pocket, pulled a match out and struck it against the brick walls. The sudden brief flare showed a dead end of brick ahead and a number of rough wooden doors leading to the back of the buildings that surrounded them. There was no sign of Ellsworth. The match went out, plunging the alley back into darkness.

"Where did that bastard go?" Jack asked. He kicked at a pile of trash, lit his own match and looked over the ground of the alley.

"He had to go through one of those doors," Ezra replied. Lighting a series of matches, he began trying each door handle in turn. They were locked. Wandering on a bit, he stopped at the last door and motioned his friend over. "If you look at the step here, there is a fresh dirt track made by someone wearing cavalry boots. I imagine he went through here."

"I hope you're right." Jack said and he took a step back and began violently kicking at the door by the handle.

In a few moments, the door cracked loudly and hung loosely on the hinges. He pushed it aside and entered. Hearing a minute metallic click, Jack suddenly flung himself backwards and pushed his friend out of the doorway. A bright flame erupted from the darkness and the unmistakable crack of a pistol echoed loudly in the alley walls. The bullet ricocheted and whined off the alley walls.

"Damn it, he's trying to kill us!" Ezra exclaimed as he sprawled on the ground.

They both heard footsteps running deeper into the building. Jack pulled his Starr revolver out from his pocket. He painfully rolled on his side, stood with the gun at the ready, stepped in, and was answered only by silence.

Ezra entered more cautiously, his Navy Colt held low and ready. "Is he still in there?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Light a match and throw it down the hall."

"Why don't you light the match? I'm not looking to be shot."

"Be quiet," Jack snapped back. He fumbled with his pockets, pulled out a match and lit it against the rough floor. It flared briefly. He threw it quickly down the hallway. It shone feebly, and Jack could see in the faint light a dingy hallway leading to a small room. The match then flickered out. "Come on, let's go." He cautiously entered the room where the faint sounds from the street outside could be heard.

The room was small. Narrow, heavily curtained windows only allowed a sliver of moonlight to enter. The door that led to the front of the building was ajar. Jack opened the door and poked his head out. A number of soldiers and other men were walking in the street and did not appear to be alarmed in any way by the sound of the shot in the alleyway.

"It appears that bastard of a captain gave us the slip," Jack said vehemently.

Ezra found a nearby oil lamp and lit it. The dull light illuminated the rough room. It was a poor, simple apartment that appeared to have little use of late. A thick layer of dust covered everything and a number of fresh boot prints could be seen on the dirty floor. There was little furniture except for a broken-down sofa and bookcase that had a number of items on the shelves.

Ezra began to examine the bookcase while Jack continued looking out onto the street. His partner's breath went out in surprise. He stammered, "J-J-Jack, come here and take a look at this."

Coming over to view the bookcase, the detective saw had several items on it – a cavalry sword was on top, while the lower shelves held several books, a fragment of rope, and an open bible with several lines underlined with red ink. In the dim light of the oil lamp, Ezra began reading through the bible while Jack examined the sword and rope.

He held the sword closely to the light and said, "This looks like dried blood and this bit of rope also has some type of stain on it."

Ezra put the bible down and said, "This is the Book of Revelations, Jack. It's clear to me that Ellsworth is a religious maniac, and this, combined with the sword, is proof enough of that. We have to stop him before he kills again."

"I agree with you, Ezra. Enough is enough." He paused for a moment, remembering the captain's recent threats. He quickly said to his partner, "Wright. We have to go get Wright before it is too late." He ran out of the apartment with the door left open, his partner following behind. Flagging down a taxi, they urged the driver to take them as quickly as possible to the address given to them by Ferran.

The apartment was in a building which was a clapboard affair. The roof of the building sagged from rot, while the front door was open to allow whatever faint wind came by. Several residents stood on the front porch, drinking and talking.

Ignoring them, Jack ran by with Ezra following close behind. They entered the hallway.

The detective said, "Ferran said that she lived in room number six."

Ezra nodded and said, "Here it is."

Knocking loudly on the door, he shouted, "Wright, it's me, Jack Blackwood. Are you in there?"

They both waited in silence and did not hear any response or sound of any kind from behind the door. Jack felt that he was too late but still hoped for an answer within.

"Maybe they left," Ezra offered.

"Or perhaps not," Jack said as he turned the knob. The door opened easily enough and he slid his head into the narrow opening. His eyes were met with a room lit with a low, fluttering oil lamp resting on a side table. It was a simple room - a pile of clothes, a washbasin, and two bodies lying haphazardly on the bed. One was a man laying facedown while the other was a woman looking blankly at the ceiling.

Entering the room, Jack said to Ezra, "I'm afraid we were too late. Close the door behind you and lock it." He then turned up the oil lamp as high as it could go.

After he locked the door, Ezra leaned against it and looked at the scene before him with obvious distaste. "Are they dead?" he asked slowly even as his own eyes could see the blood dripping slowly on the floor.

"I'm afraid so," Jack replied with distaste.

He turned over the body of the man and saw that it was indeed Wright. His throat had been cut with a single ragged slash. The blood had pumped out onto the bed, staining it deeply with red blood. The detective then felt the arms and found that the body was still warm - Wright had been killed fairly recently. Jack then turned his attention to the blood-spattered woman. A gag was tied tightly around her mouth and her hands tied to the bedposts. Jack pulled back the sheet and saw that she was nude, and her ankles had also been tied. She may have been pretty before, with freckled skin and deep red hair – but now she was a horror to behold. The torso was torn with deep long gashes, with her insides hanging loosely out of the skin. He touched her forehead and found it to be the almost the same temperature as the room.

Seeing the revealed carnage, Ezra began to retch. He averted his eyes from the bodies. "The bastard... the bastard..." he murmured.

"I'll stay here, Ezra," Jack said without emotion. "Go get Garrett and come back as soon as you can."

His partner nodded anxiously and quickly slipped away.

Hearing his partner's footsteps fade down the hall, Jack locked the door again and began to search through the room.
Chapter 14

Garrett stood over the bed and looked down at the two corpses. He moved slowly to the side and yawned. His tired eyes took in the horrible scene. He then lit a cigarette and shook his head. Blowing out the smoke, he spoke to Jack, "In all my life, I don't recall ever seeing anything so bad. Even during our days in the army, the settlers weren't butchered quite like this."

Jack stood and merely nodded, remembering too many gory scenes in his own past. He had seen worse, but made no mention of those terrible moments. This was not a good time to make comparisons, he thought.

"Ezra didn't give me much to go on. How did you know to come here and find this mess?"

"I didn't exactly expect this to happen - it was just a hunch of mine."

"It would help me if you tell me from the beginning what happened."

Jack went on and explained this suspicion of Ellsworth and how they tried to follow him. He did not, however, mention the items found in the apartment that the captain led them to. "And after we lost him, we rushed over here to make sure Wright was unharmed."

"I see," Garrett said blandly. "So you came in here and found the both of them dead?"

"Yes. And the door was left unlocked."

"My men are questioning the other tenants to see if anyone saw this Ellsworth come in here."

"Look, Henry," Jack said impatiently, "I know it has to be Ellsworth. Why waste your time questioning these people when we can ride over and question him directly?"

"I admit the actions of this captain are highly suspicious, but he could hardly be your murderer. According to your story it was only a few minutes after he escaped when you got here. In that span of time he was supposed to have walked in here without being noticed, killed this girl here and Wright, and then escape unseen?"

Jack looked over the bodies for a moment before replying, "Whoever did this took their time before they killed her. After she died, the killer waited for Wright to show up and then killed him. Her death was slow and painful – it could have been done hours ago."

Garrett reached over and gently rested his palm against the girl's cheek. "She's not quite cold yet."

"It's much too hot in here for her to ever get really cold," Jack said shrewdly. "She was killed beforehand, and the murderer waited for Private Wright to come in."

"Or else the murderer was surprised when Wright opened the door."

"It doesn't appear that way to me. If you look at Wright's throat, there is only the one wound. Imagine the killer standing behind the door. Wright rushes in after seeing the dead girl and the murderer attacks him from behind. He pulls the private's head back with a tug on his hair and slashes the throat with one cut. Wright is shoved forward and dies face down on the bed. Our killer then leaves using the backdoor to the alley."

"I suppose it could happen that way," Garrett agreed weakly. "But you still haven't answered my question about Ellsworth. How could have he gotten over here in time to do this? There is no way he could have beaten Wright to this house, especially if he was busy leading you on a wild goose chase."

"I don't know how, but he did it." Jack then smirked and said, "But there's more evidence to be considered. I haven't told you about what we found in that apartment we tracked Ellsworth to."

Garrett waved his hand in the air lazily, as if to already dismiss this new development. "Go on, tell me. I know I'm not going to like it."

"After we busted that door down and got shot at by him, we did a quick search of the apartment. There wasn't much there but there was a bookcase that had a cavalry sword with bloodstains and a bit of bloodied rope on display. They looked like trophies. There was also a bible with heavily lined passages from Revelations. I'm sure you find this all quite interesting."

The Captain of the Watch nodded and with one more glance at the bodies, he motioned for Jack to follow him out of the door. "Let's go look at these trophies of yours."

Ezra was waiting quietly outside, his expression still numb with horror.

Jack patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't even think about it."

"What else can I do?" his partner asked weakly.

"Just don't. Garrett and I are going back to collect what we found at that apartment. I suggest you come and ride with us – the fresh air will do you some good."

Ezra followed them out.

Garrett's men were left in charge of the building until his return. Jack and Ezra borrowed some horses from them, and then the little group made their way back to the apartment. It was getting late. By now the number of soldiers prowling the street was beginning to diminish; the few men left staggered drunkenly down the sidewalks

"I remember when Washington was a quiet town," Garrett said to no one in particular. "It wasn't always filled with prostitutes, drunks and gamblers. If I had a few more men then I could really clean up this place."

Jack didn't say anything in reply. He had no faith in his friend's puritanical instincts.

The small apartment stood quiet on the dark street. The light of the still lit oil lamp could be dimly seen through the tattered curtains. They entered through the unlocked front door. Jack led Garrett over to the bookcase. But it was empty.

"I don't understand," the detective said helplessly. "Someone came here and cleaned the place out."

"Did you leave this place unlocked?" Garrett asked.

"We didn't exactly have a key, and the back door to the alley is busted wide open."

Garrett examined the bookcase closely and exclaimed, "Hold that oil lamp here. I want to take a closer look." Ezra held it up high as Garrett continued to run his hands across the wood. "This looks like dried blood alright. You were right, something was here. I suggest we go see this Captain Ellsworth and have a few words with him."

"It's about time," Jack said as they went back outside to the waiting horses.

*

The camp gate was still open, and a ragged line of drunken stragglers were making their way back to their respective tents. To Jack, the white linen tents brought to mind an orderly line of shadowy graves. Tonight, the soldiers would find sleep while Wright had already found eternal rest.

Ferran was waiting at his post at the gate. He looked over Jack's returning party, his eyes widened with suspicion. He asked fervently, "What happened to Private Wright?"

"I would like you to keep this to yourself right now," Jack replied quietly. "Wright was murdered by the same man who killed Lieutenant Folks. You have the right to know since you were his friend, but don't tell anyone else yet."

Ferran looked sick to his stomach. He said, "I reckon I can do that. But who did it? Was it that bastard Ellsworth?"

"That's what we're going to find out. This here is Henry Garrett of the City Watch."

Garrett cleared his throat and spoke with a voice that was used to command. "I will need to speak to Colonel Franklin regarding Captain Ellsworth."

"So it was the captain then?"

"Never you mind," Jack snapped. "We'll go in and talk to the colonel now."

"Mister Blackwood, you are in luck - he rode in just about an hour ago. He seemed awfully tired, but told me he still had some paperwork to do. He should still be up."

"Good," the detective replied with his voice tinged with exhaustion. He felt incredibly tired and prepared himself mentally to continue on. "What about the Captain? Is he back in the camp?"

"Yes, he rode in with the colonel," Ferran replied.

"What? Are you sure?" Jack asked. He glanced at Ezra who looked as confused as he felt. Jack expected Ellsworth to be slinking in here, not riding in with Franklin. "How did he look?"

Ferran said sourly, "Captain Ellsworth always looks distressed, so I wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

They left their horses at the gate and walked grimly to the colonel's command tent. They passed a number of tired soldiers who seemed surprised to see three civilians walking through the camp at this time of the night. Jack and Ezra drew little comment as they were already known, but the stern stare of Garrett could make even honest men feel guilty.

At the command tent, an oil lamp was lit on the wooden table. Franklin was examining a number of papers. Looking up, he saw them approach.

He said, "Gentlemen, I see you brought a guest. This must be important if you are visiting me at this time of night."

Jack pointed to Henry and said, "I think you know Mister Garrett of the City Watch."

"We've met."

"He's here to talk to you about Captain Ellsworth."

"Ellsworth? If we are to discuss him, why not invite him into our meeting?" he asked cordially.

With those words, the flap of the tent opened, and Ellsworth stepped out with a sheaf of papers in his hands. He looked at the assembled group suspiciously. He was wary of their presence, and went over to stand next to Franklin. The captain said nothing but fixed Jack with a hostile stare.

Garrett looked Ellsworth over carefully before speaking to Franklin. "There's been another one of your soldiers found dead tonight."

Franklin's expression remained unchanged as he said, "That is most grievous news. How did it happen?"

"Your Private Wright was found dead in the room of a known prostitute. He and the lady were both brutally murdered in the same fashion as the others. The woman was butchered beyond belief."

The colonel nodded his head slowly and muttered, "Another prostitute, eh?"

Ellsworth did not react to the news of Wright's death. He instead concentrated on the multitude of papers at the table before him. His eyes looked slowly back and forth over the words as if he was busy reading.

Garrett continued on and said, "The evidence is slight, but Mister Blackwood here thinks that your captain here may be involved somehow."

Those words caused Ellsworth to jerk his head up in attention.

"The captain?" Franklin asked. "Surely you can't be serious."

"He was seen arguing with Wright and ran away once he saw that Jack and Ezra here following him. When they went after the captain, he hid away in an empty apartment and even took a shot at them. After he got away, they rushed over to where Wright had gone to meet this woman, and they found the both of them dead."

Ellsworth said calmly, "I admit I had a few strong words with Private Wright, but I have nothing to do with his murder."

Franklin's face was stern and said, "It might help if you explain yourself further, Captain."

"I left the camp tonight," he sighed resignedly, as he explained. "I also admit I had Wright try to stop Mister Blackwood here from meddling with the division's affairs. The private and I had a disagreement over it, and we ended up arguing over the matter. We parted and went our separate ways. However, I still had nothing to do with his murder. How could I? I don't even know where he was going at that time of night. As for me shooting at Mister Blackwood here, I really don't know what they are talking about. It must be a case of mistaken identity."

Jack looked at Ellsworth with amazement, not believing that he would attempt such a bold-faced lie. "How could you say that?" he snapped. "I would recognize you anywhere. We followed you around for quite a while before you noticed us and ran for it."

Franklin interrupted and said, "I'm afraid Ellsworth must be right. He came over to the War Department and was there by nine o'clock. That leaves little time for murder. Since he had to make it clear across town to meet me there, how could he be your man?"

Ellsworth shot his commanding officer a quick look of gratitude.

Garrett prepared to leave. "Well, that is that. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Colonel. Jack here is usually a reliable witness, and I had to follow through on his suspicions." His tone had become polite and official.

"I understand," Franklin soothingly answered. "Mister Blackwood must be feeling pressured by Mister Folks to find the real killer."

"There is no pressure," Jack said in his defense. He eyed Ellsworth coldly.

"Men make mistakes," the colonel replied kindly. "We are due to leave here soon, Mister Garrett. If you have any fresh information on the murder of Private Wright, please stop by beforehand and let me know."

"I will at that," Garrett said. He left without a further word, but merely gave Jack a questioning stare as he passed by.

"Ellsworth, I will tell the men about Wright in the morning. As for you, Mister Blackwood, I still want you to investigate these killings but don't leap to any conclusions until you have all the facts on hand."

Jack merely nodded and turned away before they could see the anger in his eyes.

Miss Keller's diary, resumed

July 16 – early morning

I just can't stop thinking about the way James was found. I know I should let it pass and move on with life. I wasn't there when it happened, but in my mind I keep imagining what he was saying or doing with that woman when they were killed. My sleep has been so interrupted lately that it makes it hard for me to think rationally about things, and I am distracted all the time. I'm so nervous that I jump in my skin when my name is called or from a loud noise. Of course the lack of sleep makes it harder for me to think on anything for any length of time. I try to write my sister or my mother, and find myself staring off into space, and I have not been writing for the last several moments, but I cannot tell what I have been thinking of, and I cannot guess what I should write about next.

During the day, things go a little more smoothly than at night, and I have some reading I am doing in the room, and the newspapers keep me busy. Then what I am reading will make me think to myself "I should talk to James about that." And I will wonder what he would say to it. Then half a moment goes by, and I realize I can't talk to him about it or anything ever again, and I get very angry toward whoever did this. Because I know what a gentle soul James was, and how he never deserved to die like this.

I have been able to leave the hotel a few times, not including the trip I took with Mister Blackwood. I went on a walk the other day with Mister Folks, and once just by myself, though I didn't know where I was going, I just went in a big circle around the hotel block, and the block next to it. I wouldn't want to get lost, even though I would eventually find my way back, it would be so inconvenient to everyone if I went missing, and caused a big stir for them to find me again. And what if I got murdered too? I know that is not very likely, but if it happened to James, why not me too? During the walk Mister Folks took me on, he seemed to get fonder of me the longer the walk went on, and started to hold my hand in his arm, and lean a little closer to me than would be necessary. But I suppose he needs to be close to someone in this difficult time, and I am the closest there is. Or maybe he wants to protect me, in the way that he couldn't protect his son. James was a good man, but not as confident as his father, and I could imagine feeling pretty protected by him.

Mister Folks, who I know means well, keeps asking if there is anything I want to talk about, as if I could tell him anything that he would want to hear. I have said all the things to him one is supposed to say in a situation like this. How much James will be missed, and what a good life he lived, that sort of thing. I know James and Mister Folks may have had some secrets from each other, and maybe Mister Folks is just angry with himself that he didn't visit him sooner, and see him one more time. He should stop feeling so guilty, it is not as if he could have known that his son would be murdered.

I wonder how the families at home are handling this news. I wrote, and of course Mister Folks wrote, once we knew what had happened. I am surprised that Missus Folks is not coming to ride with us in the train with the body. I'd imagine that she has other details to take care of, but if it were me I'd want to be here. I wish she were here, and some of my uneasiness might go away. The decision of their family is to take his body home, and it will be laid in the family plot near the church. I look forward to the funeral as the way of ending all of these sad feelings, or at least the beginning of them ending. I know the funeral will make me sad too, and it will be final that James is gone then.

I know I am sometimes distracted just by grief, and the way my life has changed since James was murdered. But I should stop thinking things about Mister Folks, and what would have made him want to have his son gone. He is not a man who would do anything like that. And I should stop thinking about how great my opportunities are now that James is gone as well. I feel guilty for thinking about the fact that I am free from my obligation to marry, so now I can live the way I like. I should not let Mister Blackwood think that I am loose woman, but I might be able to share something with him before I have to take my leave of him. I should work harder to preserve my virtue, but part of me can't wait to have it gone, so I don't have to worry about it anymore. And I am not sure what having my virtue intact has done for me anyway. If I had given it to James, as I had thought I would, I'd still regret something about our engagement, and not just giving that to him. The world seems to make no sense to me, with Mister Folks acting so strangely, and my future so confused when I had it planned out so well before, even with the faults I thought would be there, and James's somehow lacking something. Now I tend to think I will never marry, never find someone else to make me happy, and that I may as well accept that I will be alone. My sisters will marry, and then I can attach myself to their families and become a beloved aunt instead of a mother and wife. That would suit me fine as second best to marrying.
Chapter 15

Waking up, Jack looked blurrily about. It was still early in the morning and Ezra was sleeping peacefully in the bunk on the other side of the tent. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, wishing for a strong cup of coffee. He had slept poorly, his head wracked with worry in an attempt to sort out last night's events. Reveille played in the distance, and the camp began to stir to life. His partner rolled over and pulled the covers over his head.

Jack said, "Come on, Ezra. It's time to wake up and get a move on. We will have plenty of work to do today if the colonel makes good on his promise to finally leave Washington."

The black man yawned, rolled out of his cot and put his feet on the floor. He mumbled, "This is too early in the morning for any sane man."

Jack and Ezra dressed, wearing old clothes that had already seen hard wear from riding.

From outside Ferran shouted out a greeting and ducked into the tent carrying two cups of coffee. "I thought you would be wanting something to drink this morning."

"Thank you," Jack said with appreciation. He took the hot mug and gulped the bitter coffee down. He made a face and said, "I see the coffee in the army still tastes like shit dipped in water."

The corporal laughed. "You get used to the flavor. I see you two already have everything packed and ready to go. I was told this morning that we are going to be moving out by noon. Not sure where we are going yet, but it has to be better than staying here and waiting to get butchered."

The detective agreed with a nod. "Are you sure the boys here are up to it? I haven't seen much discipline as of yet."

"I know they're a little green, but they will do alright. The other side can't be any better."

"True enough," Ezra said with a yawn as they left the tent.

Standing outside was Lieutenant Riley, holding his army cap in his right hand. He gave a start when he saw them leave the tent and suddenly turned to leave.

"Hold up, lieutenant," Jack called, letting the corporal and his friend pass on by.

"Yes, sir," Riley replied nervously.

"I've wanted to talk to you for quite some time."

"W-W-What about?" he stammered.

"Were you waiting to see me?"

"Well, I was hoping I could see you for a moment," Riley admitted. "It's about this Lieutenant Folks affair. I wanted to know where you stood on the matter."

"I don't understand."

Jack could see that the young man was looking guilty about something. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and he looked decidedly pale.

Riley asked, "Have your inquiries taken you anywhere? I need to know."

"Look, boy, you had better come clean with me."

After a moment of indecision, the young lieutenant finally spoke. He said, "Very well, but you must promise that my uncle doesn't hear a word of this conversation."

"You have my word," Jack promised.

Waiting for some soldiers to pass by so they weren't overheard, Riley clenched his teeth before saying, "My uncle is a stern man. If he learned what I'm about to tell you, then my family would be cast from his house."

Jack nodded impatiently and said, "Go on."

