Page 155 of In These Hills

Her mind spinning, Josephine struggled to keep up, scarcely believing this was really happening. “So you and Mr. Thacker, you’re both part of whatever—”

“I assumed he told you.”

“I think he was trying to, but—”

“This is all your brother’s doing, Miss Dunham. Or at least the seed of it. It’s grown since his death. Inspired by it. Emboldened, you might say.”

“But what is all this?”

“Todd Dunham had a way of bringing people together. People who would not usually view each other as allies. Your brother found common ground and used it to build unlikely relationships where justice could prevail. Like this—at least we hope.”

The matron stopped at two doors opposite each other near the end of the hallway. The door on the left led to the women’s cells. She unlocked the one on the right. “Don’t say another word until we’re outside this building.”

She guided Josephine into an office lined with desks behind a waist-high counter. Most were vacant. Three remaining clerks in the back were gathering their things.

The matron approached the counter, Josephine in tow. “One more before you go. A discharge. Bond was made.”

The three clerks exchanged looks before one sighed and motioned them forward. The others took their leave.

“Name?” the clerk asked, reaching for a stack of folders.

“Josephine Dunham,” the matron answered.

The woman paused, her gaze sliding to Josephine. “I thought bail was denied in that case. That’s what the newspapers said.”

Josephine’s heart pounded, and the matron’s grip tightened on her arm.

“I read the same thing. Then I was told bond had been set and posted, so we let her go. I’m just doing my job—and hoping to get home before the day’s spent.”

“You and me both. But really, what is the world coming to.” The clerk flipped through folder after folder, then frowned. “I’m not seeing papers for her. Are you sure—”

A door opened, and an officer walked in. Josephine glimpsed the crowded lobby beyond him, and fought the urge to run. Then recognition set in.

The desk sergeant who had taken her into custody handed the clerk a piece of paper. “Magistrate’s office just dropped this by. Thought I’d deliver it before heading out.”

The clerk took the form. “Sergeant, your timing is impeccable. And the magistrate’s office? Tardy as usual.” As she penned a ledger entry, Josephine thought she caught a fleeting exchange between the sergeant and the matron, but couldn’t be sure.

A minute later, the matron led her across the lobby, hand still firm on her arm. “Breathe, Miss Dunham,” she whispered, opening one of the double doors. “You’re almost home free. I’ll walk you to the front gate. After that, you’re on your own.”

But she wouldn’t be on her own. Dodge would be there. Somewhere. She knew it. And even if he wasn’t—if, for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t come—she still wouldn’t be alone. Not ever again.

She crossed the threshold into the late afternoon sunshine, and the first breath she took, she knew she’d remember forever.

The streets bustled with traffic and people, and as they walked down the steps, she searched every face for his, her nerves taut. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. And please, when you see Mr. Thacker—”

“I know. I will. And Miss Dunham, know this . . .” They paused by the heavy iron gate. “Adelaide Stewart did not die alone. I overheard your conversation with Mayor Darden the other night. I was with her till the very end.”

Josephine couldn’t have put it into words, but she sensed the confirmation of that deep inside her. “Thank you, I’m so grateful to know you were—”

The matron frowned. Her gaze trailed Josephine’s toward the street—where Mayor Darden was climbing from a carriage. The matron spun back. “Go. Now. He hasn’t seen you. Walk to the end of the street. Don’t run. Then do as Mr. Thacker said. Vanish!”

The matron left her and, having no choice, Josephine willed one step after another, passing through the iron gates, and walking straight toward Frank Darden. The mayor seemed intent on his conversation with the man beside him, and Josephine kept her head down, though still where she could see him.

Just as she turned left, he looked up—and stopped mid-step.

But she did not. She kept walking, matching the pace of those around her, every nerve screaming for her to look back—and to run. She rounded the corner and quickened her stride, dreading the sound of footsteps behind her. And Darden screaming her name.

Aware of curious glances, she’d tried to make herself presentable for the attorney meeting, but knew she looked as worn and beaten as she felt. A carriage slowed beside her, and she panicked and started to bolt, when someone stepped up behind her and a firm hand closed around her arm. She turned, ready to fight—then froze at the sight of him, and the love in his eyes.