My Favorite Thief by Karyn Monk

there, she sensed that something about the chamber bothered him. He stood almost frozen, waiting. And then it occurred to Charlotte that he was not merely looking.
    He was listening.
    Please God,
she prayed fervently, wondering what she would do when he looked beneath the tent of artfully draped blankets the girls had arranged over the bed.
Please make him turn around and come out.
    Instead, Lewis moved toward the bed, slowly, like a cat inching its way toward a wounded bird. He studied the pillow a moment, assessing the size of the hollow pressed into its feathery depths, and looking to see if there were any hairs against its pale linen other than Ruby’s brilliant red ones.
    They had underestimated him, Charlotte realized, feeling as if she was going to be sick. Constable Wilkins might have been easy to fool or distract, but the inspector’s instincts were far more keenly honed. Something was suspicious to him, whether it was a scent in the air, some barely visible thread or hair upon the carpet or linens, or the all but imperceptible pulse of the Dark Shadow’s breathing.
    Lewis grasped the edge of the blankets suddenly and whipped them up.
    And looked in stunned surprise at the emptiness beneath the bedstead.
    â€œI told you he ain’t here,” Ruby said.
    He glared around the room, angry now, convinced that he had been deceived. He strode to the wardrobe and threw the doors open. There was nothing inside but a couple of shabby gowns and an old pair of boots.
    â€œI didn’t find anything in the boy’s room,” Constable Wilkins reported as he entered. “Do you want me to look in the—”
    â€œSilence!” Lewis commanded.
    The sound of a carriage door slamming shut caught his attention. By the time he crossed the room and leaned out of the small window, the vehicle was already speeding away.
    â€œStop!” he shouted. “Come back!”
    The carriage rounded a corner and disappeared.
    Cursing, he ran from the room and down the stairs, with a startled Constable Wilkins at his heels. As they reached the landing for the second floor they nearly collided with Oliver, who was shuffling up bearing an enormous tea tray.
    â€œHere now, lads, what’s amiss?”
    â€œGet out of my way, you old fool!” Lewis snapped. “I’m after the Dark Shadow!”
    â€œAre ye now?” Oliver marveled, suitably impressed. “Funny, I didna see him—but nae matter, let me help ye with the door.” He turned with his tray and began to slowly trudge down the stairs, still obstructing their path.
    â€œI don’t need your help with the bloody door!”
    â€œAll right, then, lad, nae need to get cross,” Oliver scolded. “I’m nae so spry as I used to be, an’ when ye get to be my age ye’ll find ’tis nae easy for you, either.”
    Lewis barely heard him as he heaved open the front door and burst out onto the street.
    â€œWhere was he going?” he demanded, seeing a woman standing outside gazing forlornly after the carriage. “Did you hear what directions he gave the driver?”
    â€œHe’s off to the Rose an’ Crown most like, or maybe the Rats’ Castle in St. Giles—an’ when ye find him, I want ye to tell him I hope he rots in hell!” Annie’s battered face was trembling with rage. “Just look what he did to me—he ain’t nothin’ but a filthy brute, an’ I’ll be glad when ye arrest him for beatin’ on women!”
    Lewis looked at her in confusion. “He beat you?”
    â€œHe’ll tell you I was askin’ for it—well, I’m tellin’ you I didn’t ask for it, an’ while I may live with him now an’ again I ain’t his wife, an’ now that I’m stayin’ with Miss Kent he ain’t got no right to baste me an’ I want him charged with attempted murder!”
    â€œYou live with the Dark Shadow?”