"Truth be told, I was a good friend with James Folks. He and I spent plenty of time together working for the colonel. One night, at his suggestion, we went on leave together. I had my first drink that night, and we ended up at a house of ill repute! I didn't know what I was doing – honest – and I'm afraid to say that I had my way with a woman. I've never done anything like that before or since. What would my mother say?"

So that was Riley's secret. Resisting the urge to laugh, Jack clamped his arm around the young man's shoulder. "Why are you telling me this, son?"

"I was afraid you would be asking questions and somehow find this out. Then my uncle would know, and I would get into trouble."

"Don't worry about your old uncle. He won't hear a thing from me. But a few words of advice – don't go and tell him out of a sense of guilt. You made a mistake and learned your lesson. I would suggest you keep this secret to yourself."

"Very well, sir."

"And there is no reason to call me sir," Jack said in a friendly voice. "But I do have one question for you. Did you see Captain Ellsworth with the colonel last night?"

"I didn't go to the meeting with the colonel. He told me to turn in early so I would be ready to ride out today."

"Well, you had better get back to work."

With a grin, the young man walked away with a lighter step.

Jack hurried on to catch up with his partner and grab some food.

*

After breakfast, the men went to work. The camp was broken down. The feed for the horses was stowed away, and the ammunition and foodstuff was ready for transport. Several sergeants began walking through the camp and bawling at the men to take down the tents and begin to pack them up for storage. They would be left behind for now since the cavalry was expected to travel lightly and use speed to their advantage.

Jack moved their gear out and had Ezra help him to remove the canvas and poles of the tent. After that was completed, they stood toward the back of the throngs of men gathering around the colonel's tent to hear the orders.

Franklin came and stood up on the table that was normally used for maps and other papers. Upon seeing their commanding officer, the men began to cheer and clap.

He motioned them to be quiet. "Before I tell you what our objective is to be, I'm afraid I must tell you some bad news. Private Michael Wright, originally from Binghamton, was found dead last night."

There was a dull roar as men begin to speak disconcertedly to the others around them.

The colonel had to motion for them to be quiet again. "I know he was a popular man, but we still don't know who did this terrible deed. There is currently an investigation going on and once we know anything concrete then you shall be told. If any man has any information, please come speak to Captain Ellsworth. But for now, let's keep Wright in our prayers and concentrate on the work that has been given to us. What lies before us is a momentous task. We have been given the job of scouting ahead for the Army of the Potomac. We shall be the first to ride down to Centerville and pave the way for the rest to follow." He then began to shout loudly. "On to Richmond! On to Richmond!"

The men forgot their worries about Wright and began to cheer wildly at the thought of finally being able to fight. Several jumped up in the excitement and clapped their hands. Jack gave Ezra a sour look and shook his head in wonder at the folly of it all. Once a man saw battle, he had no more heart for it. It became a grim task to be done – not a moment of glory. In the excitement, no one but his partner seemed to notice his misgivings.

Franklin once again raised his hands to quiet the men. His voice was smooth and reassuring. "It will be a dangerous undertaking, so I want every man to listen to their superior officer. If we come under fire, be sure to follow your orders and you will return safely. Now I want everyone to finish their breakfast and then return to complete our packing. Remember to take good care of your horses and give them plenty of water and feed. We will be leaving at noon. I expect every man to be there and ready."

There was one more ragged cheer as the men began to break away and return to their tasks.

"What is it?" Ezra asked as he noticed his friend's expression..

"Ah, nothing – it's just these damn young fools. They will be the death of us."

Before Ezra could reply, Ellsworth came up to them. He looked at the both of them without emotion and said, "The colonel would like to have a few words with you two." He strode away without waiting to hear their response.

"We'll be there in a few minutes," Jack shouted at the retreating back.

"I guess someone is still feeling a little upset about last night," Ezra said.

"I don't blame him. And I still don't think he is innocent. I'm not sure how he did those killings yet, but we're going to find out somehow."

Do you still suspect Charles Folks at all? After last night, you surely can't believe there is a connection between him and his son's murder."

"I want to ask him a few questions to rest a few small, nagging worries I still have." He stopped to light a cigarette. "For now we had better see what the colonel wants from us."

The two officers were both poring over the maps in front of them and did not notice their arrival. The colonel pointed to a point on the map and said to his captain, "That's the best route for you to get to Centerville."

"And the best route is going to be the one most heavily watched," Jack interrupted, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

Franklin blinked at the detective and frowned. "Mister Blackwood, I have a special mission for Captain Ellsworth and his men. General McDowell is suspicious that Johnston may try to reinforce Beauregard at the town Manassas. Needless to say our information is rather sketchy, and I want the captain here to scout the rail lines and roads between the two. I don't expect you to go with him, but I would like your opinion on the best method to achieve the goal I was given by the general. After all, you have more experience in these matters."

Jack said, "Moving a whole column of cavalry into enemy territory won't be easy. The Secesh pickets will see you soon enough and report your every movement. With a whole group of green soldiers, you will be an easy target for every sniper or bushwhacker around."

Ellsworth boasted, "Don't worry, Mister Blackwood, we will have enough men to fight off any attacker. And if we run into a stronger force, we can easily ride away."

"That's not the type of open country fighting I'm talking about. You will be riding through woods that are ripe for ambushing. It's obvious to me that this move to Manassas by McDowell is well known by now. The tongues have been wagging in this town, and the news is bound to have been received by the rebels."

The captain said hotly to Franklin, "Why are you even listening to Mister Blackwood? After last night how can we trust his judgment?"

"Quiet, Ellsworth, he has experience in these matters." He then said to the detective, "What would you have me do?"

"McDowell will lead his main force to Centreville with your main force spearheading the way. That will take him some time." Jack traced his finger along the map. "In the meanwhile, Captain Ellsworth can cut to the west and cross the Potomac here at Conrad's Ferry." The ferry was located northwest of Washington and crossed the Potomac into Virginia. "We can then ride through the woods to the south until we reach the Manassas Gap. From there we can see any troop movement and then return to Centreville heading east along the railroad line."

Franklin studied the map while the rest of them looked on. He followed the road to Centreville and then traced the route that the detective suggested. "How long do you think it would take the captain to get there if we took your route?"

Jack imagined the route they would take and the number of men and horses moving along the trails. "Provided we weren't unduly cautious, it would be just more than a total day of traveling. We will run into some trouble along the way since some of these places are bound to be guarded."

"Then you will have to deal with that problem by using force."

"I'm sure the boys here are up for a fight. How long does General McDowell expect it to take to move down to Centreville with his army?" Jack asked.

Franklin looked embarrassed and paused before answering, "The general wasn't too clear on that point. He has a large army to march down there – each loaded with a few days of food. He expects at most two days."

"Two days? It would only take a few hours to get there by horse. Any surprise he has will be lost."

"That is true, but what choice does he have? Such a large amount of infantry will be bunched up on the road, but people are clamoring for action and he means to give it to them."

Jack shook his head and looked at Ezra with a wry smile. It was a foolish plan but the colonel was right – the newspapers were filled with editorials demanding a decisive battle. "Now I remember why I left the army. McDowell has given your captain a difficult task, Colonel, and I pray I can help you in any way you see fit."

"So you will be coming with us?" Ellsworth sneered. "I would think you would have preferred to stay in safety here in Washington to continue your so-called investigation."

Before Jack could answer back, Franklin intervened. "Now, Captain, for once I've had enough of your comments towards Mister Blackwood and Mister Miller here. Let's concentrate on the task on hand. They made a mistake once, but for the duration of this operation, I expect you to be civil towards them. Do you agree?"

Ellsworth scowled and shot his arm out to Jack to shake. The detective shook the hand with some misgiving, as did Ezra when he was made the same offer.

The colonel nodded in approval and said, "Very well then, at my command you will follow Mister Blackwood's advice. Consider his experience and listen to his words carefully. I would prefer that you remain alive rather than take any foolish chances."

Ellsworth said stiffly, "Yes, sir. We will be riding out just after lunch, Mister Blackwood. I hope you have taken care of any personal business before we leave."

"I have just one small matter to attend to. Ezra and I will be there on time," Jack replied graciously.

Jack saluted Franklin. He left with Ezra walking along. By now most of the men were readying their horses and making adjustments to their saddles and harnesses. They looked nervous and made half-hearted jokes about the upcoming ride.

"I can't believe we are going on this fool expedition," Ezra mumbled to himself, but the words were still loud enough for Jack to hear.

"Don't worry, I'll be there to protect you," the detective laughed and slapped his partner on the back.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ezra said softly.

"I'll be back soon enough. I want to have a few words with Mister Folks before we leave. Do you think you could get our mounts ready and make sure they have plenty of water? It's going to be a hot day. I'll get a ride over to the hotel, so you can have the horses."

"Why question Folks now?"

"It might be the last chance I get."
Chapter 16

Jack found Charles Folks at his hotel room. The business man was dressed and apparently getting ready to leave; he had his jacket on and was carrying his cane. A veiled amount of sunshine came in through the half-closed curtains of the room, and reflected on the gleaming wood floor.

Folks said, "Ah, Mister Blackwood, you are lucky to have caught me. I was preparing to go visit the branch this morning. We haven't left Washington yet because I'm afraid my son is still being worked on by the undertakers. Due to the wounds he received, it will take some time to make his body suitable for presentation to his mother." Folks sat down and motioned to the chair across from him and said, "Why don't you have a seat?"

The detective sat down and noticed that the man's features were tight with worry. The large face was red, his eyes were ringed, and he had a twitch on one cheek. "Well, I am glad to have caught you, sir. I thought I would stop by and tell you that there was another murder last night."

"Another murder?" Folks said with astonishment. "Who was it this time?"

"Nobody you know – a private in the 27th division. I found Wright dead. He was also killed while in the company of a woman."

"I am saddened to hear the news, but it only proves that you are on the right track."

"I would have preferred it if Private Wright was still alive, but yes, we are getting closer to the murderer."

"So you have been able to determine who is doing these despicable acts?"

"I have a few theories," Jack said as he studied the man's face. He was looking for guilt, but only saw anger.

"Well, I'm not interested in theories right now," Folks snapped. "I want you to get the man who is responsible for my son's death."

"Don't worry," Jack said to placate him. "It's possible that I will have this all wrapped up very soon. I've been asked to accompany a column of cavalry from the 27th into enemy held territory. This will be a good opportunity to find out what I need to know."

"I'm not sure if I follow you. Would you care to elaborate on what you plan to learn on such an expedition?"

"Well, I only have two suspects left, and this trip will give me a chance to confirm my own theories about the matter."

Folks' eyes widened and he said, "Just two suspects? Can you name them to me?"

"I would rather not," Jack replied.

"Come on, I must know some details before you leave on this mission of yours. What would I do if something happened to you? Remember it was my son that was killed by one of these men."

"I'm not the sort that can be killed easily." Changing the subject, Jack said with a grimace, "I do have a question about your son's death that I need answered. You told me that you arrived here the same evening he was killed, but I also learned that you may have been here in town the night that Private Quinn was murdered. In my line of work that's too much of a coincidence."

"Who told you that?" Folks replied as his face grew red with anger. He suddenly stood up as if to strike the detective.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Never mind where I get my information from, Mister Folks – I mustn't give away all of my secrets. But you still haven't answered my original question. Were you here in Washington or not last week Friday?" Jack asked. He waited impatiently for the other man's reaction.

Folks sat back down and composed himself. After a few quick breaths, he calmly said, "I must admit I was, Mister Blackwood, but I assure you I didn't go off and kill some unknown soldier. I just came here that night on a short business trip. I was planning to stay longer, but I received an urgent telegram from New York and had to take the train back the very next morning."

"On the face of it, I have a hard time believing your story. It sounds too good to be true."

"If you don't believe me, then you can contact my office, and they can give you the details. My private secretary in New York will surely remember sending the telegram to me that Friday night."

"Tell me, did you get to see your son that night?"

Folks sighed and said, "I already told you that this was our first trip to see him. Truth be told I was planning to see him that time, but I'm afraid I didn't even get a chance to try because of the problems with the accounts. I had to wrap up what business I could before I left early the next morning. I was at the local branch well past midnight before I could get back to pack for my morning train." He stopped and looked out the windows for a moment. When he started speaking again, his tone was softer. "I should have just ignored the telegram, and seen my son anyway. It would have been my last chance."

"Is there anyone who can vouch for your alibi?"

"The two other clerks will bear me out."

"That is good to know, sir. Did you by chance hear anything about the murder of Private Quinn?"

"Not until I received a letter from James. He told me that some private was killed but didn't offer many details. I assumed it was the result of some drunken brawl – you know the kind of trouble these types of men get into."

Jack merely shrugged his shoulder and said scathingly, "That man was murdered in just the same fashion as your son. I don't think his social class had anything to do with it."

His face blanched and Folks quickly stood up. "You are an insufferable fool. If you are done talking to me this way then I must go." He strode over and opened the door.

"I am done for now, Mister Folks. When I get back, I'll tell you who murdered your son. For now you will have to just trust me."

"I have trusted you so far though perhaps it isn't in my best interest."

"Really?" Jack asked. He was surprised by that response.

"I am speaking of Miss Keller. The other night I caught her trying to secretly return to her room. After some questioning she admitted that she was in your company. She said that nothing improper came between you two, and I am willing to forgive her if you can collaborate her story."

"You have my word, sir: it was purely business. I wanted to learn more about your son. It was a good opportunity to ask her some questions without you being there. Let's say that she could be more unrestrained without your presence."

"And what could she tell you about James that you didn't already know?"

"Apparently not much, but I had to ask anyway. I can tell you that she was brought home safely without a stain on her character."

"I will accept your account for now, but in future if you wish to question Anna, then I would expect you to ask for my permission first. She is a frail girl and needs what little protection I can give her."

"I'm sure she does." He answered sincerely, this time. Jack suspected Miss Keller to be made of tougher material than that, but he did not feel like crossing his client any further.

"Very well, Mister Blackwood. Now I suggest that you be on your way. I wish you luck on your endeavor, but I want you to come back to me as quickly as possible to inform me of your findings."

"I will at that," Jack said as he turned to leave. He went through the door, taking purposeful strides towards the stairway. He then darted into one of side hallways where he waited and listened. Eventually he heard the slam of a hotel door and heavy feet going down the stairs. He waited for a few more minutes longer, patiently smoking a cigarette before flicking the butt out of the window. His heart beat hard as he walked past Mister Folks's room and knocked on Anna's door. It was only a moment before she answered it.

Her face gleamed with a happy secret when she said, "Jack, I thought you left without saying goodbye to me. I know Mister Folks would be ever so mad with me, but I was listening at the door between our rooms and heard your entire conversation. "

"I thought you might have been," Jack said lamely, though he was surprised at her initiative. "I needed to say my farewells to you in case we should never meet again."

"Please come in and tell them to me in here. There is no reason for the rest of the hotel to hear us." She opened the door a bit further.

"I worry that Mister Folks might discover me here with you. I would prefer not to lose my client before the case is over."

"Don't you worry about him – he will gone for any number of hours before returning. He has been quite busy of late and wants to wrap up his business before returning to New York City. You would think that his son's death would have affected him more, but he really is a businessman first."

He walked into her room and looked at the large bed in the corner. The door shut softy behind him and he turned to face her.

She leaned her back against the closed door and said, "You know I was most shocked to hear you talk to him that way – he is so used to having everyone's respect."

"More like demanding people's respect. Men like him are full of bluster."

She took a step towards him and said, "Is it true that you are leaving with the cavalry? Won't it be dangerous to be that far into Virginia?"

"It will," he said simply. He couldn't help but notice the worry in her face.

"Jack, one thing I do regret so far in my life - I never gave James a proper goodbye." She blushed and dropped her eyes. "He left and I never gave him the one gift that any woman can give. And now it is too late." The atmosphere of the room had subtly changed. She brought her hands together, rubbing them nervously.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Jack lied. He knew very well what she was trying to say but did not know how to reply. She was such a young girl and even though she claimed that she did not fully love her fiancé, he knew that she probably did love the poor deceased man with all her heart. Women could easily deceive themselves, especially when they were so young, by thinking of a romantic ideal versus somewhat everyday reality.

He continued, "But you shouldn't think badly of yourself – I'm sure he thought of you every hour. The army is a tough place, and he would have clung to every scrap of his memory of you"

"Your words are too kind. Perhaps he would still be alive, if he had a reason to remember me. Perhaps if I gave him a good enough memory to hold on to – he would have never been with that girl." Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she turned away in embarrassment.

"Now missy, don't be thinking that way," he said

She came over and took both of his hands. "You see, I don't want to make the same mistake with you. I don't want you to go away and die. I don't want you to disappear like the rest of the men I have known."

"I won't die," he boasted. "Ezra tells me that I'm too mean to die."

"You're not mean at all," she whispered and leaned forward with her head tilted upwards. Her lips parted. Jack kissed her hard and found her returning it in earnest. She leaned heavily into him and began to gently pull him towards the bed.

"Now Missy, I don't want you to be making a big mistake here. I know you are upset. Are you sure you want me here?"

"This is my choice," she replied softly. "Now help me take off this dress. My hands are shaking so hard, I don't know I can undo the clasps."

Jack resigned himself to her wishes and began to undress her. She was more beautiful with every layer stripped off. Stopping when she was down to her camisole and pantalets, he looked her over in appreciation. She looked nervous but still had a defiant expression.

"I must say you are a very beautiful girl," he said in a low voice. "Now are you sure you wish me to continue?"

She nodded and slipped off her remaining undergarments without a further word. With a giggle she jumped onto the bed and then quickly slipped under the covers. "Now it's your turn," she said with a mischievous grin.

Pulling off his jacket, Jack quickly piled up his clothes and calmly went to draw the curtain closed. Feeling her eyes on his body, he turned down the one oil lamp in the room until only a low light flickered across the walls. Walking over to the bed, he pulled the covers off with a jerk, and she yelped with embarrassment. Looking over her body, he whistled in appreciation and then joined her on the bed.

Once he began to kiss her on the mouth, she pulled back. "Please, I've never done anything like this before."

"I know, my love. I know. But don't you worry; it only gets better the more you practice."

She smiled and began to return his kisses.
Chapter 17

The troop of cavalry soldiers waited inside the camp, their horses stamping restlessly as the men talked anxiously amongst themselves. They were finally going off to war. Even from a distance, Jack could hear the excited tone in their voices. Ezra was waiting at the front of the column with Ellsworth. They all watched impatiently as he ran up to clamber onto his saddle.

"We've been waiting for you," the captain grumbled.

"Then let's go," the detective replied brightly. Ezra had made Jack's mare ready with his favorite scoped Colt repeating rifle tucked inside a beat up rifle scabbard. His old cavalry sword hung loosely on the saddle pommel.

Ezra carried two Colt Navy pistols strapped to his waist. His own rifle was another Colt repeating rifle but did not have a telescopic sight mounted. Other than their weapons, they both were traveling light compared to the heavily burdened men in the column. Each soldier had a Sharp carbine, a Colt pistol, and a saber to weigh them down. A bedroll, a knapsack filled with food, and a canteen filled out the rest of the equipment.

As they began to ride out of the camp gate, Franklin was there sitting on top of a gray mare. Riley was at his side, holding the reins. The colonel saluted them smartly as the troops rode by. The lieutenant looked frightened but looked up long enough to give Jack a friendly wave.

Franklin called out, "Good luck, Captain Ellsworth. I'll meet you at Centreville."

"Very good, sir," Ellsworth snapped back, and then the column of men began to ride north through town. Jack and Ezra rode behind the captain who was accompanied by a lieutenant. They kept a steady pace and moved through the city with ease as the other traffic parted to let them pass. The dry dust of the roads was kicked high in the air. They soon were riding through the outskirts of Washington.

"Where were you?" Ezra asked when they finally got the chance to talk.

Jack's face crinkled into a grin since he was still happy remembering the long hour he had spent with Anna. He could tell that she initially had reservations about making love with him, but towards the end she seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed herself. Afterward, they had lain peacefully together until he had checked his watch. It was a quick scramble as he gathered his clothes and had to dash out with only a quick kiss. She had tears in her eyes when he last saw her.

The detective gave the faintest of smiles when he replied. He said, "My business took a little longer than expected."

"I'm sure it did," Ezra said sarcastically, but Jack did not take the bait.

They took the main road out of Washington and headed north towards Poolesville. By now the hot sun shone high and began to bake heavily on the soldier's dark wool uniforms. On the heavily rutted road, a number of loaded wagons rumbled by, heading south, part of the supply train for McDowell's army. The wagon guards hollered loudly as they saw column and shouted with laughter that they were heading the wrong way.

Jack adjusted his hat to block out the sunlight, wished for a little shade or some clouds, and took a drink from his canteen. He said to Ellsworth, "Make sure your men drink plenty of water. We have a long hot ride in front of us, and I don't want any of them falling off their horses in a faint. Conrad's Ferry is not too far off. We can get extra water there."

The captain simply nodded and gave the order to his lieutenant who went down line to spread the order to the two sergeants. As they rode, the column stretched loosely out some one hundred yards long. The road to Poolesville was dotted with small farms, the timber-framed houses built close to the road. The fields were thick with crops and a thin line of trees along the road helped to reduce the sun's glare. There was the silent hum of summer heat in the air and only the occasional farmer's wagon rolled past the column of soldiers. By now the residents here were used to seeing so many men on the move, and their presence only drew momentary looks or a friendly wave which was readily returned.

Within an hour they reached the outskirts of Poolesville. It was a small village that hardly deserved a place on the map. They rode past a few houses, some rough dirt side roads and a small brick city hall. A number of small camps had sprung up around the town - the army being interested in protecting the western approaches to the capitol. Some of the fords across the Potomac would be an easy approach to Washington for a small raiding party or as a vanguard to a larger rebel army.

A few Union soldiers, sitting in the shade, were stationed at the crossroads. They watched them approach with little interest on their faces. While the column stopped, Ellsworth rode up, and a short, florid-faced corporal stood up to salute.

"Everything quiet over here?" the captain asked.

"Yes, sir, we haven't seen any Secesh this away at all. Pardon me asking, but we heard rumor that McDowell is finally marching to meet the Rebs. Is that true enough, sir?"

"Yes, we're headed that way ourselves."

Jack cut him off and said, "McDowell is on the march alright, but we were ordered up here to scout around and make sure the flanks are safe." He could see that Ellsworth was annoyed by this interruption, but Jack thought it better not to announce their intentions to the whole world. During war, rumors had a way of traveling faster than a train at full steam.

