Page 71 of Winterset

“I don’t know. It was frustrating. I kept thinking, if only I could ask her the right question, she would start chattering. But I couldn’t think what it could be.”

They rode to the center of town, where they stabled their horses at the inn and took a private dining room for a bit of lunch before continuing to the records office. They were shown to the best room by an obsequious innkeeper who, while he did not know them, knew well enough the cut and quality of their clothing, as well as the high breeding of their horses, and had great expectations of a large bill.

The private room was well apportioned, but small, creating a sense of intimacy. They seemed much more alone, Anna thought, than they ever did in either of their homes, with all the servants about. Here, once the maids had bustled in with their meal and laid it on the table, they were left quite alone, the door closed between them and the rest of the world. The room lay at the back of the inn, and the windows were open to the summer breeze, letting in the peaceful sounds of birds and the occasional distant noise of a horse and wagon, or the laughter of one of the ostlers.

Anna glanced over at Reed, who was busy carving the roast. She enjoyed looking at him this way, without his knowing how long her eyes dwelled on him, or seeing the warmth that she was afraid crept into her face when she saw him. Her eyes went to his hands, strong and quick, then back up his arms, the muscles moving beneath his coat.

“Anna?”

“What? Oh.” Startled, she looked up into Reed’s face to find him watching her, holding a slice of meat ready for her. Color flamed in her cheeks, and she quickly held out her plate. “I’m sorry. I was thinking…about the murders.”

“Yes?” he said questioningly.

“I was wondering whether we are actually accomplishing anything,” Anna said. It was a thought that had occurred to her more than once in the past few days. “Even if we are able to find out something about the murders that took place forty-eight years ago—and I frankly wonder how we can accomplish that when no one was able to at the time—will it really help us to find out what happened to Estelle and Frank Johnson?”

“I’ve wondered, too,” Reed admitted, slicing off another piece of meat and laying it on his own plate. “Anyone could have decided to copy the murders. He wouldn’t have to have a connection to the earlier ones. Yet I can’t help but think that it would be wrong of us not to pursue those killings. What if we do find something that will give us a clue about the recent murders?”

“I know. I don’t mean that we should abandon what we are doing,” Anna told him. “But I wish we could think of some way we could find out more about what happened to Estelle or that boy.”

Reed glanced at her somewhat speculatively. Anna’s eyebrows went up.

“What?” she said. “You are thinking something.”

A half smile touched his lips. “You are right.”

“And you’re thinking I won’t like it,” she continued.

“Right again.” The partial smile turned into a full one, and Anna felt her insides melting. If he only knew, that smile would probably have her agreeing to almost anything. “I have been thinking about your ‘gift.’”

“My gift?” Anna looked puzzled.

“Your ability to—to sense what has happened. Or is about to happen. As you did with your brother, or what you felt when you found the Johnson lad.”

“Oh.” Anna put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, looking at him warily. She did not know what he was going to say, but she disliked the thought of talking about her visions. She feared that he wondered, as she often did, if these strange occurrences were evidence that she, too, might be slipping into madness. “What were you thinking about this ‘gift’?”

“Only that I wish we could use it.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this. “Use it? How?” she asked, leaning forward a little.

“To tell us more about the case. I don’t understand it. But what you sensed about your brother was remarkably accurate, don’t you think?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

“You saw the place where it occurred. You felt something of what happened to him. I wish there was some way you could direct that ability onto these killings. Maybe you could get some sense of who had done them, or how.”

Anna shifted in her seat. “I—I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you,” Reed said quickly, reaching out to lay his hand over hers on the table. “I wouldn’t want you to do it if you didn’t want to. If it made you uneasy or…” His voice trailed off.

Anna was very aware of his hand resting on hers, of the warmth and texture of his skin. It sent a tingle up her arm and into her chest. She shifted in her chair, sliding her hand from his and folding it with her other hand in her lap.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, exactly,” she said. “I just…don’t know how to do it. It isn’t something I have ever tried to do. The visions, the feelings, or whatever you want to call them, just come upon me. There is no warning, and I don’t do anything that causes them. I just suddenly feel them. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t know how to go about encouraging them.”

Reed removed his hand and started in on his food, nodding.

“Perhaps…I could try thinking about Estelle,” Anna mused. It sent a little shiver through her to think about trying to open her mind up to thoughts about the murder.

Reed looked over at her and saw the way her face had paled. “No,” he said quickly. “It isn’t worth it. I didn’t think—the effect on you would be too terrible. It was a foolish idea.”