The Lost Girl of Astor Street(91)

“I’m going to ask you a question, and if you’re smart, you’ll tell me the truth.” She rests her palms on Father’s desk and towers over me, the smile wiped from her face. “Where is your friend Matthew?”

“Matthew?” The word emerges on a gusty exhale. “I’ve no idea.”

Alana considers me. “I think you’re lying.”

“Well, then, you’re going to be disappointed, because I’m not.”

She straightens. “My patience has run out, Piper. And this time when I ask you, you’d better shoot straight.” She undoes the clasp of her clutch, and a small, silver pistol glints in the light as she levels it at me. “Or I’ll make sure I do.”




The gun, which resides so comfortably in Alana’s grasp, sends my heart slamming against my rib cage. “I-I’m not lying.”

The words flop out of my mouth and lie pointlessly between us. They’re no shield for me.

“I saw the letter.” Impatience hardens her words. “He said he’d call. Now, where is he?”

Sidekick wedges himself under my legs and trembles. Some sidekick. “He never called.”

“Enough with the lies, Piper. Where is he?”

“If I knew, I would tell you, but I don—”

There’s a knock at the front door, which makes a startled scream stick in my throat. Sidekick barks, and scrambles out from under the desk to greet the visitor.

Alana seems alarmed as well. She holds the gun at her side, and I steal the moment to look about Father’s desk. His banker’s lamp could be a decent weapon. Why can’t he keep a letter opener in plain sight?

Alana aims the gun at me once more. “Who’s at the door, Piper?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re going to ignore them. You so much as whimper the word help, and I will pull this trigger. That understood?”

The look in her eyes—fury with a twinge of madness—is what sets my knees trembling.

“Is that understood?”

I nod.

“Do you want to live, Piper?” Her voice is cold and quiet, yet it roars above Sidekick’s barking and scratching at the front door.

“Yes, I do.” Please come in here. Whoever you are, please come in.

“Then all you need to do is tell me where Matthew is. You tell me that, and this has a happy ending for all of us.”

“What’s Matthew to you?”

Alana opens her mouth, but instead, Emma Crane’s sweet voice fills the air. “Piper?” She’s in the entryway. “Hello?”

My eyes slide closed as dread pierces my heart. Not Emma.

“Anyone home?”

I look to Alana, who presses her finger to her lips, the universal sign for shh.

But Sidekick’s nails slide across the floor as he romps down the short hallway, toward the office.

“Blasted dog,” Alana mutters. She tucks the gun behind her back. “Don’t get up. Don’t move. And get rid of her quick.” Her voice morphs to the airy, social one I’m accustomed to. “We’re down the hall, hon. In Mr. Sail’s office.”

Nick’s words float through my ears—sometimes, it’s like she’s two different people—and a shiver courses through me.

“Forgive me for barging in, but the door was unlocked.” Emma appears in the doorway, her dress sunshine yellow and her cheeks pink. Her smile falls when she looks at me. “Piper, what’s wrong?”

I swallow. I don’t need to look at Alana to know she’s watching me with a warning gaze. I have to be calm. I have to lie.

“Nothing.” My laugh trembles out of me. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh, good. You looked as though you’d received some sort of dreadful news!” She holds up my beaded handbag. “This is why I so rudely let myself in. I figured you’d need it for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you.” My gaze wanders to the barrel of the gun behind Alana’s back, still pointed at me. “Why don’t you just put it right there? We need to be going soon.”

“I’ve walked it this far. Surely I can walk it ten more feet to you.”

As Emma draws closer to the desk, I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming, Run! Get out of here!

Especially when Emma smiles at Alana and says a polite, “Hello.”

I have to introduce them. It’ll seem odd if I don’t. “This is Alana Kirkwood, Nick’s girlfriend.” The words have a wobble to them that I can’t seem to erase from my voice. “And this is my good friend, Emma Crane.”

Emma holds out her hand, every bit the well-bred society girl. “How do you do?”

My stomach lurches as Alana shifts the gun to her left hand in order to shake Emma’s. “Very nice to meet you.”

How good of a shot is she? It’s a single-action pistol. Does she carry extra bullets in her clutch as well? If I could somehow get to the gun and fire off a shot, I could do away with her advantage . . .

But I can’t put Emma at risk. “Thanks for bringing my handbag, Emma, but we really need to be leaving for dinner.”

“Of course. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” She smiles at Alana. “So nice to have met you.”