"Ah, I see," the corporal said. He eyes lingered a little at Jack's gear, since he was wearing no uniform. He looked back up at the captain with a polite smile. "Well, right now there's nothing to do here but stay out of the sun."

"Very good," Ellsworth said. "We'll be moving along now." They continued on and the column followed the sign pointed towards Conrad's Ferry. There was a small post office on the side of Maryland, while the other side, which was Virginian soil, had a small warehouse. The ferry itself was a flat-bottomed boat that was drawn up on the their side. It crossed the Potomac using a rope strung across the river with the ferrymen pulling the boat by sheer muscle power. It was really more like a raft that could carry only ten horses at a time.

Two men were working near the craft, and they stopped as the column drew up. One of the men stopped and went up to speak to Ellsworth.

His hands were dirty, and he had a scraggly beard. He wiped his hands on his overall and spat out greedily, "That's a lot of horses there, mister. It'll cost you five cents a man and five cents a horse."

Ellsworth snorted and said, "I'm not going to pay you a cent – we are on official government business."

"No money, no ferry."

"See here, man, we must cross this river," the captain sputtered angrily.

Jack sighed and slipped a twenty dollar gold coin from his pocket. He flipped it at the ferryman and snapped, "This should more than cover your costs." He reminded himself to expense this payment to Folks.

The ferryman smiled and called out to his partner to prepare the ferry. It was soon pushed into the river and then the first group of soldiers and horses began to load up.

Jack and Ezra watched as the ferry began its first slow trip across the river. Ellsworth rode up next to them; his face was red with heat and anger. "Mister Blackwood, I want you to understand no matter what the colonel said, I'm in charge of this here scouting expedition. Keep that in mind."

The detective turned to face him. "I understand that, Captain, but I'm also interested in saving my own neck. There's no point in making the ferryman angry if we can keep him happy with a few dollars. You never know what kind of friends he may have over in Virginia. He could slip them a word, and then we would be harassed by rebels on the other side. The less they know about us, the further we can get before we are discovered."

Ellsworth gave this some thought before replying. His ugly features relaxed a little as did his tone. "Very well, Mister Blackwood, but stay out of my way once the shooting starts. This is a military expedition, not a pleasure trip for your convenience." He then kicked his horse into a trot and moved forward to get in line with the rest of the soldiers to be carried over on the next trip across the river.

Ezra watched the captain depart and said, "He's going to be even more trouble the further we go. How did I let you get me into this mess?"

Jack smiled and said, "Don't you worry. He's just a bit nervous having us along and thinking we are watching his every step. Once we get into some real trouble, he'll be wanting to hear our every word of advice." And he knew it was true, for he had seen green commanders before. The veterans, with and without officer ranking, did all the deciding while the other men learned.

"I'm glad you're feeling so confident," Ezra said sourly and flicked his reins to move his horse into the waiting line.

Jack thought of Anna some more as they he watched the boat come back and forth. Finally he was among the last to go. They rode their horses on the ferry with the final group of soldiers and dismounted to stand. By now the two ferrymen were tired from the multiple trips and were covered with sweat.

Jack pushed through the mass of soldiers to stand next to the lead ferryman. He watched as man pulled on the rope. The ferry slowly moved forward, jerking at times, across the river. It seemed smoother than Jack thought it would be.

"Do you get many Virginians crossing here anymore?" he asked.

"Maybe," the ferryman grunted.

"We're headed out west ourselves and want to make sure we don't run into any trouble. We're not here to start a fight with anyone."

"I can't imagine any of 'em bothering ya. But you can never tell what a man will do," he puffed as he pulled harder on the rope. He paused momentarily to wipe his brow with a dirty handkerchief that he had pulled from a pocket.

"We're just looking for some safe passage over to the Indian Territory," Jack lied. "Government is worried about them taking advantage of the situation during this little war of ours."

"I see," the ferryman puffed.

"I would really appreciate it if you could have a word your Virginian friends that we won't be any danger to them." Jack held another twenty dollar gold piece in his hand. There was no harm in trying to bribe the man.

The ferryman snatched it quickly, not even breaking the rhythm of his rope pulling. "I'll pass the word along, but I can't make any promises that they'll listen to me. I'm just a businessman."

"I appreciate it, my good man. Jack slapped the ferryman on the back. He then returned to his horse and watched as the boat neared the opposite bank.

Ezra shook his head and said, "You think throwing your money away like that will help at all?"

"It can't hurt. I would give away an entire stack of twenty dollar coins if it meant the difference between life and death."

The black man laughed. "I don't think you ever had a stack of pennies you could call your own."

On the other side, Captain Ellsworth and the rest of the troops were sorting out, forming back into a riding column.

As Jack disembarked, he stood high in his saddle and shouted at the captain, "Let's get going quick, there's not too much time left in the day."

Ellsworth only nodded and continued to give orders to his men. Within a short time they were moving out, heading west towards nearby Ball's Bluff. As he rode, Jack turned to and saw the ferryman watching them. Then the rope tightened and the ferry started to slowly move back towards the other side of the river.

The area surrounding the rocky Bluff was thick with dense forest and difficult to cross because of the rough terrain. The column was forced to take a small trail, stringing them out along a single file. At Jack's suggestion, Ezra waited as the column passed by and told every soldier to stay quiet as the march went on. They were nearing Leesburg and did not want to be detected by enemy scouts. Since the town was known to be unfriendly towards Union forces it was time for the utmost caution. Ezra joined the rear guard of the column. From the head, Jack led the troops onto a trail that crossed over a road leading into town. Dense trees covered their approach and not a soul was to be seen.

A sigh of relief escaped the detective's lips as it appeared that they had so far remained undetected. Soon enough they would reach the Blue Ridge Mountains and could start heading deeper south. The column of men remained quiet, the only noise being whispered talk and the sound of hooves striking dirt. Jack knew it was only a matter of time before they were seen, but hoped they could keep the enemy guessing their true intentions.

Some time passed before the trail started taking a southwest turn. Through a gap in the trees, Jack could see the mountains ahead. They first had to cross another road that ran west through Snicker's Gap towards Winchester. According to the information they had, it was there that Johnston should be found. Jack saw the road ahead and motioned for the column to stop. He coaxed his horse slowly ahead and paused to listen. He examined the rutted track. It looked as if some heavily loaded wagons had passed through here lately, disturbing the dry ground. Whether they came from a rebel army supply wagon or merely a local farmer's load, the detective could not tell.

Not seeing anyone coming either way, he motioned for the army to cross the road to the trail located on the other side. For what seemed like an eternity, he waited for the entire column to pass. Jack then saw his partner coming at the end, conversing quietly with some of the men in the back.

As the last of the men made it across, Ezra stopped to talk to his partner. He said, "It's been quiet back there so far, I haven't heard a thing."

"Good, keep your ears open and stop talking to those men."

Ezra looked at him seriously and said, "They just wanted to know more about you. I told some good lies, so now they're happy to have someone of your experience up there leading them. As you know, the captain isn't too popular."

Jack looked up and down the road again and said, "You had better get going and get to the front of the column. I'll ride in the rear for a while until we get to the road near Upperville and Ashby's Gap. There's bound to be more traffic over there, so be careful. Halt the column when we get there, and I'll catch up."

"Whatever you say – I don't like being here any longer than I have to."

"And keep that fool Ellsworth under control if we run into any hunters or farmers. I would prefer not to shoot anyone unless we have to."

Ezra nodded and spurred his horse onward.

With a final glance behind him, Jack rode into the trail and took up the position at the rear of the column. He didn't talk to the soldiers in front of him, but kept a few horse lengths behind them. As he rode, he listened carefully to the sounds of the forest for any unnatural disturbance. Every once in a while he would stop to turn and listen intently. Thinking he could hear the hooves of a horse behind him, the detective rode off the trail and waited behind a clump of pine trees.

Miss Keller's diary, resumed

July 17

Mister Blackwood has just left me. My feelings are in confusion: shame, amazement, and some pride are battling for control. Mostly though I am proud at what I have done. I am glad I have been able to show someone how much I could do for them. If only James and I had been able to share this, perhaps it would have made a difference in our lives. Perhaps he would still be alive. At least Jack won't die without knowing how I felt about him. Not that I am certain I ever loved James, or even that I love that strange detective.

I feel as though I have to tell someone what I have done. I suppose if I did, their opinion of me would change forever. I wonder how many other women hold this secret about the men they have known.

I have to admit it was fun to watch the expression on Jack's face one he realized what I was after. He was very good to me, and made sure that it was what I wanted. I knew that I wasn't going to change my mind once I got the feeling that Mr. Blackwood was interested in me in that way. I think that my small size makes people think that I am still a child and have to be protected. Well, I am tired of being protected; I can look after myself fairly well now. Being alone so much, as I have been on this trip, has shown me that.
Chapter 18

Jack waited while the column retreated further down the trail. Sitting very still, he let his breath out slowly and listened to the sounds of the forest. It was quiet except for the constant chirping of songbirds and the occasional squirrel running through the brown leaves of the forest floor. He kept his own mare quiet by rubbing the side of her neck. Within a minute, the detective's body stiffened as he heard an approaching horse coming up the trail. Pulling out his Starr pistol, his muscles tensed as he watched through the pine boughs.

Through the branches, he could see a raggedly dressed boy of some fifteen years riding a sad specimen of a horse. With that dirty black tousle of hair, Jack was reminded of his own younger days. At first he thought it was merely a farmer's son doing some hunting until he saw a brace of older Colt Walker pistols strapped at the hip.

The boy pulled hard on his reins and stopped. He looked warily around, seemingly sensing that something was wrong. A single pistol was then drawn as he held the bridle lightly before him. He gave his horse a gentle kick in the flanks and cautiously rode ahead, looking through the forest slowly from side to side. The dirty face was strained with fear, and the gun trembled nervously in the outstretched hand.

Jack held still with his pistol at the ready. Just as the boy was about to pass, he called out, "Drop that gun!"

Startled, the boy lost grip of the he pistol which clattered on the ground and mercifully did not discharge from the sudden impact. He looked at the detective, eyes wide in surprise, and slowly raised his hands in surrender. A fine line of sweat shone in his face.

Riding out of the pines, Jack kept the pistol carefully aimed in case the boy decided to flee. Looking the newcomer over, he asked brusquely, "What's your name?"

"S-S-Samuel," he stuttered.

"Samuel, I want you to slowly pull out that other pistol and take out the loads. My gun will be on you, so don't try anything fancy."

The boy complied, releasing the latch of the cylinder and letting the gunpowder and shot fall to the ground.

Knowing very well what the boy was doing, Jack asked "Why are you following these soldiers?"

Samuel seemed to have quickly gathered his wits. Looking defiant and proud, he answered, "My Pa told me to. He wanted to know what way you all were heading."

Jack lowered his gun and said, "So I see our ferryman has been talking too much. What did he tell you?"

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with a swipe of his forearm, the boy said, "Him? The old bastard never told us anything. We saw the soldiers from our house up on the hill. Not many northerners come this way unless they're on a raid. My pa said Yankees are nothing but trouble, so we have to keep an eye on 'em until General Beauregard kicks them clear out of the state."

"Tell me, Samuel, if it was so important to know where we are headed then why didn't your pa come himself?"

Looking uncomfortable, Samuel shifted nervously in his saddle and did not meet the detective's eyes. He eventually blurted, "My pa is real sick with the ague and can't travel no more."

With a laugh, Jack said "Or else he is busy riding to warn General Johnston of the direction we are heading." He could tell by the boy's expression that he had hit home with that remark.

"N-N-No, sir," Samuel stammered.

"And he sent you to watch where we are going. Now what I would like to know is where you plan to meet up with him to ambush us."

"That's not it at all. He just wanted to make sure you weren't riding where you shouldn't be going."

Holstering his gun, Jack sighed loudly and said, "I'm sure a local like you knows all the back trails around here and could get ahead of us if you wanted to. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with you." Jack furrowed his forehead in mock concentration. "Do you think you could be a good boy, turn around and go on back home to your momma?"

"What will I tell my pa?" the boy asked dejectedly.

"If your pa asks what happened to you, just tell him the truth, that you were caught and released."

"I reckon I could manage that," Samuel replied graciously with relief.

"And let me warn you, if I hear or see you following us again, I'll make sure you will regret it. Now go back to your home and don't you even think about this war anymore."

The boy nodded fearfully and as he wheeled his horse around, Jack slapped it hard on the flank. He watched as Samuel galloped clumsily away and waited listening for a few minutes more before catching up to the tail end of the column.

*

"You let him go?" Ellsworth asked incredulously, his eyes flaring with anger from under his dark brows. He held a neckerchief in his palm, and rapped his other hand against the pommel of his saddle. "He'll go and tell the rebels where we are headed, and then we'll be ambushed and killed. You're the one who told me that secrecy was paramount!"

Jack had ridden up to the front of the column and told them of his encounter. He was not surprised by the captain's reaction. "What would you have me do? Shoot the boy?"

"You could have taken him prisoner and forced him to ride with us until we are finished."

"We don't have the time to watch over a prisoner, no matter how young he is." Jack had no desire to hurt a child. It was better to live with the consequences than to harm an innocent.

"Very well," the captain grumbled, "but you'll be held responsible if this causes us any trouble in the future."

"Damn it, either way we're going to run into trouble. Half of this state, or more than half, is against us, and they are on the lookout for such an expedition."

Ellsworth just stared hard at Jack and then rode ahead without a further word.

Ezra looked at them and said, "I think I'll get to the back of the column again - anything to get away from you two."

"This time be a little more careful back there and don't get to talking as much. We will be stopping for the night in another hour and it would be better if we didn't have any stragglers following us."

"If you say so."

The evening was coming fast. They soon found a pine-dotted field in the woods to camp in. Fires were not allowed so men laid out their bedrolls to prepare to sleep while others began to paddock the horses. Sentry shifts were setup with the order to detain any trespassers. The night passed without incident and everyone woke up complaining of the lack of hot food and coffee. After a meal of cold hard tack, beef jerky and water, the camp broke and everyone mounted up to continue the trek. As he did yesterday, Ezra took the rear guard. He and Jack had little to say to each other. Jack knew his friend was even more annoyed for taking him on this adventure.

As the column wound its way through the path, the trees began to thin out. They had crossed the road heading towards Berryville without being sighted. A few soldiers had been selected to ride ahead and scout for the column's approach to Ashby's Gap, which was bound to be guarded. Jack had cautioned them to be quiet and to take no action against the enemy without his word. After crossing through the gap, the column was to approach Blue Ridge Mountains where they were to turn south to ride to the railway that was, from all reports, separating the rebel generals Johnston and Beauregard.

It was mid-morning when Ellsworth slowed down enough for the detective to catch up. He quietly said, "Look, Mister Blackwood, I'm sorry I had those angry words with you yesterday. You must understand that this is my first mission. I worry too much about my men."

Jack stared at the captain in surprise, not believing the words he had just heard. "Pardon me?"

"I know I'm not popular with them," the captain continued in an off-handed manner. "But I do look after their best interests even if they don't know it." He nodded towards the trail ahead and asked, "What do you think we are going to run into up ahead?"

Jack knew how hard it was for some men to admit a mistake, so he accepted Ellsworth's change of manner as graciously as he could. "If I read the map right, Captain, Ashby's Gap is ahead, and the scouts we sent will reach it soon. It's an obvious path for the rebels to take to get to the railroad. From there they can hurry along the rails and reinforce their army. I'm expecting the pass to be well-guarded with their scouting parties roaming through the area looking for trouble from the likes of us."

Ellsworth pushed a low-hanging branch out of the way. "What are we to do then?" His face was lined with worry, and Jack could hear a crack of panic underneath the captain's normally controlled voice.

"We do what every cavalry man does in a bad situation – ride like hell, and shoot your way through any trouble." There was a seriousness to his tone, but a half-smile on his lips. Even though the column numbered just over one hundred men, it could not handle a well-drilled infantry division. In that situation it would be better to run than to stand and fight.

Ellsworth nodded slowly and reflexively gripped the pistol butt on his belt. "If it comes to a fight then I will turn the command over to you and follow your directions."

Jack was stunned by those words. He had hardly expected to hear this man give up any of his authority. He scratched his head and said, "If you say so, Captain. But don't worry, I've been in some bad spots before and managed to get home in one piece. The Seceshs are just as green as these men are, so I don't think they'll be that much trouble for us to handle. But there's no point worrying about it until we get there."

"You may be right," Ellsworth said hopefully.

Jack tried to put some sympathy into his voice before he asked his next question. "If you know your men don't care for you, why do you treat them the way you do?" He smiled a little at the captain, hoping not to anger him with the impertinent question.

The captain just shrugged. "I think if they obey me, then I can help them stay alive longer, and maybe even make it home. Why does it matter whether they like me or not?" His tone became more serious, and he went on to say, "Mister Blackwood, I know we've had our disagreements in the past but for now let's put them on hold. I gave it some thought last night before I fell asleep, and I know right now that there are more pressing concerns than the murder of three soldiers. Once enough evidence has been provided, the truth will eventually come out."

The detective was again surprised by the seemingly honest words coming from Ellsworth. He looked at him suspiciously, and his stare was returned with an open, honest face. "We must talk further about this, Captain. What evidence do you speak of?"

Before Ellsworth could reply, a galloping horse could be heard riding towards them. It was one of the scouts they had sent ahead. The man's face was flushed with excitement as he gave his report. "Sir, we passed north of Upperville, took to the road and carefully approached Ashby's Gap as ordered. We held the horses back and hid in the bushes to watch. Before we knew it, we saw a number of rebel soldiers on horseback heading our way. We first thought that they were sent to find us, but they rode past, heading south right towards White Plains."

White Plains was a small village located on the railroad which led towards Manassas.

"How many of them were there?" Jack asked calmly enough, but the pulse of an approaching battle pounded the blood hard through his veins.

"A good twenty of them, all of them armed. Once I saw them, I galloped back as quickly as I could to tell you."

"It could be a scouting party or a guarded courier going to see Beauregard," Jack said. "Any papers they could be carrying would be invaluable to General McDowell. Captain, I suggest we cut those men off before they get away. We'll capture them. We'll then follow the railroad to Gainesville and take the road back to Centreville."

"But what about our scouting mission?" Ellsworth said, almost returning to his former taciturn manner. "We were sent to find out what the rebels are doing, not to get into a pitched battle with them."

"Sometimes the best way to get information is to stir the hornet's nest. Even if they aren't protecting a courier, we'll still be able to determine by questioning them if Johnston is moving his men to meet Beauregard at Manassas."

The captain nodded, his face decided, and said, "Very well. It's time that we all got our first taste of battle."

Jack said to the scout, "Go back and gather up the rest of the men there. We shall meet outside of White Plains. We'll be waiting there for you. If you do not meet us there, proceed along the railroad until you can take the road north to Centreville."

The scout saluted and rode off.

Jack said to Ellsworth, "Tell your men to follow you and only fire when they see me shooting. If our column gets split during the attack, remind them to not fire across into their friends. It's easy to get carried away once the guns start going off."

The captain barked a quick order to his lieutenants for the men to get ready for an attack. Men began to check their pistols and adjust their sword belts. A nervous murmur began to rise as they bravely joked with pale faces and the shaking of hands. The excitement rippled outward, showing on each nervous, smiling, and scared face.

Jack couldn't help but examine the loads in his pistol for one last time. He stood high in his saddle and turned to face the column. "Follow us and only fire if you have a good shot. Don't waste ammo, we'll need it plenty enough before this day is done."

The men who could hear him cheered wildly and the shouting began to spread down the column line. As they kicked their spurs and urged the horses on, the sound of galloping rippled through the trees. They first cut to the southeast, broke through a line of trees and crossed through the rolling green farm fields. The small village of Salem could be seen to the south. To the west, further down the tracks, a thin line of men of horsemen were going at an easy pace.

Jack looked behind him and saw that the column had disintegrated into a rough pack. He could barely make out Ezra's white shirt at the tail of the group. He couldn't help but shout as he raised his pistol into the air and fired a single shot into the hot summer air. The thundering mass of horses broke into a full-bore gallop as they closed the distance on their prey.
Chapter 19

When they saw the rushing mass of Union soldiers, the rebel cavalry froze, panic-stricken. Their inexperience and surprise gave away to fear as the first volley of pistol fire raked through their exposed flank. The mass of lead tore through them and several rebels slid wounded off their mounts. They landed hard on the ground while the horses screamed with their eyes rolling. The few remaining Confederates started to sporadically fire back, but the shots were chaotic and poorly aimed.

The Union charge collided heavily into remaining rebel cavalry, causing their gunfire to become scattered as any cohesion was lost. Man fought against man. Steel flashed in the sun and bullets thumped into flesh. One rebel shouted for his mother as he fell down to the ground and was trampled by the press of horses. It was crowded and hot with the smell of sweat as the hand of death dealt with the unlucky.

Feeling the hot streak of a lead ball striking his leg, Jack grimaced and tried to ignore the sudden rush of pain. He picked his targets carefully and fired at a rebel away from the pack who was crouched near his horse with a leveled rifle. The minie ball knocked the man over, causing the gun to discharge wildly into the air. Jack shoved his pistol into the holster and yanked out his old cavalry saber and rode wildly at a man who was reloading his pistol. His face white with fear, the rebel soldier tried to protect his face with his hands held in front. Feeling the blade strike bone, Jack wrenched the sword away and galloped on, striking at whatever enemy he could reach.

In a minute, though it seemed like forever, the action was over. The air was now thick with the smell of blood, sweat, and smoke from clouds of discharged black powder drifting in the summer heat. Through this humid mist, only three of the rebel cavalry were left on their mounts. Many of the remaining men lay on the ground, slowly moving in agony, while the others tried to control their gunfire panicked mounts. As they were fully engulfed by the charging Union horde, the living and wounded alike gave in and raised their hands in surrender. The northern troops cheered, hollered, and waved their swords high in the air.

Through the curtain of smoke, Jack saw a remaining rebel soldier trying to ride away. He had escaped the charge and was now bent forward on his mount in an attempt to muster as much speed as possible. Jack quickly slid off his mare and pulled his scoped rifle from the scabbard. He limped ahead from the rest of the troops to find a clear spot. He dropped roughly on his stomach and brought the rifle up to shoot at the fleeing horseman.

