she motioned him toward the bedroom where he’d visited Felicity the previous day. He knocked on the door and waited for a response.
“Come in.”
Entering the room, he saw that Felicity was propped up by a number of fluffy pillows on the bed. A bright red scarf covered her shorn locks, but there was no hiding her swollen, bruised face.
“Good morning, miss.” He left the door ajar behind him.
“Morning.” She winced, as if it hurt to move her lips even a little.
Jared pulled a chair from against the wall and set it near the bed. Not too close. He didn’t want to make her feel threatened. “Thanks for letting me come back. I know it isn’t easy to talk about what happened. I can see you’re still scared. But there might be something you know that will help me find the man who hurt you. Some small detail you don’t even think is important. I want to find him. I want to make sure he isn’t able to do this to another woman ever again.”
Felicity swallowed and turned her head toward the window, where morning sunshine spilled through the curtains. “I was on my way home last week. It was late . . . and the night was dark.”
It was difficult to wait for her to tell the story in her own way, at her own pace, but somehow Jared kept silent.
“He came up . . . behind me. Suddenly. I had . . . I had no warning. He put his hand over my mouth . . . and then . . . then he dragged me into an old shed. There was . . . there was a lantern . . . but it didn’t shed much light. I fought him. I fought as hard as I could . . . but it was no use. Then he . . . he—” She broke off, unable to speak the unspeakable.
Jared understood without the words.
The room fell silent except for the ticking of a clock on a table against the opposite wall. It was a silence filled with pain. Jared wished he could touch her hand, offer her comfort, but such a gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. Not in her fragile state. Not with the assault so fresh in her mind.
At long last Felicity drew a ragged breath and continued. “He talked. He talked all the time. And . . . and when he was . . . done, he beat me and . . . and cut off my hair. I asked him why . . . but he only laughed.” She shuddered. “I thought . . . I thought he meant to kill me.”
Sometimes this man killed his victims. Sometimes he let them live. Either way, he destroyed lives. The need for revenge coiled in Jared’s gut, hot and furious.
Felicity met his gaze with her one good eye. “He thought I would die . . . before I was found. Didn’t he? He thought I would die or he would have . . . made certain—” She stopped, and something about her expression altered.
Alert, Jared leaned forward on the chair. “What is it? What are you thinking?”
“I remembered something. He . . . he said he was going to be . . . the next king of the Comstock.”
King of the Comstock? Comstock. The silver mines. Virginia City. Virginia City, Nevada.
At last. A real clue. At last he was back on the killer’s trail. The man he’d sought for six years was headed to Nevada. And that was where Jared was headed too.
Silver Matlock, Bob Cassidy, and Matt Carlton be hanged.
Silver poured water from the pitcher into a porcelain bowl on the table beside the bureau. After washing the best she could, she dried off with a towel and donned her clothes. Then she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. There were gray smudges beneath her eyes, evidence of another sleepless night, and she looked unusually pale. She pinched her cheeks, trying to bring some color into them. It wouldn’t do to have Mr. Newman think she was ill. He was looking for any excuse to be rid of her.
A sharp rap on the door caused her to start.
“Are you up, Miss Matlock?” Jared asked from the hallway.
“Yes.” She hurried across the room to open the door. “I’m up.”
He looked at her, his expression dour. “Meet me out front in five minutes. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Did you
“Come in.”
Entering the room, he saw that Felicity was propped up by a number of fluffy pillows on the bed. A bright red scarf covered her shorn locks, but there was no hiding her swollen, bruised face.
“Good morning, miss.” He left the door ajar behind him.
“Morning.” She winced, as if it hurt to move her lips even a little.
Jared pulled a chair from against the wall and set it near the bed. Not too close. He didn’t want to make her feel threatened. “Thanks for letting me come back. I know it isn’t easy to talk about what happened. I can see you’re still scared. But there might be something you know that will help me find the man who hurt you. Some small detail you don’t even think is important. I want to find him. I want to make sure he isn’t able to do this to another woman ever again.”
Felicity swallowed and turned her head toward the window, where morning sunshine spilled through the curtains. “I was on my way home last week. It was late . . . and the night was dark.”
It was difficult to wait for her to tell the story in her own way, at her own pace, but somehow Jared kept silent.
“He came up . . . behind me. Suddenly. I had . . . I had no warning. He put his hand over my mouth . . . and then . . . then he dragged me into an old shed. There was . . . there was a lantern . . . but it didn’t shed much light. I fought him. I fought as hard as I could . . . but it was no use. Then he . . . he—” She broke off, unable to speak the unspeakable.
Jared understood without the words.
The room fell silent except for the ticking of a clock on a table against the opposite wall. It was a silence filled with pain. Jared wished he could touch her hand, offer her comfort, but such a gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. Not in her fragile state. Not with the assault so fresh in her mind.
At long last Felicity drew a ragged breath and continued. “He talked. He talked all the time. And . . . and when he was . . . done, he beat me and . . . and cut off my hair. I asked him why . . . but he only laughed.” She shuddered. “I thought . . . I thought he meant to kill me.”
Sometimes this man killed his victims. Sometimes he let them live. Either way, he destroyed lives. The need for revenge coiled in Jared’s gut, hot and furious.
Felicity met his gaze with her one good eye. “He thought I would die . . . before I was found. Didn’t he? He thought I would die or he would have . . . made certain—” She stopped, and something about her expression altered.
Alert, Jared leaned forward on the chair. “What is it? What are you thinking?”
“I remembered something. He . . . he said he was going to be . . . the next king of the Comstock.”
King of the Comstock? Comstock. The silver mines. Virginia City. Virginia City, Nevada.
At last. A real clue. At last he was back on the killer’s trail. The man he’d sought for six years was headed to Nevada. And that was where Jared was headed too.
Silver Matlock, Bob Cassidy, and Matt Carlton be hanged.
Silver poured water from the pitcher into a porcelain bowl on the table beside the bureau. After washing the best she could, she dried off with a towel and donned her clothes. Then she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. There were gray smudges beneath her eyes, evidence of another sleepless night, and she looked unusually pale. She pinched her cheeks, trying to bring some color into them. It wouldn’t do to have Mr. Newman think she was ill. He was looking for any excuse to be rid of her.
A sharp rap on the door caused her to start.
“Are you up, Miss Matlock?” Jared asked from the hallway.
“Yes.” She hurried across the room to open the door. “I’m up.”
He looked at her, his expression dour. “Meet me out front in five minutes. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Did you
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