Page 71 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
The fog thickened, curling low around my boots as if the city itself wanted to swallow the truth I’d just faced. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once—then silence.
The man hadn’t moved.
“I saw her,” he said at last, voice quieter now. “This afternoon.”
My head snapped up.
“Red hair. Walked like she owned the street, but her eyes kept checking the shadows. Brave. And far too clean for this place.”
My heart began to hammer, slow and heavy.
“Some of the men thought she was a fool. Others thought she was something to sell. But one of them . . .” He hesitated. “He watched her too long. Like he was choosing where to cut first.”
I took a step toward him. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. You showed up. But if she comes back, she won’t walk out again.”
My fists clenched.
“You need to get her out of this. Now. While you still can.”
He turned to go, but before he could do so, I asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“You pulled me out when you didn’t have to.”
A beat passed.
“You’re running out of time.”
Then he vanished into the fog, and the night closed in around me.
I stood there for a long moment, listening to the silence.
And then it struck me.
I hadn’t asked his name. Hadn’t asked about Elsie Leonard and what he saw the night of her murder. He was the one person who might have seen her killer, and I’d let him walk away.
Because all I could think about was Rosalynd. Because the fear of losing her had drowned out everything else. I turned sharply, the cold settling deeper into my bones.
I needed to warn her, tell her the danger she was facing. But not tonight. She was safe tonight. Warm, well-guarded. But Phillip might not be. I needed to know—for certain. That meant hailing a cab.
No driver would venture into the cesspool that was Saffron Hill. I cut through a narrow passage and emerged onto Farringdon Road. Even at this hour, it offered better luck than the alleys behind the tannery. A hansom soon clattered out of the mist.
“Where to, Guv’nor?” the cabbie called as I pulled the door open.
“Brook Street. Quick as you can. You’ll earn extra coin if you get me there in under half an hour.”
“I’m your man, Guv’.” He snapped the reins, and we jolted forward. The wheels rattled so violently it felt as though my teeth might shake loose. But I welcomed the haste. The sooner I reached Phillip, the sooner I’d know he was alive.
We reached Brook Street in just under thirty minutes. I tossed the cabbie a guinea.
“Keep the change.”
He tipped his hat with a grin. “Thank ‘ee kindly, Guv’nor. Good night.”
I hoped it would be.
Harrington answered the door at once, his expression tight.