Looking through the long scope, Jack estimated the distance to be over one hundred yards. He aimed carefully and fired once. The minie ball struck the soldier in the arm. The rider rolled off his horse and started to run towards the line of trees to the north of the rails. Jack fired again, but did not adjust his aim quickly enough. The shot went wide. He watched with disappointment as the man ducked into the trees.

Rolling over, Jack sat up and suddenly felt the throbbing pain in his leg. Often, once the rush of the battle was over, men would only then realize that they had been wounded.

The Federal soldiers had rounded up the rebels who were still alive and were keeping them under guard. Ellsworth was giving orders and directing the men to search the prisoners and dead alike.

Ezra was still up on his horse, watching all of this with a sickened expression.

"Anything the matter?" Jack asked his friend.

"I've seen many things in my time, but I've never been party to a massacre."

"It's not fair, I know," the detective answered quietly.

Ellsworth ran over, his face flushed with excitement. He said, "That was some fine shooting by the boys, Mister Blackwood, too bad that one had to get away."

Wiping away the dust from his face, Jack said, "Well, it still isn't too late to remedy the situation. You had better send some men out and see if they can track him down. But we had better get moving quick before anyone from the town comes out to investigate."

Ellsworth agreed and gave the orders to send out some men on horseback.

"Let me look at that leg of yours," Ezra said with concern.

Looking at the circle of blood spreading along the rough cloth, Jack said, "Don't worry, it doesn't feel that bad." He poked his finger into his pant leg and felt around. The bullet had cut across the skin of the top of his left thigh, but had not pierced the leg. "It feels like burning lead, but I won't bleed to death on you."

The black man nodded as he watched his friend stuff a handkerchief into the hole in his pants leg. He said, "Once we have a chance to light a fire, I'll cauterize it for you."

With a nod, Jack pointed in the distance towards a nearby horse that was terribly wounded. "Do me the favor and put that beast out of its misery."

Ezra readily agreed and took a few strides over to the horse to finish it off. The single shot from his Colt pistol was startling to hear even after gun battle that had just raged. The rush of noise from the attack had made them all temporarily deaf. The silence afterward was now disorienting.

Ellsworth came up to Jack and was holding a leather bag. He gave a cursory glance at the detective's bloodied leg and said, "Will you able to ride the rest of the way with us?"

Jack began to reload his Colt rifle as he replied. "Don't worry about me, it's just a scratch. The bullet just passed through the skin. I'll be alright. Did we lose any of our own men?"

"Including you, just a few wounded. In this case, you were right and surprise really did pay off."

"It did out in the prairies, and it worked here too. Now just what do you have there in your hand?"

Holding up the bag, Ellsworth said, "You were right – this was a courier. These here are official papers from Johnston to Beauregard. Johnston plans to fool our scouts and send most of his men to reinforce Manassas. General McDowell will need to be told of this development."

"That he won't have enough men to take Manassas by force? I don't think it will stop the McDowell's plans – but we had better deliver these papers to him nonetheless. Washington demands action and the general will have to attack no matter what we tell him."

"That may be, but perhaps he can make changes to his plan accordingly."

"Okay," Jack said, and decided to change the subject. "Gather the men together and let's ride out of here."

"Where shall we go now?"

"We continue to ride east towards Manassas. The rail line is bound to be protected, so we will have to send our scouts ahead. If we can break through the pass ahead, we will head to Gainesville and then take a path north towards Centreville. By then we can only hope that McDowell has gotten there without incident."

Ellsworth pointed to the group of guarded rebel soldiers huddled together on the side of the railroad embankment. "What shall we do with that bunch? Most of them are too hurt to travel, and we have no doctor for them."

Jack winced as he got up and replied, "I would like to shoot the lot of them for giving me this wound, but for now we had better just let them go without their weapons. It's only a short walk back to town. They can take care of their own there."

"Good, I'll round the men up."

The soldiers who had been sent out to find the escaped rebel returned. There was no sign of the man who must have hidden himself well in the bushes. The scouts who were watching Ashby's Gap then rode in, disappointed that they did not have a chance to join in the action. The prisoners were then allowed to start walking towards the town of White Plains. Their faces showed disgust at having lost, but they seemed to be happy enough to be alive, unlike many of their comrades.

Having painfully pulled himself up on his horse, Jack watched the proceedings impatiently. It was time to start moving before a rebel patrol came upon them. Within a short time, the telegraph of White Plains would be busy with activity and everyone up and down the rails would know that Union troops were deep behind enemy lines. Sunset was only five hours away, but if they were found before darkness came then there would be problems.

"Captain," he snapped, "Let's get going."

Ellsworth nodded and gave a few more orders before pulling himself up his own horse. The column spread out and began to ride east along the railroad with two scouts ranging ahead. Now that the soldiers had seen the dangers of being ambushed, an air of caution came upon them. After a few hours of riding had passed, the sun began to dip low on the horizon and the shadows of the trees stretched darkly across their path.

"How's that leg?" Ezra asked with concern.

"I think it stopped bleeding," Jack replied. The furrow across his thigh ached terribly, but not as badly as it did earlier. He then said to Ellsworth, "I want to pull the scouts in. I want to ride ahead with my partner here and see if the way ahead is clear. I have a feeling that the Thoroughfare Gap will be heavily protected. I would hate to run into Beauregard's whole army with just this little force. In the meanwhile, I want you to keep the column moving. If Ezra and I run into any trouble, you'll have to rescue us. If you don't see us waiting at the pass ahead, you'll know that we ran into trouble, and it's time to escape. Break up the column and take to the trails. Head north until you can get to a safer road."

The captain shook his head and said, "You got us this far, Mister Blackwood. If you are in any kind of trouble, I won't abandon you."

"I'll take your word on that," the detective replied. He kicked his spurs and took off in a gallop with Ezra following close behind. They rode this way for a few miles. When they found the scouts who were ranging ahead, they ordered the men back to the column. To let the horses rest, the two detectives slowed down to a trot. Jack got out his field glasses and began to scan the road ahead. To the northeast and southeast he could see the Bull Run Mountains, and straight ahead in there was the pass through the mountains called the Thoroughfare Gap.

Ezra spoke up and said, "I'm surprised by the change of the captain's attitude toward you. He almost seems human now."

Jack put the field glasses down and replied, "I've also been taken aback by his words. He definitely knows something about those murders, but he hasn't had the chance to tell me yet. Maybe with a little more time he will open up. He's knows something but still doesn't feel comfortable telling me yet."

"So you don't think he is a suspect anymore?"

Jack did not answer. Instead he pointed down the rails towards the pass ahead and said. "If there is an ambush waiting for us, it's bound to be just on the other side of the pass. It's the best place to spring a trap."

"We had better get into the woods and work our way in a little closer to take a look."

The detective smiled and said, "That's exactly what I had in mind Ezra. I'll make a soldier of you yet." He got off his horse, pulled out his rifle from the scabbard and limped into the forest with his mare in tow.

"Not if I can help it," the black man grumbled to himself as he jumped down from his horse. He pulled out his own rifle and began to follow.

They went in a few feet into the bramble and tied their mounts to a branch of an old oak tree. The forest was quiet, and the green of the leaves was still fresh with the last touches of spring. Using the butt of his rifle as a cane, Jack carefully pulled himself along the fringe of the forest with Ezra taking the lead. Within a few minutes of walking they were in sight of the gap between the mountains. Behind them, the sun was getting ready to set and lit the horizon with a red and orange glow. The day's heat had begun to abate, but the humidity was still high and clung heavily to their clothing.

Jack hissed for his partner to stop. They both dropped down to the ground. In the distance he thought he saw a quick flare of a small flame, but he wasn't sure. He pulled out his battered field glasses and swept them slowly between the two mountains. A dim red glow gave away a sentry smoking a cigarette. He was standing, hidden in the trees on the side of the tracks, and could only be seen when the dot of a cherry-red ember glowed in the shadows. The detective debated a moment within himself before turning to his friend with a nod.

Ezra slid over and asked, "Do you see anything?"

Jack handed over the binoculars to him and said, "Look to the north side of the tracks, standing next to that elm tree with the broken branch." He waited as his partner looked through the glasses.

"You've still got a good eye there," his partner whispered. "What do you plan to do now?"

"Well, I want you to sneak over to the other side of the tracks. Let's start a little trouble and see if we can get the whole bunch out of hiding."

"We don't have much time until the captain catches up with us," Ezra warned.

"Then you had better hurry up and stay low against the rails so you aren't seen. Don't shoot until you see anyone get too close to me. For now I want them to think there is just one of us."

"Fine," Ezra said. He handed the field glasses back and began a cautious crawl over to the other side of the rail embankment.

Jack rested his Colt rifle against a fallen tree and watched the gap ahead through the scope. His friend's movement appeared to go undetected and no further movement was seen in the pass, except for the sentry who had the bad sense to light yet another cigarette.

After he saw that his partner was in position, Jack looked carefully through the scope to take aim. A headshot would be difficult so it was best to go for the chest. Knowing that a shot at this distance would drop it was best to aim high. Waiting until the sentry took another drag, Jack let his breath out and gently squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 20

The shot felt good. The sound ricocheted between the valley of the mountains. Jack hoped that the tell-tale smoky discharge could not easily be seen with the sun against his back. After the recoil, he peered down the scope again and saw the sentry had crumpled to the ground. Another figure broke away from the forest and slowly approached the fallen body. It was an older man with a shock of white hair, who looked about in confusion. This second sentry pulled his fellow soldier back towards the pass. The detective fired again, missing this new target on purpose. This would allow the sentry to escape and warn his comrades.

Holding his fire, Jack swept his scope back and forth looking for another opportunity. Within minutes he was rewarded as a large group of mounted rebel cavalry rode from the protection of the pass. A quick count showed at least fifty of them. They were cautiously approaching the sentries' position, riding low in their saddles looking for the source of the gunfire.

Jack picked another target, a fat officer with a plumed hat, and fired again. The shot missed. He quickly fired again and the bullet struck the man in the arm and he tumbled off his horse. Some of the men turned their horses and rode away in fear. Others quickly dismounted, diving to find cover near the rails. One brave soul crawled up to the officer and began dragging him back to the rail embankment.

This time the location of the sniping was recognized and the rebels began firing sporadically back at his position. The shots were inaccurate due to the distance and with the setting sun in their eyes. With the minie balls going over his head, Jack rolled into the forest and lined up his Colt rifle again. He fired at a sergeant moving forward on his knees to get a well-aimed shot. The man fell over dead, hit squarely in the forehead.

Jack crawled further into the underbrush to begin the tortuously slow method of reloading his rifle. Once he had disappeared into the woods, the number of gunshots in his direction began to diminish. His heart was pounding hard in his ears, but he smiled to himself at the thought of his own audacity. Everything was going to plan so far – if only Ellsworth would show up in time to save them from being overwhelmed by a cavalry charge.

Some of the rebels began to creep forward cautiously, using what little cover they could find along the rails embankment. Others jumped up and crashed into the woods to gain further cover; a boulder here, a bush there. A few of the soldiers had mounted up again and looked to join in the progress towards Jack's position.

This group of rebels made it some forty yards before Ezra opened fire with his Colt rifle. Though he did not have the accuracy of a scope, two of the leading soldiers on foot went down, screaming in pain. Chaos reigned as horses wheeled about. Several wild shots were fired at this new threat. Ezra quickly stood up, ran, and disappeared into the darkening forest with a smattering of lead following close behind him.

Jack stuck the rifle out through the clump of bushes he was hiding in. He sighted down the scope and fired another round. The fifty-six caliber minie ball cracked in the evening air and struck a horseback rider in the chest.

With this new attack, the approaching party was forced to ignore Ezra's escape. Jack saw them once again return their interest to his source of gunfire. He took careful aim, fired again and hit the next lead man who was on foot. As Jack watched, the man went down. The detective then rolled to his right and crawled away from his hiding spot into another.

The men on foot dropped to the ground and began returning slow steady fire, aiming where they last saw the muzzle flashes. Their aim was erratic with the lead balls tearing through leaves and branches of the detective's last location. As the firing continued, the rebel soldiers continued their cautious move forward along the side of the rail embankment.

Having crawled to another location, Jack kept low as he turned to watch the disorganized group of soldiers. The light of the valley dappled over them in the growing darkness; their movements were like shapes in the trees, their gray wool back blending into the shadows. They appeared to be over their sudden shock of attack and were attempting to organize a systematic response.

Towards the pass, the remaining twenty or so soldiers were mounted up and were checking the loads in their pistols. It looked if they were readying to charge his position and beat the bushes until they found where he was hiding out. Jack frowned to himself and put his Starr pistol out on the ground to rest next to him. It looked as if the rebels were too close for him to have the chance to reload his rifle. He slid the rifle out slowly from his hiding spot and looked down the long scope again. He fired over the prone soldiers and hit one of the cavalrymen in the rear.

The man slumped over. The rest of the men immediately kicked their spurs and began to charge forward. They whooped loudly in the air, some waving their sabers high in the air. As they saw their compatriots charge, the other soldiers jumped out of the way and shouted them onwards.

Jack fired again and a lead horse in the pack whinnied and stumbled. There was a scream of terror as the rear horses collided into the wounded animal. Several men fell but the loosely formed charge continued on. In haste, Jack fired his last remaining cylinder but couldn't tell if the bullet had struck home. He then picked up the Starr and waited for the range to close.

There was a sudden crash of gunfire. Jack saw it was Ezra shooting his two Colt Navy pistols at the horsemen as they galloped by. He was standing up and firing each round as fast as he could pull the trigger. It was a foolish move that opened him up to being easily hit, but it bought some further time. His hail of bullets tore through the flank of the horsemen, and several more soldiers and horses crashed to the ground. The attack was quickly answered by the men on foot and the black man went down, falling on the side of the rails. Jack could not tell if his friend was injured or not, nor could he rush over to find out, for he had his own pressing concerns.

The horses reared up near to his location and the remaining men jumped off to start searching through the dense woods. By Jack's quick count there were some dozen enemies left. They walked stiffly and held their sabers and pistols at the ready.

Sweat had pooled from the detective's hat band into his eyebrows, salt stinging the creases of his eyes. He wiped his forehead and looked back west down the rails. He couldn't see any Federal cavalry riding to the rescue. This looked like a good place as any other to die, so he looked down the sight of his Starr pistol at the nearest soldier and squeezed the trigger. He missed. The rebels all dropped to the ground to find cover amongst the trees and began to return fire at his position. The lead balls hummed through the air and smacked the trees around him.

Covering his head with one arm, the detective stayed low in the underbrush, taking a shot at an approaching rebel soldier. The man flung his arms up in the air and rolled on his side with a howl. At once the return fire grew in intensity as the soldiers shot at where they saw the rising cloud of their attacker's black powder smoke. Some shots were so close that clods of earth flew up near Jack, hitting his leg with grass and dirt. He hugged the ground as tightly as he could. Over the sound of the gunfire, he could just hear the hard drumming of his own heart. Panic gripped him, and he fought the urge to get up and flee from the spot.

The drumming sound grew louder and Jack then realized it was the sound of horses galloping. He twisted his neck around and saw it was Ellsworth, leading the column in a desperate charge. They had their guns and swords drawn high – shouting a battle cry as they went.

The rebels began firing back but were overwhelmed by the mass of Federal troops. Horses trampled the prone men and swept forward. The atmosphere around Jack changed immediately; gunfire, smoke and chaos filled the air as he shouted in relief. He had been saved and just in time.

Jack joined in the gunfire towards the fragmentary remains of the rebel troops. Now they were running away into the woods as fast as they could. He pushed himself off the ground and looked as the charge finished at the pass. It was a rout and there was a littered trail of a score of rebels and a few unlucky federal troops left behind. The rest of the enemy had vanished in fear. He took a deep breath, trying to dispel the fear that had taken over.

Seeing Ellsworth and the column wheel around ahead, Jack gave them a friendly wave with his hat. He then ran towards where he last saw Ezra standing. His friend was there, sitting with his back against a tree, holding a handkerchief to a bloody forehead. He looked up at Jack and gave him an unconcerned smile.

"Are you hit?" Jack asked, fearing for his partner's life.

Pulling his hand away, Ezra's forehead was cut open and a trickle of blood dripped onto his face. He said, "With all that lead going into the trees, I got hit in the head with a wood splinter. At first I thought I was dead, but it turned out to be just a scratch."

"I saw what you did, and I wanted to thank you. You are lucky to be alive."

"I don't feel so lucky. I'll get a scar from this."

"Don't worry; it will be something to brag about to the girls."

Ezra laughed and said, "I sure got them, didn't I?"

"You're a fool, but I thank you. You bought the both of us a little more time."

His partner merely shrugged his shoulders.

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "I can take care of myself you know – there's no reason to throw away your life on my account."

"And so you keep on telling me." His friend's face was creased in a rueful smile.

Ellsworth rode up, his face flushed with heat and excitement. He surveyed the carnage around them and said, "We were riding and heard the shooting up ahead. It sounded like we were missing out a good fight. The men were all eager to help."

"I'm glad you came – it was a near enough thing." Jack was thankful for the timely saving of his life. Still, his past feelings were in conflict - how could he be so grateful to a man he once loathed? Perhaps there was some good in this captain.

"The men were scared, but they were good weren't they?" Ezra asked with some pride.

Jack looked past the captain to the milling cavalrymen. Some looked sick to their stomachs while others were shouting with triumph. The gloom of the evening could not hide their happiness of still being alive.

The detective said, "Captain, I suggest we ride out of here as soon as we can."

"What about my dead?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to leave them for the rebels – I'm sure they will give them a good Christian burial."

With a proud grin on his face, Ellsworth twisted over to look back at his men. "They deserve a rest after such bravery."

"That may be, but every rebel who can run, ride, or walk is going to be looking for us now. This may have been just a smaller part of a larger force waiting for us ahead. They knew that we would have to ride this way eventually and now they know where we are. The column has to ride a little further on and find a place to hide before we can even think of resting."

"Very well, Mister Blackwood, you have steered us right so far. My men will be ready to ride as soon as you're ready to go."

"By the way I wanted to thank you again for saving our hides," Jack said. "There wasn't much left that we could do if you hadn't shown up in the nick of time."

Ellsworth smiled. "If you hadn't gone on ahead to scout, we all could have been ambushed by these damn rebels." He then gave his horse a kick, rode away, and began ordering the men to line up and prepare to leave.

Ezra looked expectantly at Jack to speak.

The detective said, "More than ever, Ezra, I don't know what to make of him."
Chapter 21

Evening came, and the cool night was a welcome relief from the blazing sun of the day. Mosquitoes hummed busily about, and the sound of crickets droned heavily in the background. Ellsworth's column of cavalry had wound its way past the Thoroughfare Gap and struck north, away from the rail line. They were headed towards Bull Run Creek which they would have to cross before getting to Centreville. After the tumultuous day, the soldiers were becoming tired and careless. They chattered noisily amongst themselves, each story of battle becoming more boastful with every telling.

"Have the men be quiet for a little longer," Jack warned Ellsworth.

"They are just excited with being alive," the captain said proudly.

"There's plenty more chances to die if we aren't careful. Tell them that we aren't safe until we pass through the rebel lines. Make sure they keep close together so no one is lost in the dark. We have a long ride ahead of us, and I don't want to lose anyone. Send scouts ahead, but make sure they don't go too far. I don't want to send out a search party for them if they get lost."

"At your command," Ellsworth grumbled sleepily. He gave the order and a sergeant travelled down the column to force quiet among the troops. Two men galloped ahead on the trail with orders to return if any trouble was spotted.

"How much longer will we be riding?" Ezra asked impatiently.

"Until we get there," his partner growled back. "Once we hit the creek, we'll ride north of it until we get to Centreville." He was tired too, and didn't feel like enforcing all this order, but it was his only chance of staying alive. He stretched a little, and moved his hat back further on his head. "I just hope that McDowell has gotten there by now, or we'll be running into a rebel picket soon enough."

"General McDowell will be there," Ellsworth said confidently. "Then he can give Beauregard a good thrashing. These rebels don't seem so tough to me."

"We were lucky. The one thing I learned in the army is that a battle never goes as planned. I hope your McDowell realizes that."

In the gloom, the captain nodded and said, "Rumor is that he is a careful man but is well-regarded. Tell me: how long were you in the army?" One could hear the smile in his voice.

"Just long enough to know I never want to go back."

Ezra snorted and said, "I wouldn't have guessed it today. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"I agree with your friend," the captain added. "You handled yourself well today. The division would be proud if you came and joined us for the rest of this war. I'm sure it will be over with soon enough, so you might as well enjoy it while you can."

Jack snorted. "Gentlemen, I've seen enough bloodshed and dying to last me a lifetime. We came for one reason only, to find the murderer of Lieutenant Folks. It had nothing to do with my patriotism or offering my army experience to your colonel. You do know, Ellsworth, we're here so we can keep an eye on you." He could see that his words had an immediate effect on the captain.

"I guessed as much," Ellsworth answered slowly. The smile was gone. "But I can tell you here and now that I never murdered those men. I've never killed or hurt anyone in anger until today."

"I wouldn't have believed you until you came and saved us today," Ezra said honestly.

Ellsworth turned to look at him, momentarily speechless. He started to speak, but was cut off by Jack.

The detective asked, "Why then don't you come clean with us for once and tell us what you do know about this whole situation? I know it was you in that apartment with those grisly mementos. What did you say to Private Wright the night he was killed?"

Ellsworth's voice became formal and he said, "At this moment I would rather not discuss my role in the matter. I can only assure you again that I did not kill anyone. I stake the honor of the division on my words."

"Damn your pride, man," Jack said with his voice raised, not heeding his own orders to keep quiet. "Damn the division and your fear of scandal. If you don't tell us what you know then I can only assume that you are the killer." He waited for the stunned the captain to respond and could hear several of the soldiers behind them begin to murmur in disbelief.

"Now hold on," Ezra said nervously, his hand up in an attempt to calm his friend. "Don't go throwing out any accusations without hearing him out."

"I'm giving him that chance right now," Jack replied angrily, his voice still raised.

Ellsworth said with even tones. "I give you my word that once I'm sure of my own findings, you will be the first to know. For now you will just have to trust me. And with that final word I consider the matter closed." He kicked his horse forward and rode ahead.

"Keep quiet back there," Jack snapped crossly at the men behind him. His tired shoulders drooped, and he wrapped himself in his own thoughts, as if they were a blanket. They rode into the blackness of the night. He now knew Ellsworth couldn't be the murderer but wondered who the captain was protecting. Was it Riley? Had that young man more secrets than just sleeping with a whore, and had he come up with the story to throw him off the scent? What did Ellsworth know, and why hadn't he reported his findings to Colonel Franklin?

