Fearless (Scarlet Suffragette, Book 1): A Victorian Historical Romantic Suspense Series Read Free Page B

frowning. “Thank you for the moment alone with my friend.”
    “Did it help?” he asked, as I began to walk away. The care in his tone was almost my undoing.
    “More than you’ll know, Inspector,” I said, without turning back around.
    The bright light of the wharf blinded me for a moment, as I walked out of the darkened alley, back into civilisation. But not necessarily a world untainted by evil. I’d seen too much of it in my twenty-six years. I’d worked beside my father at some of the most heinous crime scenes there were. Witnessed atrocities. Marvelled at man’s unkindness to man. And then dissected it all afterwards on the sterile environment of a doctor’s slab.
    Drummond’s surgery had not always been his.
    “All right, Miss Cassidy?” Sergeant Blackmore’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Need an escort somewhere?”
    I glanced across at the burly man; his beard a few days past needing refinement. His suit jacket stretched across broad shoulders, hard fought for in pugilist rings. His crooked nose a testament to those activities. A gentle smile curved his lips.
    “He ain’t been too hard on you, has he, miss? The inspector,” he added, as if I hadn’t known who he’d been referring to.
    “I can handle the Inspector, Sergeant,” I offered in way of reply, a smile added to soothe the sting of my words.
    “Aye, that you can, miss,” Blackmore said with enthusiasm. “But can he handle you?”
    The smile froze on my face; unsure how to take that statement. Unsure if I was meant to have heard it.
    I shook my head and glanced around the now cleared area. One thing to be said for the Auckland Central Police Force, they knew how to contain a crime scene.
    “I believe I’ll walk,” I announced, my eyes stuck fast on the makeshift stage. It appeared most impressive for one single election speech. “How long do you think it took them to make this, Blackmore?” I asked, shifting closer to the behemoth and running a hand along the edge of the ruffled fabric draping its sides.
    A noise sounded out from beneath the raised platform, the fabric curtain shifting as though in a breeze.
    “Back, Miss Cassidy,” Blackmore said with authority. “Back now, you hear.”
    I stepped back and allowed the sergeant egress. Looking around the bulk of his shoulders as he pulled his billy club free and lifted the curtain at the side. Two bright shining eyes stared out at us. A hiss followed and then, in a thrice, short legs carried the startled child away.
    “Be gone with you!” Blackmore shouted, taking a few cursory steps in the direction of the ragamuffin, but not offering pursuit. “Damned orphans,” he spat and then doffed his hat in apology. “Forgiveness, miss. Them street urchins been causing all kinds of havoc lately.”
    I watched the child dodge pedestrians as though he’d done this sort of thing a time or two. He scampered over the canal and headed towards the Mechanics Bay dockyard. An area I was certain a child should not roam.
    “Shall I walk with you, Miss Cassidy?” Blackmore offered, no further thought of the orphan in his mind.
    Kelly chose that moment to stride out of the alleyway, his limp barely present today. He spotted Blackmore and myself immediately; the sergeant’s arm out in offering of an escort. A frown marred the inspector’s face, his eyes homing in on Blackmore.
    “I fear your time is better spent here, Sergeant,” I offered, lifting my skirt and starting to walk away.
    “Never think so, miss,” Blackmore offered, only to be spoken over by Inspector Kelly.
    “Miss Cassidy,” he called, forcing me to halt in my escape. I turned slowly to look up at him, but his eyes weren’t on my face.
    My hand fisted tighter on my skirt.
    His eyes narrowed.
    “What part of tampering with the scene,” the inspector announced in a dark voice, “did you not understand?”
    I glanced down at my gloved hand, noting the brightness of the blood against the whiteness of the linen in the