Page 39 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Hulda turned the telegram over in her hands. “Perhaps it isn’t about money.”

Mr.Walker’s voice sounded in her memory.You don’t by chance know where those funds were transferred?

She bit her lip. Pinched the telegram in her fingers and pulled it out of her pocket. “I wonder,” she said as she unfolded it, “if this isn’t about Mr.Hogwood, but about the missing funds.”

“As good a theory as any,” Merritt tried. “You think Baillie sent it?”

“I’m sure I could come up with a story for anyone sending it.Ifit’s about BIKER’s missing funds, then itcouldbe from LIKER. Perhaps someone hired a private detective with a heavy hand.” She considered. “Or it could even be from someone within BIKER.”

“LIKER has been searching through all the files, have they not?” Merritt asked.

She nodded. “Myself included. I don’t understand how none of us have found a clue yet. But the financial statements seem sound. There’s money missing.” She ran her thumb over the inked words on the telegram. “Ineedto find Myra. I need to ask her. But I have no idea where else to look.” She could travel to the addresses from the letters herself, she supposed, if she didn’t hear back.

Except ... she knew Myra. And if Myra didn’t want to be found, she never would be.

Merritt reloaded his rifled musket with practiced ease before lifting it to his shoulder and shooting at a hanging piece of the poor birch he’d chosen as his target. The tree was dying, anyway. If its appearance hadn’t been enough of a clue, he would have known from its silence—it was the only tree on the island that didn’t talk to him. It was situated away from the house, so any errant bullets wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not thathe’d had any errant bullets yet. After all, this had been Merritt’s mode ofdealing, as Fletcher had put it, for years.

His shoulder was getting sore. He reloaded, anyway. Almost out of ammunition.Damn.And Beth wasn’t around to order in more for him. Shocking, how easily he’d become accustomed to having help. He used to do everything himself without qualm. Granted, he’d also lived in a city and not on an island in the middle of nowhere, but still. Hopefully LIKER would figure things out soon so he couldformally complainabout them abducting his maid.

He thought he still had some rounds under his bed for his Deringer.

Two more bullets blew a dying branch off the east side of the tree.

Can’t even tell them who I am.Merritt had gone over Sutcliffe’s contact list after Owein’s lesson that morning—though Merritt really should get on the articles Gifford had left him—and even though four days had passed since his meeting with his actual father, the list of names still rankled. What the hell was he supposed to say?Nelson Sutcliffe said I should contact you about magic. For no reason at all. Except I just so happen to have the exact same spells you do. Also his nose. But don’t tell his wife.

He lowered the rifle. His fingers were getting cold. His nose was starting to run. But the sun was bright, and his breath didn’t cloud in the wintry air. Hearing footsteps marching toward him, he turned to see his chef picking through the sleepy reeds.

Sleeeeeeeeeep,they whispered. That’s how Merritt knew. He envied them their rest.

Baptiste had a box of bullets under his arm.

“Bless you.” Merritt accepted the box and reloaded.

Baptiste’s dark eyes took in the battered tree. “Is expensive hobby. You should shoot deer instead.”

Merritt lifted the rifle to his shoulder. “Aren’t we a little tired of venison?”

Wood chunks sprayed as the bullet hit.

“Never tired of venison.” Baptiste folded his arms. Merritt noticed he wasn’t wearing a coat. “Venison isversatile.” He used the French enunciation of the last word.

Merritt shot again. Pulled out new bullets. “I don’t suppose you want a turn.”

A single, dry chuckle escaped the Frenchman’s lips. “No. I don’t use guns, anymore.”

“Anymore?” He snapped the muzzle back into place and aimed.

“Is why I left France. No one would hire felon.”

Merritt shot his first errant bullet and turned to Baptiste. “Pardon?”

He shrugged. “You never asked.”

Merritt took a moment to process this, hearing aYou do everything without me!complaint in the distance before catching the brush of Owein’s dark tail in the distance. “Were you incarcerated?”

Baptiste nodded.

“How long?”

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