An hour later, the quiet mumbling of the men stopped as a horseman rode towards them. It was a returning scout who stopped to talk to Ellsworth. The two of them had some low whispered words. Jack rode up to meet them.

"Seems like there is a bit of trouble ahead," Ellsworth said flatly to the detective.

The scout added, "Yes, sir. We found a picket up ahead. He's standing on the side of the trail smoking his pipe."

"How many?" Jack asked with concern.

"Just one of them from what we could see. We would have run right into him if we hadn't smelled his tobacco in the air. I came back as quickly as I could while leaving Thomas behind to watch."

Ellsworth asked, "What do you suggest we do, Mister Blackwood? Ride him down?"

"Nah, that will stir up a hornet's nest. His regiment could be nearby, and if he gave a warning shot, we would all be in trouble. I suggest we bluff him - we ride on by like we're supposed to be there. It's dark enough that they won't be able to see the color of your uniforms."

"If you say so," the captain said skeptically. Then he gave the necessary orders. The men stayed quiet as they proceeded along the trail.

Jack could soon smell the tobacco. He saw the other scout on the side of the trail. He motioned for the man to ride behind him.

The column rode a few more yards before a voice shouted out, "Who goes there?" There was a click of a musket hammer being drawn back.

Jack tried out his best southern drawl and replied, "1st North Carolina Cavalry." In the gloom he could see a roughly-dressed rebel standing on the trail with his rifle at the ready.

"What is your business here?" the soldier called out as he looked over the long line of horsemen.

"We're on a special mission for General Beauregard."

"What kind of mission would require so many men?" The voice was tinged with suspicion.

Still using his drawl, Jack explained: "Word is that McDowell is on the other side of the creek." He pointed then looked back at the private. "We were sent this away to see if it is true. I have so many men here so we can put a good scare into them. We plan to do a little shooting and stop 'em from having a good night's sleep."

After a tense pause, the rebel soldier lowered his rifle and let out a laugh. "Well, I haven't had a good night's sleep in a long while. I guess those Yanks don't deserve one either."

"We'll be passing back this way soon enough, so pass the word onto the next man on watch."

"I will at that."

"Oh and Private, put out that pipe of yours. You can smell it a mile away."

"Sorry, sir - guess I wasn't thinking."

Riding by, Jack saw the private give him a salute and move to the side of the trail to let the column pass. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned as he rode and watched to make sure that no one gave the game away. Soon enough they were past the picket and riding free into what should have been Union-controlled territory.

It was a long night with only a few stops to feed and water the horses. In the early morning the exhausted men and horses stumbled to the very edges of Centreville. The rising sun gleamed weakly in the east while everyone stretched and yawned. The ranging scouts had come back and reported that a large army encampment was in place at the town.

Jack motioned for the column to stop. The horses bunched up behind him as the column ground to a halt. With his field glasses he could see the dim embers of hundreds of campfires that had not been tended recently. Tired sentries in Federal blue walked back and forth across, slapping their arms together to stay warm.

Ellsworth had stopped ahead and swept the town with his own set of glasses.

Jack rode up next to him and was greeted with a quick hard stare from Ellsworth who then returned to examining the encampment. "We made it," the captain commented. "Those are Union soldiers all right."

Jack was beginning to not like Ellsworth again and said, "It's not over yet, captain. McDowell still has a battle to win."

With the captain's order, the column went on and surprised the sleepy-eyed sentries. Once recognized, they allowed them to pass onto the road leading into town. There they saw groups of soldiers sprawled on the ground along the road, sleeping in the ditch and clustered together to stay warm in the morning chill. After getting some confused directions, the column threaded its way towards a large livery barn where they were told their division was stationed.

Ferran was standing at the entrance of the barn doing guard duty. His face lit up as he saw the column approach. He gave a shout and waved his arms in happiness. He ran forward to meet them and said, "I didn't think I would see any of you alive ever again. We've all been most worried, especially the colonel."

Jack gave him an exhausted salute and pulled himself off of his tired mare. Along with the rest of the column, he led her by the bridle to be fed and watered by the awoken ensigns. As Ferran followed, the detective said, "I guess we're all a little tired right now. It's been a long trip, Corporal."

Ezra was already leaning against the barn wall and gave a stretch of his arms before sitting down on the ground to rest. "And dangerous too," he added.

Jack joined his friend next to the barn and sat down to stretch his legs. He watched Ferran excitedly wave some fellows over to talk when the exhaustion hit. It seemed almost too much effort to sit up straight, and his arms ached as he stretched. Yesterday had been long, exciting, and dangerous. On top of that, he knew that the colonel would want to hear a report of their actions.

The corporal interrupted his thoughts by asking, "We've just got here late last night and we're all waiting for some the battle to start. We were jealous that the captain and you got to do something exciting. Some of the boys want to hear what happened to you." A group of men gathered around and waited expectantly for the detective to speak.

Jack waved them away tiredly. "Go on and leave me alone for a while. I gotta get some rest now."

"But sir, we've had a boring march up here. Most of the infantry just slept on the side of the road or picked blueberries. We had to ride up and down the column to round up stragglers while General Tyler and his cavalry got to ride down the rebel pickets at Fairfax. His boys are strutting around like they won the whole war. You gotta tell us something of what you did out there."

Jack gave a glance to Ezra who had begun to lightly snore and then he shot Ferran a grin. "Look, I know how you feel. I'll answer your questions in another hour or so – but let me get a little sleep first. Go see the men who were there with us. They can tell you everything you need to know."

The men around the corporal grumbled and walked away to find someone else who would talk to them.

Ferran said, "Fine, but I'll want to hear your side of the story no matter what." With those words he walked sulkily away to join his friends.

Shutting his eyes, Jack leaned heavily against the barn wall and listened lazily to the sounds of the camp as men woke up around them. Fires were being built to make coffee and the summer heat was already beginning to bake the hardened ground. A few horses galloped by and a number of men began to shout orders. Jack sat there just feeling content to be alive and began to think of Anna. Would she be there when he came back or would she have gone back to New York? He didn't like the idea of her leaving with Charles Folks, but what could he do to persuade her to stay in Washington? The only thing he could offer her was an apartment above a tailor's shop and a ragged flow of income. But still, it might be worth the effort to try. He already missed the touch of her soft white skin, and the way that long black hair had rested on the pillow.

Even with the surrounding noise, Jack found himself falling asleep. He began to dream of that dark alleyway leading to that apartment. He remembered the bloody trophies and the sound of running footsteps. Dimly he heard a voice calling out his name, it came through the veils of sleep and he felt a heavy kick on his feet. Drowsily opening his eyes, he looked up to see Ellsworth standing above him.

"The colonel wishes to speak to you – right now."

"Fine," Jack replied sleepily as he pushed himself up from the ground. He rubbed his dry, sleep-encrusted eyes and staggered behind the captain, trying to gather his wits. Walking through the crowded encampment, they soon came to a large command tent that had been setup for the colonel. He was studying a map at large table covered with papers.

Franklin shook Jack's hand and said, "It's good to see you again, Mister Blackwood. I'm proud of what you and Captain Ellsworth were able to accomplish. I had misgivings about the whole operation, and I seriously doubted whether you would ever come back. But these papers here certainly prove that such raids are most important to the gathering of intelligence."

"It was nothing," Jack said with a shrug.

"The captain here filled me in on where you went." Franklin traced their route through the map. "It is most remarkable how you ambushed those couriers and made your escape. God willing, these papers will inform McDowell of the enemy's intentions. They will allow him to make the correct decisions on the upcoming battle."

"Why isn't the army moving out now?" Jack asked. In all honesty he was surprised by that attitude of this General McDowell. The whole army should have been on the march by now instead of sitting around. "The longer we wait here, the more men that Johnston can move to this location."

"I will tell the general your concerns. Right now he's trying to get the lay of the land before he deploys his forces. The enemy knows the ground while we are hampered with piecemeal information."

"You tell the general that he must hurry and move now. It's best to attack before the enemy can strengthen its positions. Those papers we captured are evidence enough of Beauregard's intentions."

"I will tell you that McDowell has just sent General Tyler to pass the right of the rebels." He pointed to Blackburn's Ford on the map. "Once he has breached their line, the rest of us will follow and push them all the way back to Richmond."

"I pray that you are right," Jack said laconically.

"If we have further needs of your services, I will have you summoned. But for now consider your part of this war finished." It was a dismissal.

Jack gave a short salute and walked back to the barn feeling bone-weary. He was surprised a bit at being let go by the colonel, but also relieved. He shuffled his way back to the barn. Most of the soldiers were lying about lazily with nothing to do, while others were moving ammunition and foodstuffs.

Ezra was awake when he arrived, but still looked exhausted. With a lazy wave, he greeted Jack. "What are we going to do now that we got here?"

"Sit and watch these two blasted armies get shot to pieces. There's nothing else for us to do right now, so let's try to find ourselves some breakfast."
Chapter 22

Afternoon came and Jack and Ezra were still sitting, resting by the side of the barn, busy watching the soldiers. They had lit a fire and were making coffee from the meager rations they had gotten. To their surprise, Major Hall came walking up. He smiled when he saw them and shook both of their hands. Even with the withering heat, he was crisply dressed. Jack wondered how he kept his uniform so clean.

"Word has gotten around the camp about you," the major said, his face beaming.

"I hope it was something good," Ezra commented dryly.

"You two shouldn't be so withdrawn. There are a few officers would like to meet the pair that rode a hundred men through enemy-controlled territory and managed to come back in one piece. They would like to know how you did it."

"Sheer luck," Jack said with a shrug.

Hall laughed and crouched down next to them. He pulled out a small silver flask, took a pull from it, and passed it over to Ezra. "Now why don't we have a little drink? I have something to propose to the two of you."

Ezra took a long time before passing the flask over to his partner.

Jack sniffed at it and smelled whiskey. He happily lifted the flask to his lips. The warm liquor burned in his mouth. It felt good. "Thank you, Major. I can't tell you how much I wanted a sip of the good stuff." He handed the flask back and said, "Now what exactly do you want to ask of us?"

"Well, McDowell is busy planning his attack. I'm going to be part of the big offensive against the enemy flank. I would appreciate a word of advice from you."

They were interrupted was a sudden sound of thunder in the distance and everyone stopped to listen. It was scattered cannon fire coming from afar. A few men cheered and began to talk excitedly about the battle ahead. Ezra looked apprehensively at Jack, who just raised an eyebrow and continued to listen to the faraway noise. The major's face turned pale. Hall looked distinctly nervous with the idea of marching into war.

"What were you saying, Major?" the detective asked. .

"Ah, yes. McDowell wants me to be there as his eyes and ears – attach myself back to the 5th Infantry as the attack is made. I was wondering if you have any words of wisdom for me."

The thundering of the cannons subsided and was replaced by distant rifle shots that sounded like breaking twigs. The chattering of the camp soldiers decreased as they grew used to the sound, but there was still a hum of tense excitement in the air.

"I'm sure you will do alright out there – just reassure the soldiers and have them fight as hard as they can. They will follow a man who will lead them."

"You really have no further advice? I hate to admit this to any man, but I fear losing my life over such a silly political issue."

Jack gave a gentle laugh and said, "Pardon me, Major, but there's not much else I can tell you. We are all victims of the cruel hand of fate. If it's your time to go, then you just have to make the best of it. We all have our own way of dealing with fear." He motioned to the flask in Hall's hand. "I suggest you save some of that before you go into battle. It won't help too much, but it can't hurt if you get hit."

The major nodded slowly and slipped the flask back into his breast pocket. He stood up, his face pale with worry, and his shoulders set squarely.

A rider came from the south, galloping hard towards the command tent of General MacDowell. All eyes turned and watched the rider.

At the sight of this, Hall's mind seemed to return to performing his duty. His voice was calm as he bid them farewell. "I had better get going, Mister Blackwood. That looks to be a messenger from General Tyler."

Jack was still tired enough to be watching instead of doing things. After the shared whiskey and their talk, he felt he should have stood up in deference as the major left; instead he nodded and watched the retreating back

Ferran soon came by and watched as Jack poked at the fire. "Have you heard the news?" he asked. "There was a messenger from General Tyler's command. Ellsworth just told me he was there at General McDowell's tent with the colonel. It seems that Tyler's probing on the southeast side of the flank has been repulsed. There were a few men wounded in the skirmish, and they will return to camp soon."

Jack looked up and said resignedly, "The General is throwing away his time. He had better attack now while he can – there's no point waiting around here anymore."

The corporal shrugged. "Well, I'll take your word on that. But MacDowell is a favorite of old General Scott and we got here in one piece so far."

Jack pointed at the mass of men looking nervously towards the distant sound of battle. "I can see that those three-monthers aren't so ready to fight now." A number of soldiers were only signed up for three months, and their time was ending within the week. Such inexperienced troops could not be counted on to hold steady in the face of battle.

"Who can blame them?" Ezra interjected. "War looks like an adventure until you get in the middle of it."

Ferran laughed, the smile lighting up his tired features. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you, Ezra. I'd rather be back at my town of Albany than be here. Now even mucking out stables sounds better than marching to me. But don't worry, these men will fight when the time comes. It sounds like we did good enough with you up there at the Thoroughfare Gap."

"Good enough to keep me alive," Jack admitted. "I was worried that Captain Ellsworth would never come to save us."

"Well then, there's nothing to worry about." The corporal's tone became optimistic. "I'm sure we'll march out tomorrow and be done with it all. Those rebels won't be able to hold up against us."

"I hope you're right."

Ferran's news was confirmed when General Tyler later returned to the encampment with his men lagging behind. While the soldiers gathered around to hear any news of the action, the ambulance wagons came with the wounded aboard. Men murmured and pointed as the broken and bleeding soldiers passed by. It was a sullen camp that bedded down later that night.

It turned out that Ferran was wrong about the timing of the attack, and most of the soldiers stayed around Centreville the next day. Men were getting bored, and Jack noticed that the inexperienced men were becoming more morose with each passing hour. MacDowell rounded up a few cavalry escorts and took off for the day. The expectation of his return caused rumors to fly through the ranks as everyone expected to march within the hour. Ferran stopped by and discussed what he had heard, but nothing truly newsworthy was to be learned. In a few hours, MacDowell returned with his retinue and disappeared into his command tent without a word.

The next day expectations were high, but yet again MacDowell left the camp to scout ahead. Supply wagons were brought forward and distributed food and ammunition amongst the soldiers. Jack and Ezra drew some stocks from the division's supply and spent the day wandering about the camp to pass time. They saw little of the colonel or any of the other officers of the 27th.

Later, when they returned to their makeshift camp, Ferran ran up excitedly to share the news. "Word is we're finally going to move out and make our attack tomorrow."

"It's about time," Ezra replied lazily as he began making their supper.

"Yeah, the rest of the army is going to teach those rebels a lesson. I wish I could go with them."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked. "Aren't you going?"

"I'm afraid our division has been ordered to hold back and protect Centreville. The boys are all disappointed, but I told them that they're bound to call us up if they needed any cavalry. I'm sure they will need us once McDowell runs into trouble."

Jack shrugged and sat down on the ground again and tipped his hat on his head to keep the sun out. "I guess we'll be waiting here some more then. How are those beans coming, Ezra?"

The soldiers of the encampment were busy gathering equipment, cleaning guns, and readying the horses to haul the cannons. Others began marching off to their rallying point, while other men nervously checked and re-checked their muskets. It was a restless camp that went to bed early that night – each man chattering endlessly to his friends with his own courageous words.

Jack, who normally was not bothered by second guessing or self-recrimination, could not sleep that night. It had cooled a bit in the evening, and the small breeze stirred the trees nearby. It made an odd pattern of noise, and did not soothe him. He tossed and turned, thinking of the case, which was not really nearer resolution than when they had left Washington. He consoled himself by thinking that at least there had been no further murders. At least that part of his plan had gone right. Though Ezra would have come anyway, he could have given him a choice to stay behind. He thought about his suspicions of Ellsworth's behavior and how that had all melted in the sun of some warm words and apparent friendship. And when his thoughts wandered away from the case, they turned to the action he had seen in the days before, and might see in the day ahead.

It was in the early morning hours when the men were awakened by sergeants barking out orders. The sun had not even risen yet. Ellsworth strode over and found Jack and Ezra awake.

"I'm glad to see you two awake," the captain said. "The colonel had a word with General McDowell, and he has gotten permission for us to view the battle. I was wondering if you would care to join us."

"I wasn't planning on it, but I wouldn't mind going."

Ezra looked at his partner with surprise and said, "I think it would be safer back here."

"Don't worry, Ezra, we won't be in the battle. We'll just watch from a safe distance."

Ellsworth said, "It would be my pleasure, Mister Blackwood. I heard that this column will be marching on the right flank that will be striking straight towards Manassas. There will be some diversions to draw away Beauregard from our attack. It's bound to be a good fight."

Jack yawned and said, "Well then, Captain, we'll go along with you just to watch. It beats waiting here."

"Good. The rest of the division will be staying here for now to guard the supply wagons. You best get your mounts ready to go, and we'll move out soon to follow the column."

They went to the paddock to get their horses. Jack patted the side of his mare and pulled himself up on the saddle. He said to his partner, "Don't you worry, Ezra, these types of fights have little bloodshed. Just a few men shooting at each other while the other side ducks for cover. It'll be over before you know it."

"I'm not worried about the shooting – I just want to be far enough so a cannon ball doesn't take my head off."

Jack laughed. "Well now, I never had the opportunity to be shot at by cannon. But there is a first time for everything."

They rode their horses up and met the already saddled Franklin and Ellsworth. Both looked a little pale but in control of their emotions.

Franklin said in even tones, "Ah, Mister Blackwood, I'm glad you could join us this morning. I received permission from McDowell to witness his victory. But you must understand that we've been told to guard the supplies, so I won't be able to stay on the battlefield for long. I tried to persuade the general that we would be better suited to scout and harass the enemy, but he wouldn't hear of it. He told me this battle is a job for infantry."

"The general is a fool then," Jack disagreed.

"That may be, but I'm in no position to criticize him. The general is a fine man and well-learned in military matters." He added lamely in defense.

The soldiers in front of them began to gather in the lantern lit gloom. Sergeants shoved the men into ranks and shouted at them be quiet. The bleary-eyed men grumbled and started to form up haphazardly into a long marching column.

Jack watched the clumsy operation for a while before speaking. "If I can ask, Colonel, what exactly is the general's plan?"

"I think it's a good idea – there are going to be diversionary attacks by two more forces while the rest of us swing on the west side of the enemy flank. We'll attack where the rebels least expect it and roll up their entire line."

Jack just smiled benignly and said, "Every plan looks good on paper, but you never know how they will work until you try it out. If Beauregard falls for the ruse, then McDowell can shatter the right flank. If not, then he had better hope that the rebels will be slow to react to our movements. Speed is necessary to pull off any surprise – well, the little surprise we have left after staying here for two days."

It was a slow march in the darkness. A few officers tried to correct the sloppy column, but any tight formations quickly disintegrated in the confusion. No marching music dared be played and only the constant drum of feet could be heard along the Warrington Pike road heading west.

After a while, Ezra nervously said, "How much further do we have to go?"

"Just another hour before we reach Sudley Ford," Franklin replied.

But it was still longer than that before they reached the landmark. The column was running late and dawn was beginning to break along the eastern sky. The colonel took out his pocket watch, checked the time, and shook his head with disbelief. The column ahead was slowing down when it should have been marching faster.

As they got closer to the rendezvous past the bridge, the shattering sound of cannon and the distance crack of rifle shot could be heard to their left. Ezra looked nervously at Jack, who spurred his horse ahead to cross the ford. They passed through the road and came to a tilled field where rows of cannon were hastily being setup. With an order, confused regiments broke off from the column and began assembling on either side.

Rebel minie balls began peppering the ground ahead, the shots coming from the plumes of smoke on a small hill ahead of the assembling regiments. There two cannons were at work, discharging their iron shot onto the scattered Federal soldiers below. Jack pulled himself off his horse, and the others quickly followed suit. From his point of view, it seemed as if the artillery was aiming directly at them.

"Perhaps we should get the horses out of the way," the detective suggested hastily. "We'll just make good targets for them.

The colonel readily agreed, and together they led their mounts back deeper into the woods behind them. There the bridles were tied to a tree. The colonel then led the way as they returned to the forming lines of soldiers. The Union cannons began to fire back and rake the rebel held hill with shot. At this time the Federal regiments of soldiers were ordered to lie on the ground and watch as the artillery went to work. Round after round was fired. Jack had to hold his ears shut from the loud crescendo of fire.

The sound was too intense, so at the colonel's prompting they decided to walk further away to the west. They went down the line and came to an infantry regiment waiting prone in the field. The major there walked confidently past his men and repeated consoling words. He saw the colonel and gave a quick salute before returning to his duties. It was Hall and his face was pale, but he kept his posture erect and looked impassively on as cannonballs ricocheted across the field.

With a wave to the major, Jack held up his field glasses and looked at the tree-lined hill as it was bombarded with shell and shot. Protected from any direct cannon shot, the rebels seemed to be lying in wait on the other side of the incline. Random rebel musket fire continued to come from hidden skirmishers in the woods to the side. Though the range was great, a number of soldiers in front of them were wounded and quickly carried away by members of the regimental band.

After another soldier nearby was hit, Ellsworth grabbed Franklin's arm and pulled him roughly down to the mossy earth. "Perhaps we should wait down here for a moment, sir," he shouted above the noise. "There's no reason to make yourself a target."

The colonel nodded, his attention rapt on the scene in front of him. They all waited, lying in a low depression as the colonel nervously checked the time. Peering through his field glasses, Jack could see further rebel troops marching to the hill from the woods behind. At Hall's orders, the regiment ahead of them stood and began firing into the woods and reloading carefully as the sergeant called out with drill-like precision. A thick blanket of gunpowder smoke rose high above them, and then the detective could see no further.

This seemed to go on and on - the men reloading and firing, the thud of artillery, the cries of the wounded as they were pulled away from the lines. Jack looked at his partner, who was hugging the ground tightly. He patted him on the shoulder and looked to find Ellsworth. The captain was retching in some nearby bushes while the colonel looked impassively on at the battle in front of him.

