Page 22 of Secrets in the Dark
“American?” she murmured. “Well, some thought that he did move on across the water. Some thought that he might well be an American. No one wants to believe that one of their own might be such a heinous killer. And yet it happens again!” she said softly.
“Did you see anything? Is there anything—”
“No, I am so sorry. I should have thought of the pub here, and the alley...and I did not. I do not mean to be so rude. I am Mrs. Abigail Scott, and...”
Her voice trailed for a minute.
“Mrs. Scott, were you a victim of such a killer?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “No, but as the years go by, I realize that I was ahead of my time. I was an advocate for these poor wretches, trying to make change. My husband had been a barrister. He passed away quite young from a wretched debilitating disease. I had two small children to feed and was extremely lucky that my uncle was a newspaper man and allowed me to become a journalist. I wrote about the state of the poor people crowded here back then, I wrote about the plight of the people here, I advocated for change and social reform.”
“My sincere admiration,” Mason told her.
“I wish I had seen something. Though I feared that if I had, I would not have been able to do much with the information, but now... The woman down there—she sees me, too.”
“My partner,” Mason said.
“Partner?” she asked, raising a perfect brow. “Is that what you young people call it these days?”
Mason smiled. “My partner, Special Agent Della Hamilton. She is one of the most amazing law enforcement officers with whom I have ever had the pleasure to work. She is also more—I have never loved anyone as I love her. So...yes. Partner in everything. We are Blackbird—a new team connected to a specialized unit of the FBI. Our members all have the gift of seeing those such as yourself—who choose to be seen.”
“Oh.” She paused, seeming taken aback for a minute, but then amused. “Well, I shall be glad to speak with her as well. But to my great sorrow, I have nothing to tell you.”
“We’re going to head to the Ten Bells tonight, to watch that area. If you’re of a mind—”
“I will see you later, Mr. Carter.”
He nodded. He never expected to be formally addressed and he wasn’t about to correct this wonderful spirit who just might, in time, prove a wonderful asset.
She could go where they could not—without being seen.
He bowed politely, about to turn and head back, when Della came around the corner.
“Ah, my dear lady, we were just speaking about you!” Abigail Scott said.
“Without being too obvious lest they lock us away,” Mason said, “it would be my most sincere pleasure to introduce the two of you. Mrs. Abigail Scott, please meet Della Hamilton, Special Agent Della Hamilton. Della, Mrs. Scott was quite the progressive in her day and she’s willing to assist us, having witnessed such horrors before.”
“Thank you, and a pleasure to meet you,” Della told her.
“She was a journalist and advocated for social change,” Mason said.
“Amazing and wonderful,” Della said.
“No, it will be amazing and wonderful if I can help you now,” the ghost replied, and she smiled. “And the world has gone on, decade after decade. Please call me Abigail. And I shall have no problem referring to the two of you as Mason and Della.”
“Agreed!” Della said. “Abigail, I’d so love to talk to you now, but Mason—”
“She’ll find us tonight,” Mason told her.
“Thank you,” Della said. “We’re supposed to be meeting up with others and searching through video footage. While the killer might have been hidden in the alley, he had to leave it.”
“Yes, of course. There are cameras now,” Abigail said. She smiled. “I will watch, and watch. And do everything that I can.”
“Thank you,” Mason said.
Della nodded and added a soft refrain of “Thank you.”
Together, they turned and hurried back to the waiting cars.
