a day. She would not fail them simply because a suspicious hotel owner had misread her transaction with a prominent judge in town.
Drawing confidence from the thought of her honorable mission, Laney made her way to the fireplace mantel. She immediately took note of the tin photographs arranged haphazardly across the handcrafted stone.
How odd, she thought. The man leaning against the door, watching her through narrowed eyes, couldn’t possibly have loved ones. And yet, photographs meant family and friends. Drawn to one image in particular, Laney ran her finger along the pretty gold frame.
Concentrating on the photograph beneath her hand, she looked from the stunning woman smiling up at her, to Dupree, then back again. The resemblance was uncanny. Was this his sister? No. He seemed too hard to have a sister.
And Laney was wasting valuable time.
Glancing to the heavens, she prayed for guidance. How do I proceed, Lord? What do I say to protect Charity House and the children?
“Enough stalling, Miss O’Connor.” Dupree pushed away from the door and made his approach. “Your failure to explain your actions here tonight speaks volumes. As such, the money you accepted from Judge Greene will remain secure in my safe, and you will wait in this office while I go in search of the man myself.”
No longer caring about pride, or dignity, Laney met Dupree halfway across the room. “Please, I beg you. Don’t involve Joshua in this.”
“So now it’s Joshua, is it?”
“I meant...Judge Greene.” The correction came too late. She saw the censure in Dupree’s eyes.
“I’m afraid, Miss O’Connor, Joshua involved himself—and consequently me—when he agreed to meet you in my hotel. Since I imagine he’s smart enough not to use his real name on the register, I must ask an indelicate question. Which room is he waiting for you in?”
Laney stifled a groan that rose up in her throat.
This man seemed determined to think the worst of her. With very little evidence, he actually believed Judge Greene had rented a room in this hotel with the express purpose of spending the evening with her.
Laney would be insulted if Dupree wasn’t so completely incorrect.
Then again...
Perhaps his mistake was a blessing. Perhaps Laney could use this man’s ugly assumption of her character to her advantage.
Why not buy herself some much needed time while he went on his search. A search that would prove highly unsuccessful.
“Joshua is in room...” she paused, blinked, and then pretended to accept defeat at last “...912.”
For an endless moment, Dupree studied her face. Laney held her breath. The look of disappointment in his eyes—disappointment in her—nearly made her rethink her plan.
Should she tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand her situation. Maybe he would care.
And maybe Marc Dupree was no different than the shady banker demanding his money before their agreed upon deadline. Simply because he thought the children in her orphanage didn’t deserve a safe home in which to live. Not because they were bad children, but because of how their mothers chose to earn their living.
A living that Marc Dupree had accused Laney of conducting here tonight.
No. She couldn’t trust him.
The risk was too great.
With renewed determination, she lifted her chin a notch higher.
Dupree’s lips twisted into a frown. “Stay here.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed out of his office.
At the sound of the lock striking into place, Laney blew out a hard burst of air.
Stay here. As if he’d given her any other choice.
At least he wouldn’t find Judge Greene on the ninth floor. Or any floor, for that matter. Denver’s most respected federal judge had already exited the building by way of the back alley. By now, he was probably enjoying the rest of the evening with his very proper, very naive wife.
Dupree would be furious when he returned to his office empty-handed. Laney didn’t plan to stick around to find out just how angry. Of course, if there was no money waiting for him in the safe there could be no reason to approach the judge, now or in the future.
No evidence. No shady dealings.
Laney knew what she had to do. And she had precious little time in which to do it.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked frantically around the room. A new plan began formulating in her brain. One that would require a different ensemble than the ridiculously fancy dress she wore now.
She hurried across the room and flung open the doors to the armoire. Smiling wryly, she reached for a pair of worn trousers. Then thought better of her choice and dug deeper.
One by one, she tossed out clothing items until she found the most expensive pair of trousers and the finest linen shirt among the lot.
Kicking off her shoes, she made the change as quickly as possible. Her fingers shook over the buttons but she remained focused. Shoving up the too-long sleeves, she folded her discarded dress into a neat ball then rushed over to the safe.
Thankful she’d paid attention to Hank’s fingers working the lock, she spun the dial around, clearing it, then proceeded to get down to business.
Three turns to the right, two more to the left, a final one to the right and...
Click.
Blessed success. It took both hands to open the surprisingly heavy door. She eyed the contents, took only what belonged to her, then pushed the safe closed.
Feeling contrary, she scribbled a quick note to the owner of the hotel—it was the only proper thing to do after all the hospitality he’d given her—then, with a bold sweep of her arm, cleared the desktop of all papers.
She jumped onto the desk.
Looking to the window, she let out a chuckle. She’d scaled too many walls, jumped on and off too many trains, to let a measly little slab of glass three feet above her head daunt her now. A quick flex of fingers, a check to make sure she’d secured her reticule tightly around her wrist and she was ready.
Mind focused on one task at a time, she grabbed the window’s frame with one hand and felt around for the opening with the other. Finding the lever at last, she unlocked the latch and pushed the glass forward until she’d created a substantial slit. Careful to avoid catching the silky material on any random piece of wood or metal, she threw the borrowed dress out the opening.
Her foot found a toehold in the wall’s masonry. Pulling with her arms and pushing with her feet she raised herself up. Once she was halfway through the window, she grasped the outside casing and tugged again. One final push and she was free.
Free.
Tumbling toward the ground, she used the momentum of the fall to gather her balance.
As always, Laney landed on her feet.
Smiling, she picked up the dress, checked the condition of her reticule and took off at a full run. She made it exactly five steps before colliding into a solid mass of silk-encased muscle.
“Oh!”
The dress plummeted from her clutches. Head reeling, mind focused on escape, Laney instinctively bent to snatch the garment as quickly as possible. Her progress was halted midreach.
Powerful arms trapped her from behind, while an annoyingly familiar voice rang in her ears. “It would appear, Miss O’Connor, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Chapter Three
Laney