Hall came unconcernedly over to them, walking slowly as if it was just another Sunday stroll. He saluted Franklin and said, "Sir, I was wondering if you gentlemen would care to accompany us further along. We are going to push those rebels off the hill."

Ezra looked up the major and shook his head as if wondering how someone could act to unconcerned.

The colonel hastily said, "I'm afraid I can't join you, Major. I really must return to camp. I have to be ready to go back to Centreville as my duty requires. However Ellsworth here can stay and be my eyes and ears. He can ride back if there is any sign of danger to my position."

"Very well, sir," Hall replied flatly. "I will gladly have the good captain here come with me."

"Do I have to go with him, sir?" Ellsworth gulped. He took a drink from his canteen and his shaking hand caused half of it to splatter onto his woolen jacket. "I don't see why I am required to do such a task – after all I'm with the cavalry, not in the infantry."

Franklin shook his head. "No, go on and take the hill with the major. War is a young man's job. I will go back to Centreville and take command there. I expect you to be back with me soon enough."

Ellsworth saluted but gave Jack a look filled with misery.

"C'mon Ezra," the detective said. He pulled his friend off of his feet, and they all followed Hall as he returned to his men.

There the major shouted the orders for his men to move forward. Keeping their distance at a few paces, Jack, Ezra, and the captain fell in behind the marching line of men. Skirmishers were leading the regiment as it began to march slowly towards the hill. The flags were held high but did not wave in the windless heat of the day. The drum pounded harder, and the men began to march faster to the rhythm. A rebel cannon ball struck the ground and ricocheted right into the battalion, splattering the air with droplets of blood. Ezra looked sick as he walked past a line of torn corpses. Ellsworth spat into the ground as the rear sergeants pushed the lines of soldiers back together into a cohesive line.

Scattered rebel gunfire struck the broad front of Union soldiers, but each time the line reformed to fill the gaping holes. The wounded limped or crawled away while the dead lay in peace. Step after step, the men drew closer to the hill. Step by step, the soldiers of the Union began to die. There was a sudden ragged cheer and halfway up the battalion began running up the low hillside. The smoke cleared enough for Jack to see that the rebel line had broken and began retreating towards a much larger hill behind. The battalion stopped and formed up to fire. The order "Fire!" rang out, and a barrage of muskets hit a few unlucky targets, but the detective noticed that most of the Union soldiers fired too high to have any effect. The men paused and calmly reloaded. The clatter of hundreds of ramrods could be heard driving the charge and bullet into the barrel. Then the order was given to advance and within moments the battalion took the top of the hill.

The scattered rebels had fled on to the next hill beyond. For now the battalion was ordered to rest behind the crest of the captured hill, safe from enemy fire. Men slumped down to the ground and drank greedily from their canteens. Their faces were blackened from the paper cartridges that were bitten off to load their rifles. The sweat from their faces, mixed with the powder, left a grimy trail on their shirts and hair. Some smiled with the happiness of being alive while others looked dejectedly to the rear to see the trail of dead and wounded that they had left behind.

Ellsworth collapsed on the ground and began to sob.

The rebels now held the next hill where there was a simple wooden frame house that was painted white. A dense forest towards the back hid any signs of enemy movement. At the crest, Jack dropped on the grass of their newly gained position and swept his field glasses around the grounds of the house. He saw the area was occupied by a line of rebel troops holding low against a stone fence. Several rifles protruded from the windows of the house.

Hall crawled over to Jack and Ezra to look. His brass telescope stopped and he muttered, "That wall will be tough to crack."

"What do you aim to do next?" Jack asked.

"For now I wait. I took this hill as ordered and my men need to rest."
Chapter 23

Checking his watch, Jack was surprised that it was already past noon. The sun was high in the sky and the air was hot and still. From their vantage point on the hill and through the clouds of gun smoke, he could see the advancing lines of the Union army. Artillery was being brought forward to the newly captured positions. But instead of advancing on the fleeing rebels, the advance had stopped. The soldiers were waiting prone on the ground again.

"What are they doing?" Jack shouted at Hall.

The major merely shrugged his shoulder and continued to look through his telescope.

"If you ask me, they're giving the rebels a chance to regroup," Ezra commented, his voice barely hiding his contempt.

The newly setup Union cannon fire began bombarding the rebel position. The grapeshot and balls began burying themselves into the hill or bouncing into milling ranks of rebels. In the chaos, two teams of Federal artillery charged recklessly up the enemy controlled hill and began unlimbering their guns.

Jack shook his head in amazement and grunted, "Damn fools, they're too close!" And the artillerymen were at that – for rebel musket fire and sharpshooters began to rake the position with accurate shot. Soon the artillerymen were left dead near their cannons. Wounded horses limped away in terror.

Biting his lip, the detective watched as the battle see-sawed back and forth. Each side was desperate to hold the discarded cannons and several attempts were made to capture them. Each time the Union troops took control, they were repulsed by rebels hidden in the woods around the crest of the hill. The wounded Federals, who could walk, limped painfully to the back, while some were dragged away by their comrades. The Union attacks on the hill were piecemeal and each time a ragged battalion attacked, it was unsupported by artillery or other men. Close rebel artillery continued to rip holes in the lines of the Union soldiers. In fear of hitting their own men, Union cannons ineffectually fired behind the enemy lines.

"How much longer will this go on?" Ezra asked wearily. His voice as tinged with disgust. "How much longer can they stand the killing?"

Jack didn't answer but returned to sweeping the hill with his field glasses. He could see that the Union troops were continuing to try to outflank the hill, but were being beaten back by the thinning defensive positions of the rebels. Along the hills and contours of the land, soldiers hugged the ground to load and fire their guns. Corpses littered the once-tended fields, and he couldn't remember a time that he had seen so many dead in one place. Some were missing limbs while others were in contorted positions that one could never imagine the human body to be in.

Hall looked away from his glasses and looked at the sky above. "It will be our turn soon enough. If you wish to help us, I would gladly have you along. Every man will help take us closer to our objective." Without a further word he stood up, and began to order his men to get ready to move out. The soldiers looked tired and grudgingly left their protected spots from behind the hill to form into ranks.

"I know we've done our duty today," Hall shouted to his men. "But the rebels are still controlling that hill yonder. We pushed them off this hill and I know we will find the courage to do it again."

The men raised their muskets high in the air and gave their major a cheer. Hall gave a nod to the other officers, and the men began to march proudly down the hill. Once again, the regimental flag was held high, and the beat of the drum pounded through the air.

Ellsworth stayed on the ground, left behind, and watched the retreating back of the battalion.

"Are you coming with us?" Jack asked him. He saw that the captain's face was white with fear.

He answered slowly, his voice fighting for control. "When we fought on horseback against a few – it seemed like an honest fight. This is carnage! Carnage! I can't march into a slaughterhouse like that." His words were punctuated by the rumble of cannon.

"Don't worry," Jack said shortly. He looked away from the captain with disgust. He glanced across to Ezra, who nodded at him, anticipating any questions his friend might have had. He said to Ellsworth, "Stay here until I get back. Hall needs our help."

He nodded and buried his head in his hands. Jack knew it was one thing to be a coward, and another thing to show cowardice. He spat on the ground and ran with his partner to catch up to the battalion. They fell in behind the marching soldiers with Jack wishing he was somewhere else. His Colt rifle felt useless in his hands against the power of artillery. The line of soldiers marched past wounded men who pleaded painfully for help. A few men tried to take pity on the scores of hurt men lying in the fields, but they were soon pushed back into line by the ever-present sergeants.

The battalion did not appear to be noticed at first, so it was strangely peaceful in their part of the battlefield. But soon enough the rebel gunners had found a new target. A cannon ball thumped over the heads of the Union soldiers. The artillery fire then became heavier and bloody gashes began to rip into the marching line. The pace of the drummer increased in tempo as they reached the bottom of the hill held by the rebels.

Jack could hear Ezra swearing as the battalion began charging up the hill. The musket balls whistled in the air past them and broke into the ranks. Men fell and others limped along with minor wounds. The detective thought of his previous night of troubled sleep, and now he knew why his mind couldn't rest; it had been thinking of this. Ahead of the men, Hall was waving his sword and urging them forward. The stone wall loomed ahead. Jack could see a grim-faced line of rebels waiting for them.

With a final shout, the Union soldiers broke into a run and charged at the wall. Jack's heart pounded as he pushed Ezra down to the ground and fell down next to him. The rebels fired a massive volley of muskets which tore deeply at the battalion. A wail of agony broke the summer air as the wounded and dying collapsed to the ground. The bleeding men who could still stand began limping back down the hill, their expressions frozen with horror.

Raising his eyes, Jack saw Major Hall still standing, apparently untouched. He had reached the stone wall and stopped. Looking behind him, he could see that he was alone. He saluted the rebel soldiers and smartly turned before beginning a dignified retreat. His face was ashen, but he appeared unhurt by the volley that had broken his troops.

Ezra turned over and said shakily, "Damn them, Jack. Damn them." For they were surrounded by death and destruction - the blood was wet on the grass of the field and trickled slowly down the hill. The bodies of the dead were strewn chaotically around them, the corpses contorted with the final throes of pain.

Gaining his wits, Jack pulled Ezra up, and they began running down the hill. A few random shots peppered the ground around them. Major Hall and his men were gone, lost in the confusion. He could see many of the remaining soldiers all along the Union front began to walk off by ones and twos or in panicked groups. Several fear-stricken soldiers ran by Jack, carrying nothing but their canteens. Men were throwing away their rucksacks and rifles, retreating back towards Bull Run. Officers ordered the soldiers to return and form up, but the orders were ignored if they were even heard.

"This is looking bad," Jack shouted to his friend as they ran. "I think the whole army will soon break."

"Perhaps we should get going then," Ezra said, his voice ragged with exhaustion. He nervously rubbed his hand along the butt of the pistol. "Don't want to get trapped here and captured. Those rebels will be glad to sell me back to slavery if they did."

There was a sudden cry that could be heard behind them. It was the rebel troops crying an eerie wail as they charged down their hill. That was the final straw. The remaining Federal army wavered and then finally broke in a run. They fell back in chaotic panic, and men pushed each other out of the way as everyone ran for their lives. There wasn't any consideration for the wounded, just the chaos of retreat. Packs, guns, and canteens were left behind in a trail of debris.

"Let's hope no one has stolen our horses. I would think that Ellsworth would have had the sense to get out of here."

Ezra nodded and they began to head towards the woods where the horses had been hidden from sight. They passed a graying soldier who was walking aimlessly and sobbing. His teeth were black from tearing off the gunpowder cartridges, and tears cut a path down his ruddy skin. The few civilians nearby who had come to watch the battle, clambered back on their carriages and were desperately trying to leave through the press of soldiers. The chaos and noise spread as wholesale panic gripped the remaining army waiting in reserve. During this wretched retreat, the rebel artillery continued to fall heavily into the scattered remains of this once proud army.

Jack pushed past a group of retreating soldiers, and Ezra followed him into the woods. The trees on the outskirts had been splintered with shot, but deeper in they could see the horses were still tied and waiting. Above, cannon shot was scattering leaves and branches as the iron balls ripped through the branches of the forest.

Seeing Ellsworth's horse still there, Jack called out "Damn it, where are you man? It's time we leave this place."

There wasn't any response, so Jack was about to pull himself up on his mare when he saw that the captain's horse was untied. The horse's back and saddle were covered with blood. Looking at the ground, he saw a thin trail of blood that led deeper into the woods. Motioning for his partner to stay where he was, the detective took out his pistol and began following the splotches of red.

"Where are you going?" Ezra asked. He too had seen the blood on the saddle, but in his tone of voice, Jack could tell he preferred to leave now instead of rescuing any wayward captains.

"I'm going off to find the captain. Stay here and guard the horses. Shoot any bastards that try to take them from you." With those words, the detective disappeared into the dense undergrowth and followed the deer trail. He came to a small gully and saw the twisted body of Ellsworth. With much caution, he approached the body and saw it was a bloody mess. The tongue sickeningly lolled out. The corpse stared at him with the leer of death. The body had been roughly cut along the stomach with blood covering the entire front of the torn shirt. Flies swarmed heavily over the wound. With his foot, Jack rolled the body over and saw that the back of the head had been blown off.

He returned as quickly as he could. Ezra was standing there at the ready with his Colt Navy pistol out. "Any trouble?" Jack called out as he approached.

"Just a few soldiers wanting to discuss the use of our horses. I shot over their heads and sent them on their way."

"Good man. I'm afraid I found the captain."

"Where is he?"

Jack grabbed the bridle of his and Ellsworth's horse. "He's dead. Come on and I'll show you."

They led their horses through the plant-choked path to the gully. The atmosphere of the woods seemed unreal as they were deep in a grove of shaded trees being pummeled by artillery. They were surrounded by the sound of falling shells and screams of panic.

Ezra gasped as he saw the twisted body. "What happened to him?"

Jack replied, "He was murdered." He took a length of rope from his side saddle bag and pulled off the captain's bedroll. Together, they went to the body, leaving the horses behind. "By the blood on his saddle, it looks like the killer pulled the trigger at close range. He must have surprised Ellsworth. The captain would have died instantly from the wound in the back of his head."

"But why take him here?" Ezra asked. "It doesn't make any sense to drag a dead man all this way."

"The killer wasn't quite done yet." Jack turned the body over so it was facing up again.

Ezra had to quickly look away when he saw the gutted body. "I see. We're dealing with the case again."

"That's right. Now help me get the captain on his horse. Garrett will want to see this evidence. Let's hurry before the rebels start searching through the woods."

It was gruesome work as they pushed the corpse into the bedroll. They wrapped it tightly and bundled it with rope. Dragging it up the gully side to the waiting horses, they then lifted the body up with a grunt and folded it, stomach first, over Ellsworth's ride. Jack then tied the covered body to the saddle and then took the horse by the bridle. They started through the forest, away from the crash of the artillery, and towards the stone bridge over the Bull Run.

Breaking free of the forest, they saw that the bridge was choked with traffic as civilian and military wagons alike attempted to cross. Rebel cannon fire continued to fall into panicked dense mass of soldiers who were also trying to pass. Those on foot or horseback were using the fords around the bridge. Jack saw a carriage with a screaming woman surrounded by soldiers hanging desperately onto the sides. It was out of control and careened wildly into a ditch. There was also broken cannon rig on the side of the road and the team master was desperately trying to cut the horses free.

A group of soldiers began to crowd towards them, trying to grab at the bridles. Jack pulled out his pistol and shouted, "Any man who comes close will be shot!"

His warning was ignored, and the men ran towards him. Some still held their rifles, apparently unloaded since they were held like clubs. Ezra had drawn out his own Colt and fired into the ground before the men. The soldiers paused, giving the riders enough time to escape.

As they forded the stream, Jack looked behind him and saw that not all of the regiments of the Union army had crumbled. In the distance, a line of soldiers was still formed and were returning disciplined fire at the approaching rebels. This last line was allowing the fleeing troops to make it safely across the Bull Run and escape the rebel attack.

"I'll be happy to get home" Ezra announced as they left the chaos behind them. "I've had enough of this war for today."

Miss Keller's diary, resumed

July 21

Mister Blackwood has been gone for some time now. Things are different without him here. Mister Folks has also been busy, but when he is in the hotel we spend a lot of time together. Perhaps it is his grief that makes him act so openly toward me. It seems that these events have changed Mister Folks in many ways, and that I look at him differently as well.

I will be glad to see Jack again, especially after what we shared together. But I am not sure that it is anything I want to do with him again. I think it is just my vanity that wants to see him again - to know that I have some kind of power over him since I gave myself to him. Of course he is much older than me. He has probably known a lot of women in his life.

I wonder what kind of life Jack Blackwood leads. How often does he have work? What does he do for money if no one asks him for help? It must be a very uncertain sort of life but very exciting at times. I think he is a little foolish - look at how he was willing to join the Army, and possibly die, in order to find out who James's killer is. He must hold his own life at a strange value to be able to do that.

My thoughts have turned to Mister Blackwood again and again. Today there were the sounds of cannon in the distance. I almost wanted to go watch - there were some parties of people in the hotel who had gone to see the battle. It sounds so exciting and dangerous to be there but somewhat callous at the same time. To know that you can leave if you want to while the soldiers who are there have no choice but to follow their orders. The battle must have gone on for hours and hours. I could hear the sounds of it stopping and starting from time to time. To me, the cannon sounded like so much thunder.

I have a battle within my own heart about Jack. It bothers me to think about seeing him again, and what we will have to talk about. I keep going through conversations in my head that I could have with him when I see him next, and each possible one fills me with shame and distaste. I suppose the day will come eventually, and I will live through it all.
Chapter 24

As the night came, the sky started to grow cloudy. The falling rain only dispirited the fleeing mass of men even further. The rain was warm and wet, making the humidity thick in the air. The roads became a muddy mess, so Jack was happy to finally ride clear of the slow straggling lines of demoralized men headed back towards Washington.

They rode grimly on through the night and within a few hours came to the Long Bridge heading into the city. A thin line of soldiers were nervously guarding the bridge. They began immediately asking them questions of the rout. Apparently news of the disaster at Bull Run had already been telegraphed ahead. "Is it true that the Rebels are marching onto Washington?" one asked anxiously with a glance at the dead body of Ellsworth strapped to the horse.

Jack merely shrugged and replied, "There isn't much to stop them right now. But I reckon the Rebels are as tired as we are. Now let us pass, soldier."

The men stepped aside and watched them go. Their eyes were dark in the shadows of the lantern light.

"Do you think the city is in danger?" Ezra asked as he looked back at the demoralized soldiers pacing the bridge.

"I don't know. Either way it's not our worry. Right now we have to figure out who killed the captain here."

His partner sighed. The horses were so tired that it took some concentration to keep them going. The streets of Washington were deserted at this time of night, but lighted windows showed that the nervous population was desperately worried. A few called from their windows for news of the battle, but Jack and Ezra merely rode on without answering.

The City Watch was deserted except for a night guard who at once recognized the detective. He looked at the bound body with some distaste as Jack pulled it off the horse and let it drop roughly to the ground.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" the guard whined.

Jack took out a piece of paper and began scribbling out a short note. "Give this to Garrett in the morning. And I suggest you put this body somewhere the dogs won't get to it."

The guard nodded with a grimace as he took the note and began to drag the body by the feet into the building. Leaving him a single wave of his hand, Jack rode home with Ezra riding sleepily behind.

*

The detective slept in until he could sleep no further. The light from the window was gray, and he could hear the distant patter of rain against the panes of the window. He got up and pushed the curtains aside to look down to the street below. A few people ducked from building to building to stay out of the downpour while a group of children happily splashed in the dirty road. The sight of the children put a faint smile on his face. It was nice to see that something so normal. Yawning, Jack lit a cigarette and walked out of his room and into the kitchen.

Ezra had already prepared some coffee and was scrambling up some eggs in the skillet. He said, "I'm glad to see you are awake, Jack. It's nearly noon now. Breakfast is ready, and I'm hungry enough to eat all day. I didn't think I would ever sleep again after what we experienced yesterday."

Jack grunted and began to drink his coffee out of a chipped mug. He took a sip and said, "This tastes good - I forgot how bad army coffee can be."

His partner nodded and dished out some food for the both of them. They ate in silence, concentrating on the food in front. Jack paused only to refill their coffee and to light a cigarette. When he had finished, he leaned back into his chair and patted his stomach. "I thank you for the good meal, my friend. Well, we had better clean the place up before our guests arrive. I'll handle the dishes if you don't mind putting away our gear."

"Guests?" Ezra asked. "I thought only Garrett would be coming over in response to your note."

"I've asked him to bring Mister Folks and Miss Keller with him. There are some points of interest that we need to discuss, and it's better if they are here."

"Now that Ellsworth is dead, what can we discuss?"

"I'm not going to say anything more until they arrive." Jack left the kitchen, took the back stairs and was gone for an hour. On his way back, he brought up a bucket of water from the well outside. He then washed the dishes and put everything back in place. Ezra had gone to tidy up the office and change into some more suitable business attire.

While he was changing into a clean shirt, Jack heard a knock on the front door and the sound of his partner letting the visitors inside. He smiled to himself at the thought of seeing Anna again. He put on his best coat and brushed the dust off of his trousers. With one more glance in the mirror to check his hair, he went out to greet them. He noticed Anna first, for she was no longer wearing black, but was dressed in an expensive burgundy-colored dress. Her black hair was tied up high, and she wore a simple black velvet choker around her neck. She met his look with a shy glance and quickly returned to studying the rain splashing against the windows. Sitting next to her was Charles Folks, dressed in a tailored business suit. His lips were pursed tightly as he studied the office with obvious distaste.

Ezra was leaning against the wall and was conversing with Garrett in low tones.

The Captain of the Watch was standing by the window near the desk, looking out to the street below. In one of his hands there was a small cigar smoldering away. It seemed to be forgotten as he turned to greet Jack. "I got your message last night. As you requested I've brought along these two."

The detective bowed slightly to Anna and then went to sit behind his desk where he lit a cigarette. Studying their faces, he measured his words before saying, "I'm not sure what Henry here told you about Captain Ellsworth, but he was killed yesterday at Bull Run."

Folks raised an eyebrow and said, "Most dreadful, but I'm not sure why that is a concern of mine."

Jack looked pointedly back at him. "He was killed, Mister Folks, but not by enemy gunfire." He spoke slowly, as if he were a parent or teacher trying to teach a lesson. "For some time Ellsworth was our main suspect for the murder." He waited for someone to say something.

"Ellsworth certainly looked the part," Garrett finally commented.

"And his actions were enough to justify our suspicions." Ezra added.

Folks asked, "So now that Ellsworth is dead, you believe that death of my son has finally been avenged?"

"As Ezra pointed out, Mister Folks," Jack replied, "Ellsworth's actions were certainly suspicious. But that doesn't mean he was our man. As my partner here can attest, the captain we found the captain shot in the back of his skull and then dragged away from his horse into the bushes. That shot would have killed him instantly, but his killer then proceeded to hack away at the body with a sword." He noticed Anna biting her lip in discomfort. She truly was an innocent girl.

"So you think the killer is still out there?" Folks said with disappointment. "And what are your plans now?"

"I'm going to make sure he is brought to justice. That's why I invited you here." He stubbed out his cigarette and continued, fanning some of his smoke away. "The deaths of Wright, Quinn, and your son were not the result of some drunken soldierly brawl or from someone seeking revenge for some perceived wrong. They were the work of an unhinged individual who could only be satiated with the blood of those he thought guilty. Captain Ellsworth was killed because he knew too much and was a danger to this individual."

