Loving Madison

Eight

Cameron tightened the reins in his hands. Leaning forward, he pushed the horse faster as he rode toward the Metropolitan Police station. Confusion beat in his head, throbbing with each pound of the horse's hooves on the ground. How would Miss Haywood have known about Mr. Bailey? There was no possible way, especially when only a handful of people knew about Bailey being kept behind bars. Those few who knew about it, wouldn't have said anything in front of the other officers.

That woman made him insane. One minute he was lost in her sparkling blue eyes, like diamonds dancing on clear water, and the next minute she was rattling nonsense that made him want to scream. Perhaps this woman wasn't in her right mind after all. Thankfully, he'd dismissed her from his house, away from Alice...and away from him!

He rode through the gates, and then slowed his horse. As he reached the front of the building, he brought the animal to a stop, jumped off, and threw the reins over the post. He rushed into the station, going in one direction only. A few of the other officers threw their glances his way, but he didn't stop to visit.

He took the back stairs, two at a time, leading below. The dungeon was what the officers called the small, dark cells where they held suspects for questioning. Cameron turned, and headed down a long, dimly-lit corridor. When he came to Mr. Bailey's cell, he stopped. Fumbling with the keys, he peered through the small window in the door, hoping he could detect some kind of movement inside. As each second passed without seeing anything, his heart hammered faster.

"Bailey?" he called loudly. "Answer me!"

Finally, he slid the key into the lock and turned. He yanked open the door and stepped inside. Immediately, the stench of blood—and death—filled his head. As his vision adjusted to the shadows, his attention jumped to the motionless body lying on the ground...with blood surrounding his head.

The scene before him was just as Miss Haywood had described, right down to the worn cot covered with a thread-bare blanket.

Bile rose to his throat, and he quickly stumbled out into the corridor. He took in deep breaths, trying to keep from retching. It wasn't the smell that turned his stomach. Instead, it was the fact that someone had killed the prisoner—someone who worked for Metropolitan Police, since the officers were the only ones who had access to the keys. Who could have wanted Mr. Bailey dead?

Would the man's murder make Cameron appear guilty?

Rosie would never forgive him. If he hadn't locked away the man she'd proclaimed to love, that man wouldn't be dead right now.

Worry mixed with confusion filled his head. Had Miss Haywood truly had this vision? Or, was it possible that she was connected with someone here at the police station?

The latter was easier to believe, but even that didn't make much sense to him.

Cameron moved up the corridor, regretting what he had to do next. Sadness and guilt weighed his legs as he struggled to climb the stairs. He must inform Captain Orwood of the murder. Cameron trusted the captain, although he knew his superior would reprimand him for not obeying protocol.

Thoughts swam through his clouded mind as he kept his gaze on the floor, heading toward the captain's office. How was he going to explain the prisoner to the captain? Cameron hadn't exactly followed the rules, which was why not everyone who worked here knew about Mr. Bailey.

He reached the captain's office and stopped. Taking a deep breath for strength, he mentally prepared himself for the task ahead. As he raised his hand to knock, voices from inside the room lifted in anger.

"What do you mean? Are you saying that Westland locked the man in a cell without following procedures?"

"Well, you see, Captain Orwood," the mousey voice squeaked, "Inspector Westland had just wanted to ask Mr. Bailey some questions, but the man was being difficult."