The Lost Girl of Astor Street(62)

I flip through my notebook, to where I had described Mr. Barrow for Mariano’s benefit. I don’t like the man, but I find myself asking the same question Mariano posed last night. Even aside from the fact that Mariano has verified his alibi, what did he have to gain by kidnapping and killing Lydia?

But really, who had anything to gain from it?

“Hello, Piper.”

I look up from my notes and find Emma Crane at the fence, smiling in that soft way of hers. Sidekick romps for the front gate and puts his paws up on the bars.

“Sidekick—down.”

“What a sweet dog.” Emma reaches to pat his head with a gloved hand, and he scurries out of reach. Some guard dog. “Could I join you for a bit?”

I put on a smile and set aside my notebook. “Of course.”

Emma undoes the hinge and squeezes through so as not to let Sidekick out of the yard. Emma’s face has more of a glow than normal. Perhaps it’s the feminine pale pink of her drop-waist dress, or the effect of summer days spent on the lake.

“Would you care to go inside?”

“No, this is fine.” Emma settles beside me on the step. “How are you doing, Piper? And please don’t feel the need to be overly polite with me.”

“I’m . . . okay, I suppose. It’s a day-to-day thing.”

“You’ve been on my mind a lot these last weeks. I won’t pretend to understand what it feels like to lose your best friend in such a way, but I imagine it’s too terrible for words.”

My throat is tight as I hold back tears, and I have to wait a moment before I can squeeze out a watery, “Thank you, Emma.”

“I know we’ve never been close, but I’ve always admired you and Lydia from a distance.” Emma’s smile is shy. “Especially you.”

Her words remind me that she’s a full year behind me in school. “I don’t deserve admiration, Emma, but thank you.”

“I disagree.” Emma’s eyes spark. “And my brother would too. He’s quite taken with you, as I’m sure you realize. Since Jeremiah is about as subtle as a freight train.”

A nervous laugh sticks in my chest. How would Lydia respond to something like this? A demure laugh, perhaps. Then she would redirect the conversation to Emma somehow.

But Emma doesn’t seem to require my response. “You know, it was all over school that you’ve been investigating what happened to Lydia. That you even ditched school one day to help that detective.”

I feel my jaw fall open. “How would anybody know that?”

“Just rumors. You know how it is. People have to talk about something.” Emma shrugs her narrow shoulders. “So I came by today because I wondered how much you would charge somebody if they wanted you to look into something for them.”

Emma’s eyes, lake blue like Jeremiah’s, have an unfamiliar gleam in them.

“How do you mean, ‘look into something’?”

“I mean, if they had something they wanted you to investigate.”

This is quiet Emma Crane, right? Emma, who’s so reserved, I sometimes don’t notice when she’s joined a conversation? How can she be asking what I think she is? “Emma . . . ?”

She holds her gaze to mine, seeming to have no interest in answering my unasked question.

“What are you asking me to investigate for you?”

“I’ve been dating this guy, Robbie, since the spring. I was at the Daily Chicagoan offices, waiting for Jeremiah. Robbie was waiting for someone too, and we started talking, and . . . well, we really hit it off. We’ve had quite a few dates, and he’s even come to family dinners a few times.”

“But?”

Emma’s wistful smile slips. “There’s something he’s keeping from me. He says he can’t talk about his work, that it’s a violation of his oath or something. Robbie tells me that ‘in time,’ it’ll all come out. But meanwhile . . . I think I might love him. And I don’t want to let myself get in any deeper if . . . Well, you know.”

“It might not be something bad.” But even I hear the doubt in my voice. “He might just work for the government or something.”

“Maybe.”

“What do your parents think?”

“Oh, they adore Robbie. But they think he works with the railroad. He told me ahead of time that he would have to tell them a fake story, but that he cares enough about me and will eventually tell me the truth. Or a part of it, anyway.” Emma clutches her cloche to her head as a gust of wind sweeps down the street.

My hair breaks free of some of its pins, but I don’t bother to capture it until the gust has passed. “So, eventually, you’ll find out what he actually does.”

“That’s what he says.”

“So you could just wait. Could just trust him to tell you when the timing is right.” But I couldn’t do that. If I thought Mariano were lying about who he was, there’s no way I would just sit back and wait for him to tell me in his own time.

“I thought about that.” Emma’s voice is quiet, but strong too. “And I asked myself what you would do.”

“What I would do? Emma, I’m no example to follow.”

She cocks her head at me. “Says who?”

Anyone and everyone.