Garrett asked, "How can you be sure that the death of Ellsworth was not done at the hand of one of his own men? From what I heard he was not a popular fellow."

Ezra said, "I can answer that – the rest of the division was left behind at Centreville to guard the supply wagons. We saw no sign of them when we were at the battlefield as observers. We only left the captain behind when we proceeded onwards with Major Hall, who was given the task of charging the enemy."

"What Ezra said is true. The captain was afraid for his life and couldn't be persuaded to join us. I cannot blame him. The men of the division who were left at Centreville didn't have the chance to ride up in the lines, locate us in the chaos of the battle, and kill Ellsworth in that manner."

"Then who did?" Folks asked impatiently.

Anna brushed some fallen hair away from her eyes and patted Charles's hand as if to console him.

Jack noticed this but didn't say anything about it. He felt a pang of jealousy to see her touch someone else in that manner. He choked out, "All in good time, sir. My partner and I suspected Ellsworth from the start. It was easy to believe that such a man could be a brutal murderer. He was known to be a harsh disciplinarian, was unloved by his men, and had unsavory looks. He was a hard man for anyone to like. He was also deeply interested in this case from the start. He was appointed by Colonel Franklin to look into the first murder, and I do believe he gathered enough evidence to finally know who our killer is."

Garrett interrupted and said, "What kind of evidence?"

Jack could see that the Captain of the Watch was looking skeptical as ever. He replied, "When we followed Ellsworth the night that Wright was killed – he tried to escape down an alleyway that led into a dead end. When Ezra and I went down that alley, our quarry had disappeared. He had run into an apartment. When we entered it, there were some shots fired, and he managed to escape. Inside of that apartment there was a bookcase with items that could only have been taken from the murder scenes. At first I thought they were grotesque trophies of a sick mind, but then later I realized they were evidence collected by the captain as he investigated."

"And when did you realize this?" Folks asked.

"I would have sworn that Ellsworth killed Private Wright that very same night. But I was letting my anger and prejudices get the better of me." Jack could see his partner nod his head in agreement. He went on, "The timing would have been impossible for him to evade us and then kill Wright before we got there. And thanks to Henry here it was only after that realization that I believed Ellsworth was innocent. I was then determined to find out what he knew and protect him."

"Protect him? Why would he need protection?" the businessman asked with a bewildered stare.

"I believe Ellsworth knew all along who was doing the killings, but didn't have enough evidence to move forward with his accusations. He wanted us out of the way until he was sure he was on the right track. Too bad his actions seemed suspicious and only made us concentrate on him as our main suspect instead of looking for the real danger. When he was ordered on that dangerous mission to scout behind enemy lines, I volunteered to accompany him. I wanted to protect him from harm since he had no experience in proper cavalry tactics. I also wanted a chance to get him to open up to me and tell me what he knew. He almost did, but in the end he told us nothing."

Garrett lit a cigar and looked as if he was thinking of something far away.

Folks, on the other hand, looked displeased. He said, "Then you still don't know who did it?"

Jack shook his head. "I asked you to come here for a reason. I know the murderer is no other than Colonel Franklin."

Of the people in the room, only Anna looked surprised. Folks looked dumbfounded while Ezra raised his eyebrows as if waiting to hear more.

Garrett merely tapped the ashes of cigar and said, "And just how did you reach such a conclusion?"

Jack lit a cigarette and waved the match until the flame went out. "Who sent Ellsworth on that fruitless mission behind enemy lines? Who rode along with us to visit the battlefield and then promptly left? Who knew his own soldiers well enough to know of their whereabouts the nights they were killed? As they worked together day to day, Ellsworth and other officers provided Franklin with plenty of camp gossip. It was that information that the colonel used to select his victims."

"What information?" Folks asked.

"I can't pretend to understand Franklin's reasoning, but he picked men who were being unfaithful to their wives. As to why he did it, we had best ask him ourselves."

Garrett slowly nodded. He looked relieved, and said, "I do believe that Franklin should come in for some questioning. I had better go round up some of my men and ride over to the camp. His division should have returned by now."

"There's no need for you to go all that way, Henry," Jack said as he checked his beat-up pocket watch. "I sent him a message this morning for him to come visit me. And if I'm not mistaken, that's him coming up the stairs now." He then calmly pulled out his Starr from the drawer and put it on top of the desk. Everyone looked uncomfortable as the door opened and the man in question strode into the room.
Chapter 25

Franklin looked around the room as if taken aback by the number of people waiting inside. Seeing Anna, he took off his cavalry hat and bowed deeply. He then stood calmly at the door looking none the worse for wear after his experience at Bull Run. He stood proudly and said, "Mister Blackwood, your message did not indicate that others would be present."

Jack pushed his gun around on the desk with his forefinger. "You know Ezra, and you have already met Mister Garrett here. I'm sure you will also remember Mister Folks, but I believe you haven't had the pleasure of meeting Miss Keller. She was engaged to Lieutenant Folks."

"Pleased to meet you," the colonel replied and he bowed once again.

"Go ahead and take a seat," Jack said with mock politeness.

"I cannot stay long, so I prefer to stand. Your message mentioned something of Captain Ellsworth."

"Yes, just before you came over, we were busy discussing the captain."

"Good God, man, do you know where he is? Last I saw of him he was with you. After the general retreat, I feared that he was lost in the confusion. Some of my men are still trickling in, one by one, to the camp. I'm afraid the Rebels gave us all a good thrashing yesterday."

"I'm sorry to say that I do know where Ellsworth is. We left him with Henry here last night."

Garrett nodded and said, "He's in safe hands, Colonel. But I would like to ask you a few questions if I could. You see I wasn't too happy to come to work this morning and find a corpse waiting for me in my office."

Franklin looked around the room and finally said, "You mean Ellsworth is dead? Why didn't you tell me? How did it happen?"

"I think you know very well how it happened," Garrett snapped at him. "Now if you would accompany me back to the Watch, I would like to ask you some further questions."

Franklin took a step back towards the door. "I'm afraid I can't do that. There is so much more work I have to do."

The detective lifted his Starr up and pointed it at the colonel. "I suggest you stand very still and listen to Mister Garrett for a moment."

Blinking rapidly, Franklin stopped and stared at the gun. He said, "The last I saw Ellsworth, he was with you. Are you suggesting I killed him? How could I do that when I was back at Centreville?" He then looked nervously about the room, waiting to see if anyone believed him. He then spat out, "I know there was some animosity between the two of you – perhaps you killed him!"

Jack snorted and said, "I'm sure that you were there – hiding in the woods waiting for Ellsworth to return to his horse. Perhaps you even lured him there. I'm so sure of it that I would like to question some of your men who were waiting back at Centreville. When was it that you returned?"

Franklin's face turned white with anger. He then unexpectedly leapt forward and grabbed Anna by the back of the hair. He pulled hard, forcibly pulling her from the chair. Her body was now in front of the wavering pistol.

Jack did not fire in fear of hitting her. He said, "Now hold on right there. Leave that poor girl alone. She's been through enough, and anyways there is nowhere for you to go."

The colonel's own pistol was quickly drawn and he held it menacingly to her head while pulling back her hair with the other hand. He then started dragging Anna towards the door. She cried out and looked at Jack with wide, frightened eyes.

"Be quiet girl," Franklin said as he edged towards his escape.

Folks remained sitting in his chair, frozen in fear.

"Stop!" Garrett shouted. "As much as I don't want to see the girl harmed, I can't let you leave while I am here." His own pistol was drawn and his forefinger was taut against the trigger.

"Please, Henry," Jack said. "Just let him go for now. He'll be found soon enough."

"Yes, you had better listen to your friend," Franklin said roughly. "I would hate for you to shoot such a pretty girl." With those words he suddenly brought up his own gun and shot Garrett in the stomach, who immediately slumped against the wall, writhing in pain. Shoving the girl towards the detective, the colonel jumped towards the open door. As he leapt up from his sitting position in an attempt to get a shot off, Jack had to hold his fire once again in fear of hitting Anna. But it was too late. Franklin was already bounding down the stairs.

Going around the desk, he helped Anna stand. Jack saw that she was just shook up and not hurt. He held her up with one arm and looked to see how badly Garrett was wounded.

The Captain of the Watch was slumped against the wall, holding his side tightly with one hand. His pistol still hung loosely in his hand. "I'm getting too old for this," he grunted. "Back in the old days I could have shot him without hitting the girl."

"Don't say anything," Jack said.

"For my sake, you had better go get him, Jack. He'll be heading towards the rebel lines to escape."

"You may be right, but he won't make it. Ezra, go get the doctor for Henry – I'll be back soon."

His partner nodded, pulled his rifle from the gun rack, and quickly ran down the back steps.

Gritting his teeth, Jack ran down the front stairs with his Starr at the ready. He could hear the sound of a horse galloping away. When he pushed the front door open, he saw the retreating back of Franklin on horseback. It was raining. Since it was too long of a shot to take with his pistol, he decided instead to give chase. Garrett's horse, a fine roan, was tied up at the hitching post in front. Untying the horse, he yanked himself up on the saddle and began to give pursuit in the falling rain.

A group of soldiers were crossing the muddy road and scattered as they saw Jack gallop towards them. They shook their fists and shouted curses as he rode through them. Franklin was far ahead and took a turn to the right, the horse's hooves sliding dangerously in the thick mud.

Leaning forward, Jack spurred the roan on and came to the street where Franklin had turned. He slowed down and gently leaned in as they made the corner. It was a fine, responsive horse. This muddy street was crowded with slow-moving supply wagons. A ragged shout of anger came from ahead as the colonel weaved through the crowded lane of men and horses. Urging the mount forward, Jack rode up onto the boardwalk where the few pedestrians scattered as the horse galloped heavily along the wooden planks.

Franklin turned and panicked as he saw the detective close the gap. He began to shout for help and pointed behind himself as if he was being chased by a dangerous outlaw. A few soldiers dared the driving rain and tried to wave Jack down, but no man was brave enough to make a stand in front of a charging horse.

Jack was closing in. He pulled out his Starr and fired a shot at Franklin's mount. The shot went wild, but it was enough to make the nearby soldiers dive in the mud for cover. He pulled the trigger again. The second shot struck the horse in the rear hindquarters. The colonel pulled hard on the reins to force the horse to turn onto the next street, but the poor beast stumbled heavily and began to fall on its side. Pushing himself off, Franklin tumbled heavily into the mud and ended up lying face down in the street.

Jack thundered by and gently pulled on the bridle to slow Garrett's horse down to a trot. He then jumped off the mount and turned with his Starr at the ready. The colonel was pulling himself painfully off the ground. His hat was missing, and he was covered from head to foot with mud. A crowd of soldiers gathered to watch.

"Hold still there, Franklin, or I'll shoot you down!" Jack cried out as he aimed his pistol. He wanted to see the man hang for his crimes.

The colonel pointed at Jack with a finger and said, "This man here is trying to kill me. You there soldier, you had better stop him!" The soldiers recognized gold braid no matter how dirty, and five of them began to advance cautiously towards the detective. The others stood behind to watch, not sure what was going on. Franklin began to walk slowly back into the crowd to make his escape.

Without thinking, Jack took a step forward and said, "That man just murdered the Captain of the City Watch and is wanted for the death of four soldiers. Step aside!"

The coming soldiers looked confused and turned to receive further reassurances from Franklin, but he had already turned to run. Jack took off after him. A heavy hand tried to stop Jack, but he pushed it out of the way. The uncertain crowd parted for him. The colonel was moving as quickly as he could and looked over his shoulder in fear.

Jack pulled his Starr up and fired.

The shot struck Franklin in the shoulder. He spun heavily and grabbed the side of a wagon for support. He leaned heavily against the wheel, blood staining the arm of his blue jacket. Jack approached cautiously with his pistol at the ready. The colonel suddenly fell sideways into the mud and at the same time pulled his own pistol out. Three quick shots rang out.

The first one missed Jack and hit one of the watching soldiers, who fell to the ground gripping his arm. The second shot hit Jack. He felt the left side of his chest blossom with red-hot pain. He tried to twist away, but the third shot struck his left leg. He instantly crumpled to the ground. His Starr lay off to his right, stuck deep in the wet mud. Raising his head, he could see the colonel hold his bloodied shoulder. The colonel was walking towards him, the face alight with triumph.

Franklin stopped as he stood over Jack. "You must know that I'm a hard man to kill, Mister Blackwood. After all I am protected by God, and only he can decide when my time has come. I know what it takes to kill a man, but you can't kill an angel." His voice was harsh but in control. The soldiers in the background stood quiet as the wounded soldier groaned. They were not sure what to do, so they merely watched as the rain came down.

"Go to Hell," Jack spat out. Just speaking the words hurt his side. The world became momentarily blacker as he fought for consciousness.

"I shall never go to Hell, Mister Blackwood. It's sinners like you and those other bastards that will meet God's ultimate judgment. I'm merely His tool for cleaning this world of sin."

Jack coughed raggedly and edged his right hand towards his Starr. Perhaps he could reach it without the killer noticing. "Have you never heard of thou shall not kill?" he asked harshly.

Franklin laughed out loud, his face raised to the heavens. He suddenly kicked at Jack's hand before it could reach the pistol. "Mister Blackwood, please don't cause any more trouble. I'm afraid your time is up and you will have to be judged by a higher power." He pointed his Colt at Jack's head and slowly began to squeeze the trigger.

Jack shut his eyes and waited for the bullet to come. There was a sudden shot and he reflexively jerked his body, expecting the end. It was then he realized how distant the sound was. Opening his eyes, he saw Franklin slump over. Water poured into the colonel's unclosed dead eyes as he fell backwards into the street. The side of the head was opened with a ragged bullet wound that streamed blood into the mud.

Jack lifted his head up and saw Ezra running towards him. He was holding his rifle and had a worried expression.

"Are you alright?" his partner asked as he leaned over to examine Jack.

"That was a good shot, Ezra. How did you know he wouldn't accidentally squeeze the trigger after you shot him?"

"I didn't, but what other choice did I have?"

Jack started to laugh until he realized how much it hurt. "How did you know where I was?"

"After I got the doc, I got on my horse and took off to find you. I heard some shots and just followed the sound. When I got to the end of the street, I saw you shoot Franklin."

"And he feigned being hurt worse that he was. I should have been sure and gave him a few more bullets." He coughed roughly and felt the pain deepen in his side.

"Now hold still, Jack. I can't tell right now, but I don't think the bullet punctured your chest. It may just be a furrow along the ribs. On the other hand, that leg doesn't look so good. I had better get the doctor."

"First pull me out of this damn rain," Jack whispered weakly as the world grew black around him.
Chapter 26

Jack dreamed of deep red pain and the falling rain. He dreamed of being drowned in mud and blood. Voices were distant and different faces swam in front of him. Eventually the red haze turned to black, and he soon fell into a fitful sleep. He slept on until he awoke with a sour taste in his mouth. His left leg felt like it was fire while his lungs felt tight and confined. He tried to breathe deeply and felt as if he had to vomit from the pain. Getting the courage to open his eyes, it seemed liked he was being blinded with light until he realized that only a small sliver of sun was showing through the closed curtains.

"Ezra," he croaked. "Where are you?" He had to call out his friend's name several times until he heard footsteps approaching.

The door opened and Ezra came in looking relieved. "You decided to live after all."

"I feel weak as a kitten. What's the news?"

"It was a near thing, Jack. Doctor Rogers knocked you out with chloroform and had to do some surgery. He probed that leg of yours and pulled that bullet out. I thought you were going to bleed to death. Afterward I was warned to keep an eye on you until you got better. You've been asleep all night."

"I can't breathe," Jack whispered.

"Don't worry, the doctor says you were lucky that the bullet didn't go into your heart. You just have a broken rib, so he bandaged you up tight. You will be happy to know that Major Hall stopped by to see you. He made it back from the battle without being captured."

"That's good." Suddenly remembering what happened in the office, Jack asked, "What about Garrett? Did he make it?"

Ezra paused for a moment before replying. His face was grim as he said, "I wasn't supposed to say anything until you're feeling better, but I'm afraid Henry died."

The news struck the detective like a hammer blow, and he felt a wave of sickness. He shook his head, not believing his old friend was dead. "What happened?" he choked out.

"I got the doctor as you asked, but it was too late to do anything. The colonel shot him in the belly, and Henry just bled away before anything could be done. There wasn't much the doctor could do other than ease the pain. Now you're supposed to rest some more."

"One more thing before you go – what about Franklin?"

"You know how it is – the Army went and hushed it all up. There are no newspaper reports or anything of the kind. The witnesses to your gunfight were all ordered to keep quiet, and the colonel was shipped home this morning for burial. He'll be buried in his family plot with no stain on his character."

"What about Anna and Mister Folks? Are they still in Washington?"

"They waited to make sure you are still alive, but he's planning to go back to New York by train tonight."

"What about her?"

"I wouldn't know."

Jack nodded weakly and felt tired. He rubbed the sore side of his chest and said, "Ezra, I think I'll sleep for a while."

With a nod, his partner left, shutting the door behind him. Instead of sleeping, Jack thought about everything that had happened. If only he had told Garrett of his suspicions earlier than the old man would still be alive. He continued to think of his departed friend, and then his thoughts turned to Anna. Where was she? It would be nice to have her here right now, holding his hand as he lay there. He finally drifted back to sleep.

He awoke later feeling a gentle shake of the shoulder on his good side. Opening his eyes, he saw Ezra standing above him. Jack was feeling a bit better and was able to pull his head higher up on the pillow. "What is it?"

"Miss Keller is here to see you."

"She is?" Jack asked. His heart began to beat faster. He tried to lift himself off of the bed, but the pain was too much.

"I told her that you weren't feeling very good and you may not be ready to receive visitors. But since she is leaving soon, I decided to ask you if you wanted to see her."

"Leaving?" Jack felt crushed and half-wished that he had been killed. "What time is it?" he croaked.

"Just after five in the afternoon."

"How do I look?"

"Like hell," Ezra said with a laugh. "I'll tell her to go on in." With those words he left the bedroom to get her.

Anna came hesitantly into the dimly lit bedroom. She drew up the side chair and sat down. Jack looked her over and could see that she had been crying.

"H-h-how are you doing?" she stammered.

"I'll live," he replied glumly. "I'm surprised you made it over to see me before you left."

"How could I not after what passed between us?"

"Women have been known to do worse. Where is your Mister Folks now?"

"What do you mean?" she said with a quiet voice.

Jack could tell his comment had flustered her. He said, "Yesterday I saw the way you looked at him. I'm sorry. I was just hoping we would have some more time to spend together. I was thinking you would be willing to take a chance with me."

"I'm so sorry, Mister Blackwood. Charles said we must return to New York tomorrow. He says he has spent too much time here already and must get back as soon as he can."

"Just because he is going doesn't mean you can't stay here with me for a little while longer. You can stay at the hotel. I'll even pay for your room."

"Please, Jack, I can't do that. What would they say about me back in New York?"

"I don't give a damn about New York. I'm thinking about us."

She gripped Jack's right hand and leaned forward to put her forehead on his arm. "I truly wish I could stay with you, but my family needs me back in New York."

"Well, then why don't you come back to me after you see your family?"

She didn't answer but began to sob.

Jack could feel the wet tears against his arm. "It really is Charles isn't it?" he asked, his voice flat and empty.

She raised her head up and brushed away the tears. "I don't know what to say."

"It's an old story, my dear. A man's son dies and the daughter is there for the taking. You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

"I don't know," she said as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Charles told me he wants to leave his wife. He said he will divorce her in Europe, and then we can get married. He promised me we would be happy together."

"And you would rather marry a rich man than an old broken-down detective like me?" he asked roughly.

"It's not that at all, Jack." She gave his arm a squeeze and stood up to leave.

"Wait a moment – then what is it?"

She nervously bit her bottom lip before replying. "I've already lost my James. I was in a state of shock after his death. You were so kind to me, and I admit I did some foolish things with you. But I didn't know what I was doing. You must not think it meant anything to me at all."

Jack interrupted her and said, "But Charles offers you stability?" He felt sick in inside and wished she would just go away. "I'm feeling a little tired right now. Perhaps it would be better if you left now."

"Please don't be angry with me. When Ezra returned with you all hurt and bleeding, I got scared that I would lose someone I love. I can't have that happen again."

He said clumsily, "To love someone is to know that someday you will lose them. Nothing goes on forever." He felt like a silly fool for saying it, but it was true.

"I know, but I don't know what else to do."

"Just go and leave me be."

"But I haven't been able to thank you for all you have done for us." She had a sad smile on her face, and fought back tears.

"Tell your Mister Folks to send a check," Jack said harshly. He turned away and stared at the wall. He heard her stand up and hesitantly walk away. There was a murmur of voices as she spoke to Ezra, and then he finally heard the front door open and shut.

Ezra came in and said, "She's gone now, Jack."

He nodded and said, "Yes, she is."

###

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The Works of Paul Westwood:

**The Color of Sin:** Las Vegas. Devon Pierce lives a life of his own choosing, surviving by his wits and violent actions. For those in desperate need, he is the judge and executioner of last resort - above the law and incorruptible. Cleora Kinney, an exotic dancer, has been wronged and the Afghanistan treasure of her deceased father has been stolen. Only Devon can set things right. But first he must follow the clues found hidden deep in the shadowy underworld of the city of sin.

**Grave Injustice:** It had been in the Warren family for years: the ancestral home deep in the South. After the death of James's reclusive uncle, the house is now his to sell. But James is haunted by a childhood memory of a ghostly horror of a deceased young girl. With the help of his wife Beth, who is a law student, the young couple must solve a murder from the Civil War and lay to rest the spirit that still haunts the grounds. But the danger is not only in the past, but will come crashing into the present. Their lives and fortunes will be forever changed.

**Nano Zombie** : Not all zombies are undead. Brent is a man who lives in the near future, a crumbling civilization where man feeds upon man. Escaping from the chaos of the city, he is suddenly thrust into an unspeakable nightmare of sickness and war. In a world of apocalyptic horror, he battles for those he loves, an orphan girl and a woman with a mysterious past. In the desolated countryside, Brent fights to stay alive and find a cure to the most terrible disease that humanity has ever seen.

