Page 53 of More Than Meets the Eye

“Her name’s Christie.”

Logan held up a hand in apology. “Right. Christie.” Seth’s scowl didn’t lighten much at Logan’s use of Miss Gilliam’s given name. Sheesh. Logan was starting to see the family resemblance after all. When riled, all three Hamiltons glowered with identical ferocity. “I pulled her from the river, remember? I’ve got a stake in her well-being, too.”

“Just tell me what happened in Ben Franklin.”

“Something about Miss Gilliam’s explanation of what happened that day never sat right with me. I don’t think she lied about anything,” Logan hurried to assure Seth when his brows started dipping into a deep V, “but I think she knows more than she let on. So I decided to do some digging on my own. Subtle digging, of course. Didn’t want to alert anyone of her whereabouts or my connection to her. I focused on the one lead I already had—whiskey.”

Seth’s eyes glittered. “You tracked down the bootlegger.”

Logan nodded. “Spent a couple weeks chumming with the locals at the Seven Ponies until I managed to get myself invited to a jug party behind the livery. The jug they passed around had a brown ribbon tied through the finger hole.”

Seth crossed his arms and gave a grunt of understanding. Color-coded jugs were Earl’s calling card.

Glossing over his hours of poker playing—no need to reveal his skill in that arena just yet—Logan filled Seth in on the rest of the pertinent details. “I mentioned I’d be interested in procuring a jug of my own. The livery owner took my money and arranged a pickup for the next afternoon. Hence my overnight stay.”

“And . . . ?”

“And I staked out the meeting place and waited for the deliveryman to show.”

Seth uncrossed his arms. “How do you know it was Earl? He could have hired someone else to make the run.”

Logan shook his head. “Don’t think so. He matched Miss Gilliam’s description. Bushy beard, older, lazy demeanor, carried a burlap sack to hide the whiskey. It was Earl. And he isn’t the man I saw at the river. Of that, I’m positive.”

“So we’re no closer to unraveling who wanted her dead.” Seth snatched up his coffee cup and downed the remainder of the brew before slamming the tin vessel back onto the rock.

“Maybe not.”

Seth peered at Logan expectantly, a tiny spark of hope lighting his eyes.

“You’ve spoken to her more than I have, but she gave me the impression that she didn’t go out much. That Earl kept her under his thumb most of the time.”

Seth nodded. “Christie’s never mentioned any friends, but that doesn’t surprise me. Ben Franklin’s not her home. She moved there after her mother married Earl. To keep her deafness secret from her stepfather, she would’ve had to hide it from the townsfolk as well and make everyone believe she’s a simpleton. These last few weeks have been the first days in years that she’s been free to be herself.” He gripped the back of his neck. “I can’t stand to think about what her life must have been like before. I’ve watched her devour books as if she’s starving for knowledge, and she can discuss the most complicated ideology like a trained scholar. Not to mention total a column of numbers in her head faster than I can manage with pencil and paper. She’s brilliant. Going back to that life, being trapped in that lie again—it would destroy her. But she can’t hide away forever, either. I won’t let her trade one prison for another. She deserves to live a rich, full life. And she can’t do that if the man who tried to kill her is free to try again.”

“Well, she needs to stay hidden awhile longer. There are handbills posted in the Seven Ponies about a missing girl. Someone’s looking for her. Might be Earl, might be the man who tried to drown her. Can’t be sure which. Posters say to report information to the town marshal. His is the only name on the flier.”

Seth frowned. “If the man who attacked her went back to check the river, he’d find her gone. He wouldn’t know for sure she wasn’t dead, but he’d have plenty of reason to suspect she survived. If he’s the type to tie up loose ends, he’ll want to discover what happened to her.”

“Exactly. So we need to stay ahead of the game.” Logan paced toward the stream, then pivoted and strode back with purpose. “We need to probe Christie for more information. Details about exactly where she was and what she did prior to her attack.” He moved closer to Seth and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “She trusts you. She’ll open up to you.”

Seth wagged his head and shrugged off Logan’s hand. “I can’t just interrogate her without giving her context,” he groused. “I’ll have to tell her about your investigation. Explain that we want to help her.”

Logan stiffened. “I don’t know if that’s wise. What if she balks? She might get angry about our interference and clam up. Or worse—leave.”

Seth froze, that last threat hitting the mark. He turned slowly, his eyes sad, his face haggard, but his jaw was as firm as the rocks lining the creek bed. “I can’t let my fear of losing her keep me from doing the right thing.” The quiet timbre of his voice heightened the conviction of his words. “Secrets create distance. Just look at Christie’s life before. No friends. No close relationships with anyone. All because of the secrets she kept. I won’t perpetuate that cycle with her. I care about her too much not to be honest with her about everything.” He looked away when he said that last word. Everything. He had other hidden truths he was now willing to bring to light. Because he didn’t want anything to impede the closeness he was building with Miss Gilliam.

A situation uncomfortably similar to Logan’s own relationship with Eva. Maybe her finding that letter in the cellar was a good thing. A chance for him to come clean. To test her trust, her loyalty. Seth was man enough to take the risk. Logan could do no less. Only his risk was infinitely greater, for he wasn’t simply hunting a threat, he was the threat.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“I think the key to uncovering the man who tried to kill Miss Gilliam lies in the book she found,” Logan said.

Seth’s brow crinkled. “Book?”

“Yes. Remember she said that the only thing different about her deliveries that day was that someone left a book instead of money in exchange for the moonshine.”

A thoughtful look crossed Seth’s face as he bent to retrieve the coffee cup and poured himself another serving. “You think the book is the key because it was the only thing out of the ordinary that day? Seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“Not when another book made a suspicious appearance today after Earl delivered my whiskey.”