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So he probably didn’t agree with her, which was more depressing than it should have been. What did she care what he thought, as long as he kept her secrets.
“My children did not willingly join any gang.”
“You’re certain of that?”
Samantha was about to flash out a retort when he put up both his hands.
“I’m just trying to get as much information as I can,” he said. “After all, this is the first time we’ve actually been honest with each other. And that is as much my fault as yours.”
“Sorry.” Samantha tried to give the question its fair due. “It’s possible one of the older boys might have been persuaded, but not the little ones. They were terrified of being left on their own in Old Town.”
So terrified that it made her heart cramp with anxiety whenever she thought of what might have happened to those sweet little boys.
“And I understand you never took the matter to the police.”
“Arthur said they wouldn’t believe me, because we didn’t have proof of any crime.”
“Ah, the excellent Mr. Baines. Do you agree that they wouldn’t believe you?”
She wondered at his sardonic tone but mentally shrugged it away. “No, but I do agree with his assessment that the police won’t do anything about it.” She paused. “I’m the only one who will.”
When she started down the steps of the wynd, he followed closely behind.
“My presence would suggest otherwise,” he said, “although I certainly don’t intend to let you bash headfirst into a dangerous situation.”
“I don’t bash into anything, sir. I do what I must. Please do not get in my way.”
She swept down the last few stairs and into the laneway at the bottom of the wynd. He caught up with her in two long strides.
“I’m not trying to stop you,” Braden said, becoming exasperated. “I’m trying to help you.”
“So far, all you’ve done is hold me up.”
“Not my intention.”
She scoffed. “So kind of you.”
They moved quickly and quietly, with their way only illuminated occasionally by flickers of light from candles in the windows of the tenements crowding over them. Samantha couldn’t help noticing that Braden navigated the broken cobblestones and blind turns as easily as she did.
“So, you wish to volunteer at my clinic,” he said as they entered one of the closes leading to Lawn Market Street.
She frowned at the change in subject. “I said I did.”
“Because you’re looking for information sources, I’m assuming. Many of the residents of Old Town pass through my doors, and they do like to gossip.”
Too clever by half, he is.
“Sorry. I know it’s rather horrible of me to use you like that.”
“Och, lass, you can use me whenever you want, as much as you want.”
She scowled up at him. “It’s not a joke, you know. And I wish you would stop laughing at me.”
“My apologies. And the only thing horrible about it is that you didn’t tell me what you needed.”
“Well, I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
He placed a hand between her shoulder blades, gently steering her past a jumble of broken cobblestones that she’d failed to notice.
