he sneered.
****
“You can’t do this.” She tried to reason with the man as he bound his wife’s arms to the dining room chair.
“Actually, I can,” he snapped as he took the folded handkerchief and placed it over Penny’s mouth. “I can’t have you screaming out, my dear, while I interrogate your young friend.”
Tears rolled down Penny’s cheeks, and Mary Rose felt helpless to stop him. “What do you want?” Like Penny, she was tied to a chair, only Captain Wallace had bound her hands behind her instead of to the chair arms.
“Your brother found something that belongs to me, and I mean to have it,” he told her in a cold and chilling voice.
“Daniel?”
Captain Wallace walked around the table, coming to a stop beside her. “Oh, yes, Daniel. You see, his actions are stopping me from completing a lucrative business deal. My associate lost something most valuable. A coin. That coin is my ticket to a life of luxury.”
Suddenly she knew. The image of the Mexican coin from Daniel’s desk flowed into her mind. She swallowed down the fears that welled up inside her. “I, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
The peal of laughter that spilled from his lips chilled her blood. Watching out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bring up the hand holding the gun. She flinched as he brought the cold steel to her face and stroked its length down her cheek.
“You are not a convincing liar,” he remarked. Laying the gun down, he leaned close to her ear. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or you can make it very hard on yourself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated.
His hand swept across her cheek in a stinging slap that rocked the chair. “Wrong answer.”
She felt the warm taste of blood from the corner of her mouth and concentrated on Penny’s face. She tried to use her eyes to tell her to hold on until help arrived.
“Where is the coin?”
She turned and glowered at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As she watched, his face turned an ugly molten red.
“You think you’re brave, don’t you? Or perhaps you’re holding out for your friend, the marshal, to get here.”
She took a deep breath and felt the frantic beat of her heart. Behind him, she could see the hands of the clock inch beyond six p.m. Within the hour, Trace would arrive.
“Do you think I care? It won’t matter to me if I shoot him or not. I’ve killed more men in battle than I care to remember. One more won’t hurt my conscience.”
She followed him with her eyes as he stood and picked up his weapon to walk around behind her to the other side.
“Hm. I hear friendship is a strong bond. Perhaps I’m going about this the wrong way.”
To her horror, she watched as he moved to stand beside Penny.
“How many blows will you take, my dear, before your friend comes around?”
Penny’s eyes widened with a knowing fear. Suddenly Mary Rose understood what her friend had been unable to say. Her face blanched as he drew back his hand and Penny shrank against the chair.
“No!” Mary Rose screamed out. “I, I’ll show you.”
Augustus Wallace walked back toward the chair, snatched the ropes from her arms, and yanked her to her feet, putting his snarling lips within inches of her face. She did her best to stare him down.
“If you even try to stall or not tell me the truth, your friend will have a terrible accident. Such a shame for her to trip and fall down your stairs.”
She glanced across the table. Penny’s frightened mumbles behind the cloth were no doubt telling her not to do it. Yet there was an innocent child to protect. Mary Rose looked back at the demon-red eyes. A sick feeling filled her stomach; she could tell Augustus Wallace did not give empty threats.
“It’s in Daniel’s desk, locked in the strongbox.”
“Let’s get it.”
As he shoved her before him, Mary Rose stumbled over her own feet on the way toward the study.
“You killed my brother?”
“Yes, he kept getting in the way, just like you’re doing now.” His hand upon her back pushed her toward the doorway.
“And Moe, was he part of the deal?”
“My simple-minded brother?” Wallace scoffed. “He was a liability to be taken care of.” He shoved her behind the desk. “Your trip to the fort was a stroke of luck. Which drawer?”
“You killed your own brother?” she whispered. “How could