**Nano Zombie Redemption** : This exciting sequel to Nano Zombie has Emily battling to stay alive in a dying world. Now that her adopted father, Brent, is gone she must learn how to survive on her own. Food has run out and the Infecteds rule the dust-filled wasteland. With danger at every turn, she, along with her companions, try to find a way to finally defeat the zombie hordes. The horrific journey will test their bonds of friendship and even love.

**Horror America** : Move over Sherlock Holmes! When the supernatural game's afoot, helpless people call on the good Dr. Townsend to save them. Ghosts, the undead, werewolves, and more horrors that man was not meant to see are loose in 1870s America, so it's up to Captain Parker, a gunslinger for hire, and Dr. Townsend to stop the horror. Yet when Townsend's beautiful daughter falls under the spell of a mysterious suitor, their fortitude will be tested in a battle like no other. Written in a series of connected short stories narrated by Parker, this novel will keep you turning pages late into the night.

**Lonely Are The Dead** : 1977. A ruthless serial-killer is stalking Bay City. His purpose is unknown, but the dismembered victims are always young and beautiful. In order to find the perpetrator, Police Detective Markus has to set aside his personal troubles, and pull the evidence together before panic sweeps the city. His only ally is Karen Dekker, a reporter with a tortured past and the chance to break the biggest story of her career.

**The Cursed Sun** : Two centuries after the Final War, civilization struggles to rise from the radioactive ashes of the new Dark Age. An innocent man turned outlaw is forced on a journey across a desolated landscape, risking his life to deliver a warning to the growing rebellion. The message he carries will change the balance of power, and with it, the hopes of humanity.

**Murder at Zero Hour:** William Grant, an American, joins the British Army during the Great War. He is posted to France, where he witnesses the horrors of war on the front line. During a dangerous night patrol, a captain is murdered, leading to a series of unanswered questions. With only his wits, Grant must solve the mystery while keeping his own skin intact. Will he be a victim of war or just another victim?

**At Harper's Ferry** : The book that started it all. Jack Blackwood is a lonely drunk who starts a detective agency in the heart of Washington DC. As Fort Sumter is attacked, he and his partner Ezra are embroiled in a case that could change the very course of the war: the son of a retired congressman has gone missing, along with military papers outlining the Union's Anaconda Plan. At the heart of the matter is a beautiful prostitute, a trail of dead men, and a spy who will stop at nothing to deliver the plans to the Confederacy.

**At Bull Run** : The second book in the Blackwood Series. A wealthy man hires Jack Blackwood to find the murderer of his only son, who had recently joined a newly-formed Union cavalry regiment. In a city crowded with temptation, the investigation uncovers a killer who is targeting prostitutes and soldiers alike, causing panic in the ranks. Only Jack's wits and the power of the Colt can put a stop to the killings.

**At Shiloh** : The third book in the Blackwood series. As Grant's Army marches through Tennessee, it is beset by guerilla fighters led by the traitorous Major Gardner. An invaluable shipment of gold is stolen from the Union and must be retrieved at all costs. Posing as a guntrader, Jack must not only complete this impossible mission, but survive the perils of battle and the amorous advances of a widow trapped in an unfriendly town.

**The Blackwood Trilogy** : Jack Blackwood is a widower and a drunk. Ezra Miller is an ex-slave in a white man's world. Together, they run a detective agency in Washington DC. As the Civil War rages, they are involved in a series of cases that will change the very course of the war. This anthology collects all three adventures – At Harper's Ferry, At Bull Run, and At Shiloh - at one low price.

Free Bonus Chapter of The Color of Sin:

It was supposed to have been a nice and quiet evening at home. My current home being the an old warehouse that I had personally converted into apartments. I, of course, had kept the entire top floor and left the space underneath empty so I wouldn't be bothered by the worst impulses of humanity: noise. The other units brought in a tidy income though I purposefully kept the rents low enough to keep out the neuvo-rich. Instead, the building was populated with artists, workers, and a mish-mash of hustlers and conmen. They were the type of people who kept to themselves and weren't always asking questions about the landlord above. Instead they were quite happy to get entrance to such a secure building at an affordable price. And considering the area we lived in, D Street Avenue in Las Vegas, a little safety went a long way.

I was sitting on the sofa with my legs up on the footrest and half a Gimlet at my elbow. On my lap was a tablet. I was scrolling through a map app, trying to find the best way to drive out of this town. July was coming, which meant the hottest part of the year. A vacation was due, and I was entertaining the thought of taking my car on an extended tour of Oregon. I really didn't want to leave - I liked this town - but I was overcome with a feeling of restlessness. I had been bored as of late, which often happens in my line of work.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the graceful movement of Melodie Glass, who was working on some new dance moves. She had come over for the privacy and the fact that I had a large space to practice in. The massive JE Labs speakers and Mark Levinson electronics were an additional bonus. The high-reved pop music sounded dismal to my ears, but she seemed to enjoy the fidelity as she stretched and contorted her dancer's body into moves that only can be done by top-level gymnasts or professional strippers. She was the latter sort.

Melodie was pale with long black hair, smooth skin, and a face that revealed an Asian ancestor. She was skinny but well-endowed on top – work done by a good plastic surgeon – and had the well-muscled legs of someone who moved all day for a living. She was wearing a faded black leotard with red legwarmers. Her hair was pulled back and kept in place with a hair clip. Though taller than your average woman, she was still a few inches shorter than myself.

She was working her body hard. If I had installed a stripper pole, I'm sure she would have been sweating even harder. But instead, she was practicing her floor routine, the gyrations meant to keep the dollar bills coming. With the stiff competition in Vegas, the men and women who made their living at exotic dancing, Melodie made sure to stay in shape and keep her dances fresh. Even with the air conditioning running at full blast, there was a slight odor of perspiration. From the track lighting above I could see a gleam of sweat on her exposed skin.

I put the tablet down and took a sip of my drink. Lime juice mixed with gin had a wonderful way of sharpening the senses. As I drank, I saw Melodie stop. She went over to the CD player and turned off the power, sending a momentary thump through the speakers. I frowned, knowing that something serious was on her mind.

"Devon?"

"Yes?" I replied as I set my drink back down.

She took a step closer. "Is it true what people say about you?"

"What do people say?"

"That you help people in need."

"I don't think I've ever been called charitable."

"You know what I mean."

I gave her a half of a smile. "Yes, it's true that I help those who can't help themselves. Of course there has to be some profit in it." I vaguely pointed at the luxury furnishings and the expensive rug at our feet. "This sort of stuff doesn't come cheap. I am, after not, not running a charity here. But there are some rules to the game. The first, of course, is that I won't go killing for money. The second is that I won't harm the innocent, though the latter is questionable since I have never met anyone who is truly innocent."

"You're the most cynical man I've ever met," she purred.

"I prefer the word experienced. But I did not earn my money by doing anything that is unethical – within the confines of what I consider ethical, that is."

She leered at me. "That leaves a wide range of possibilities, honey." She instantly turned serious again. "Maybe you really could help a friend of mine. Her name is Cleora Kinney. She's a co-worker of mine at the Pussycat Lounge. She's only been there a few days and anyone can tell that she isn't cut out for the life. But I do know that she needs help and I can't think of anyone but you."

I scratched my chin in thought. After a few moments of this, I said, "I wasn't exactly planning to be in town for very much longer. Anyway, I'm not hurting for money right now."

"This is something interesting."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the bait.

"Last night, after our shift was done, we got to drinking and talking. After a few beers she opened up and told me everything. We're talking a lot of money here."

"A few thousand dollars? A hundred thousand?"

"Maybe it would be better if you would talk to her yourself. I would hate to tell you the wrong thing and have you turn down the job. She can explain it better than I can."

"Now you've got me interested."

She closed the space between us with a few sultry steps – all hips and doe-like eyes. It was a good performance that got my heart racing, even though I knew the act was as false as a street bought Rolex.

She said, "That's the point, honey. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"What?"

She reached over and ran a hand through my hair. "Don't worry, you'll like her. Everyone does." She then sauntered off, showing her backside to good effect. She went back to the stereo, turned the CD back on, and began to dance to the rhythm of the music.

I returned my attention to the Gimlet. I took a drink and tasted nothing. I was too busy being angry with Melodie to notice the flavor. I put the glass down and tried to return my attention to the map on the tablet. But the route I had chosen instead blurred and disappeared from my vision. Instead I busily thought of the possibilities: a changed will that left the poor girl out of a sizable estate, a drug dealing boyfriend, or some stolen merchandise that she knew about. Dancers like that were always making friends with rich men who wanted to share their wealth. What could be different with this woman?

The door buzzer went off. It was just barely audible over the thump of the music. I got up off the sofa, threw Melodie a nasty smile, and went to unlock the steel reinforced door. After that, it was a walk to the elevator that I had specially modified so that it took a code to access my two floors. As an extra precaution, the door leading to the staircase was locked with thick doors at the floor levels. With the wired alarm system I had installed myself, no one could get inside without me knowing. In case I was out of the building, I had a computer setup to send an email to my cellphone. This may all sound rather paranoid, but when you do my type of work, a little caution goes a long way.

The door to the elevator opened. I got inside, selected the ground floor, and waited impatiently as I was taken slowly down. In the entryway, I saw a young blonde waiting behind the door. The glass of this entryway was reinforced with chicken wire. The wood was thick and old, an original part of the warehouse. With a flourish, I opened the door and let her in.

"I'm Cleora," she said as she offered her hand.

"Devon Pierce," I replied. We shook. "Come right this way."

In silence, we rode up in the elevator. There I studied her. In profile she looked good. With small features, she looked more like a teenager than a woman who works the stage for a living. Her nose was straight and the color of her eyebrows matched the color of her blonde hair. She had honest to goodness freckles, blue eyes, and a page boy haircut. She was wearing a shapeless top and a black skirt that went down to the knees. Long white socks and tennis shoes added to the school girl effect. The calves had the muscled tone of a dancer. I could see why men would like her, but there was also a coldness there that would be hard to penetrate.

"Come right this way," I said as I opened the door to my apartment.

She went in and let out a gasp. It's a common enough reaction when new visitors see the wood floors, plush rugs, the paintings on the brick wall, the gleaming stereo, and the Herman Miller furniture. The entire effect was that of stylish modernity and was a far cry from the ghetto streets a few stories below us. This was my hideaway from the world and only trusted souls were allowed into the inner sanctum. Part of my annoyance with Melodie was giving access to her friend without my permission. But if you can't trust your friends, than who can you trust?

"Are you a drug dealer?" Cleora asked.

Seeing the arrival of her friend, Melodie stopped the CD player. I noticed that this time she had done it correctly by using the buttons. She said, "No, and he's not part of the mob either. He's just a rich bastard."

I could see that this answer did nothing to clear up the confusion. I added, "I'm not that rich. But I do like to live comfortably. As for my income, I consider myself as a sort of an investor. This building, for example, used to be a warehouse. I provided apartments for the people of this neighborhood and in the process built a place for myself that I found comfortable. I also have other interests that meet my financial needs."

"But why this neighborhood? You could be living big in Summerlin." That was a more swank part of town.

Melodie answered, "Devon here isn't like other people. He likes to associate with conmen, junkies, and strippers. He thinks normal people are boring."

I nodded. "And their lives are rather boring without the sort of problems I find interesting. Perhaps I could help you."

Melodie said, "Cleora, why don't you tell Devon here all about your problem. I'll go shower and change." With those words, she went down the hallway and went into the bathroom. The sound of running water was immediately heard.

It was obvious that Cleora was feeling uncertain, so I went over to the bar and fixed her a drink. While I was pouring out the vodka, she sat down at the stool and waited until I was done. She gratefully accepted the screwdriver, taking a tentative sip.

She said, "I don't feel right being here. I mean what can anyone do for me?"

"I don't know anything about your situation so I can't possibly answer your question. But we could start at the beginning."

Cleora gave me a shy look, an honest to goodness inside view at the real woman underneath the veneer of the armor she must have developed in her line of work. I could see why Melodie said that this girl was not cut out for the job as an exotic dancer.

She finally said, "Okay, but this is going to sound a little crazy."

"Try me."

"My real name is Amy. Cleora is my professional name – everyone uses it except my sister. You see I was an army brat. That meant I never had a real home. Instead my family traveled from base to base. Five years ago, when I was eighteen, I got pregnant. This happened over in Henderson."

This was a suburb that southwest of Las Vegas.

"We were living in a little ranch home in a neighborhood Luckily my old man was off on his first tour in Afghanistan when I found out I was going to have a child or else there would have been hell to pay. The father of the baby was a boy named Timothy King who was an awkward kid I went to school with. There was nothing ever serious about us, instead we were just friends who liked to fool around. I don't know where he is now. I really don't care. So I had a little girl. She's named Madison. She's the only reason I came to you. I want her to go to college. I want her to have the things that I never had."

I nodded and didn't say anything. Now that she was on a roll there was no stopping her now.

"My father Bill Kinney was a captain in the Special Forces, doing some type of work for the government. It was all hush-hush, you know, top secret. We were never rich, that's for sure. But somehow when he was sent over to Afghanistan, he must have discovered some way to make money. I don't know what it was or how he got it back to the States, but that's not important. I know it had to be illegal, whatever he did. I mean they don't hand out free cash to soldiers, do they? But he was a hard man who thought he was the toughest thing on the planet. The older he got, the more he had to prove himself. A week after he returned from his final combat tour, he went out to the bar. He got into a fight with a younger man - some tough college football player. It must have been a lucky punch, because apparently my father just folded up like a house of cards when he got hit in the side of the head. He never regained consciousness. He died two days later."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She gave a shrug. "That was two years ago. I wasn't that sad at the time. And I'm not exactly grieving now."

"How did you find out about the money?"

"When Bill came back, he couldn't keep it a secret. He told my mother and my sister Kim and I that we were going to be rich soon. He also told us that we couldn't tell a soul. He made us promise."

I pursed my lips together. "Did your father tell you the source of this new found wealth?"

She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. "I thought he was making it up. Not that he was the sort of person to lie, but he came back from the war a changed man. He was a drunk.. He was abusive toward my mother. He threatened my little girl. I thought he was telling us lies about the money to keep us happy."

I was skeptical now. "What made you change your mind? I mean one day you don't believe him and the next you're suddenly sure that there is a fortune just waiting for you."

"I'm getting there. Eight months ago a man named Keith Miller came to the door. He ended up staying with us. He claimed to have known my father over in Afghanistan; that they had served together in the Green Berets. He was just out of the army and looking for a job. My mother let him stay with us until he could get back on his feet. I wish she had thrown the bum out on his ass."

The sudden venom caught me by surprise. But before I could say anything, she continued on, her jaw tight and unyielding.

"Keith said he knew my father well. He said they had spent two tours together. He had no family and nowhere to go. At first he seemed so kind. He was good with his hands and really helped around the house. After a few weeks, he even got a job as a bouncer at the club I worked at in Henderson. He isn't a big guy but he's got muscle. I've seen him fight and toss out some real tough guys. I admit that it felt good to have someone strong around. He seemed to like me and my daughter quite a lot. And with my mother sick with lung cancer, my sister and I really needed him.

"In the end I fell in love with Keith. We might as well have been married, that's how close he was to me. He seemed to be a good man. And when mother died, Kim quit job as receptionist so she could take care of her two sons from a former marriage and my daughter. It was up to Keith and I to bring in the money. Things were tight and I was glad for all the help I could get from him. But there was some strange quirk about Keith that became quite bothersome. You see he loved to talk about my father. I thought he was just waxing nostalgic about an old comrade, wanting to know Bill's habits: where he liked to visit, or where my dad hunted, or what kind of work he had done around the house. Keith also took a real keen interest in gardening and found some excuse to dig up most of the yard. I didn't pay any attention to this until the day that he left."

"It sounds like he was looking for something," I commented dryly.

She took the final sip from her glass. The ice cubes were all melted. I also noticed that the water in the bathroom was off and Melodie hadn't come out yet.

"Whatever it was, he found it," she said. "One day I awoke and Keith was gone. He only took his personal stuff and never showed up at work. This two months ago. To be honest, I wasn't all that surprised. I knew that he wasn't that good for me. But there was one strange thing that really got me shook up. In the back of that house was a patio that wasn't much larger than one of your rugs. It was made with old flagstones. One of them had been removed. Underneath was a hole that contained a scrap of canvas that was olive green. I can tell you that it didn't take too many leaps of the imagination to put the pieces together. Something, perhaps that money my father talked so much about, had been hidden there.

"I was angry as hell. I thought I would never see Keith again. I had to quit my job at Henderson and come to Vegas to get a better paying job. But just last week, after I had gotten out my shift at my new job at the Pussycat Lounge, I was driving home. I saw him outside of the Sands casino, pulling some breezy redhead out of a new Lexus with temporary tags. She looked high maintenance and much too rich for a man like him. Before I could find a parking spot, the two of them disappeared inside. I searched around the casino but didn't see them. I ended up camping in the lobby. It was an hour later when he came out with that woman. Like a fool, I ran after him, demanding all sorts of explanations. He practically ran away, dragging that bitch with him. They hopped into that car and took off. I ran to my car and started following them. Two blocks later, he dropped her off at the entrance of a ritzy condo called Eastgate. After that, I lost him in the traffic. I think he knew that I was following him."

"And you think he found the money that your father hid? Perhaps he just shacked up with a new woman."

Cleora actually blushed. "I can tell you that Keith isn't the type who can a snooty woman fall for him. He's different – uneducated and good with his hands. He's no gigolo."

I let out a small sigh of exasperation. "It's a general observation of mine that woman of all classes aren't particular when it comes to a man's background. If they like what they see, then they'll try and get him."

"You don't know Keith. He's a brute. And I'm not just saying that out of hatred. He can be tender and even sweet, but there's an anger inside of him that is downright scary. I have the scars to prove it. No woman in her right mind would be with him long. As I said, I was glad when he was gone. I also got scared that he would come after me, once there weren't any witnesses around. He can be cruel if he think he's been wronged. I'm glad that I left Henderson."

"You no longer live with your sister?"

"No, I share an apartment with one of the girls from the Pussycat. It's easier that way. I send my extra money back to my sister, who is busy taking care of my daughter, and visit them on the weekends."

"Would you like another drink?"

She shook her head. "No thanks. So will you take on my case?"

"I'm not a private detective. Let me give it some thought and I'll get back to you."

Cleora dragged a cellphone out from the heavy purse that was still slung over her shoulder. "Would you like my number?"

"That won't be necessary at this time. I'll contact you through Melodie."

After that, I walked her down to the front entrance. I waited until she got into her car – a beat up Kia – and drove away. Deep in thought, I went back to the apartment. Once the door shut, I could hear the Melodie humming some unknown song. The sound was coming from the bedroom. I went there, walking gently on the sides of my feet.

"Hey," I said through the half-open door.

"Why don't you come in?" Her voice was low and filled with desire.

I took a few steps inside. With the gauze curtains across the windows, the room was dim. I could just see the Stickley bed and matching side tables with their Tiffany lamps. Lying on top of the bed was Melodie. She wasn't wearing anything at all except for a smirk. The look suited her quite well. She was propped up on a pair of pillows, her long black and wet hair leaving a dark stain on the cotton. There was no extra fat on this specimen, only toned but shapely muscles that only accentuated her natural curves. She wasn't shy about me looking either, but we had our fling in the past so there was nothing new that Melodie could share with me.

"So what do you think of my new friend?" she asked. She said the words casually as if we were talking on a street corner.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I like her. It appears that Cleora has led a tough life. But she still managed to find her way through. That proves she's got her head on right."

"I like her too. So will you help her out?"

"I've got to think about it. There is a lot I need to know before I can even began to find out what was stolen from her."

"So do think really think that this Keith character did find something that her father buried in the backyard?"

"It seems plausible. Bill Kinney served in Afghanistan. To me that means poppies, opium, and heroin. With all the supplies being ferried back and forth, it wouldn't be that hard to smuggle some drugs into the country. You know as well as I do that it is a quick and dirty way to make some money."

Before I could react, Melodie grabbed my arm. I did not resist as he pulled me closer, guiding my hand to one of her perfectly formed breasts. That plastic surgeon really was a genius. But before my fingers touched the ruby hardness of her nipple, pulled back, easily breaking her grip.

"Damn it, Devon," she said sourly.

I rubbed my chin and stared into her dark eyes. "You know as well as I do, Melodie, that the game is over between you and I. Anyway, I thought you had a new boyfriend."

"I do," she said nastily as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Hold on, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"It's too damn late," Melodie spat out. She ran out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she slammed the door with enough force to make the internal walls shake. She was a strong girl.

I went back to the living room. There I began to paw through some records that were tucked inside a bookcase. I found a Handel record. I went over to the Goldmund turntable, turned it on and, after turning a few knobs, had some glorious baroque music pouring elegantly out of the speakers. I stood in front of the stereo and listened intently, trying not to think of what could have happened in that bedroom. Don't get me wrong, I liked Melodie quite a bit and felt like a fool for turning her down, but I also did not want to rekindle that old flame. Before we had broken up, things had gotten complicated. I was happy to be friends with her and didn't want anything more than that – or so I told myself.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, Melodie was dressed in her street clothes: a miniskirt, a red sleeveless top, and a pair of high heels. Her damp hair was twisted into two long braids. A plastic grocery bag containing her workout clothes were in hand. She looked shyly at me, unable to meet my eyes. This was so unlike her that I felt a moment of pity.

"A fight with Angelo?" This was Melodie's boyfriend, a small-time hustler who I personally disliked. Of course I generally didn't cotton to anyone who sold cocaine.

She nodded. "It was a bad one. I was just trying to prove something to myself. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem."

"I wish things had worked out between us. If they did, I wouldn't be stuck with Angelo. He can be such a bastard sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow. "So can I. Things weren't always smooth sailing between the two of us."

She frowned, her eyes misted with tears. "Angelo is my Keith. They both take advantage of women who are in need. But I can't help myself. That's why I feel so strongly about Cleora. You have to do something for her."

"I'll have to think about it," I said. "Come on, let's get you home."

I escorted her down to her car, a new Mini Cooper. A chaste kiss on the cheek and I sent her on her way. I watched the taillights recede into the maze of traffic. I could already feel the heat of the day slowly start to give away to the chill of the desert night. It would take hours of time but it was inevitable. Around me were the sounds of civilization: people talking, the thud of a car door shutting, and the low rumble of an airplane flying overhead. But I was far away from all of that. Instead I was thinking that I needed some time and space to forget. And only then could I make a decision.

