Dressed in their crisp uniforms, Cameron stood next to Captain Orwood on Mr. Bailey's front steps. McGreer leaned behind them on his crutch, wearing civilian's clothes. Orwood decided McGreer didn't need to represent an officer this time.

Orwood rang the bell, and they waited quietly for the old servant to answer the door. Cameron fidgeted as his mind thought of questions to ask Langston. By now, the man would know Rosie wasn't in the attic bedroom any longer. And of course, the man should have figured that Rosie would tell her brother who had kept her prisoner. For certain, the man wouldn't be here at all. If roles were reversed, Cameron would have fled town by now.

Finally, the door opened. The same old, near-deaf, servant Cameron had met the other day stood in front of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain took a step forward and cleared his throat.

"We are officers of the Metropolitan Police here investigating a case. Is Mr. Heath Langston at this residence?"

The servant shook his head and leaned his right ear closer. "Eh?"

Orwood quickly repeated it, louder this time.

The servant nodded. "Mr. Langston has been staying here, but he left early this morning. I don't know when he will return."

"Tell me," Cameron quickly added, "did Mr. Langston have baggage with him as though he was leaving for a few days?"

"I believe I did see a bag, sir."

"Nevertheless," the captain said, "we still need to look inside the house. Please stand aside and let us pass."

"What?" the old man asked, crinkling his forehead as he shook his head.

"We need to look inside the house," Cameron answered loudly.

The servant did as requested. The captain strode into the house first, Cameron followed, with McGreer trailing behind. So far everything looked the same as when Cameron was here before, except the rest of the family was not present.

Cameron led the way toward the study. He hoped the cane would still be here, but then why would the killer leave the murder weapon behind? Unless, of course, Heath Langston wasn't that intelligent—or he thought the police investigators were fools.

Once Cameron entered the room, he headed straight back toward the window, the very place Madison had been hiding behind the drapes and had touched the cane. Out of the corner of his eyes, something grabbed his attention. He stopped and focused on the object that looked familiar. Leaning against the wall near the bookcase was the very cane he'd hoped to find.

He quickened his step until he stood in front of it. With his heart beating wildly, he picked up the cane and studied the chipped-off wolf's head. Orwood stopped beside him, dug in his pocket, and pulled out the missing piece. Cameron held out the cane as the captain placed the piece on top.

It fit perfectly!

He breathed a sigh of relief, and suddenly couldn't wait to see Madison again and tell her the wonderful news. Of course, she already knew since she'd had the vision. He would never doubt her again. He wanted to win her heart more than anything in the world.

Orwood swung around and looked at the servant who stood by the door. "Whose cane is this?"

"It's Mr. Gaynor Brailsford's, of course."

Cameron sucked in a quick breath. Gaynor's? It couldn't be... "But isn't this Langston's office?"

The older man shrugged. "Not precisely. As it is, both he and his cousin have been using this room since Jacob Bailey's death. Lord Hanover has yet to name anyone who will inherit Mr. Bailey's holdings."

"Are you certain this is Gaynor's cane?" the captain snapped.

"Yes, sir."

"Does Langston use a cane as well?"

The servant nodded. "Both men have walking canes. Tis the fashion, you know."

"Where is Gaynor Brailsford?" Cameron asked.

"Eh?" The servant leaned an ear toward Cameron.

Grumbling, he fisted his hands, resisting the urge to shake the older man. "Gaynor Brailsford! Where is he?"

The servant flinched and motioned his head toward the front door. "Oh, he's currently out."

Cameron stepped past the captain and closer to the servant. "How long has Gaynor been in this residence?"

"For at least a month, sir."

"How about Mr. Langston?" the captain added.

"About a sennight."

Cameron nodded slowly. So both men were here before Mr. Bailey died. "One more thing," he aimed his question to the servant. "Do you know if there is any place in town that Gaynor frequently visits where I might find him today?"

The servant shrugged. "I suppose any of the pubs would be a good place to start. Gaynor has been down on his luck lately, and so seeks solace at the bottom of a whiskey glass."

Anger grew inside Cameron as he thought of Rosie even having feelings for this drunkard. What would make her choose him over other men? There had to be more to this story than Rosie was telling. Unless, of course, Gaynor lied to her and fed her an elaborate tale about his life just to impress her. At this moment, Cameron wouldn't put that past the imbecile. Hopefully, Rosie wasn't involved in this mess. He'd hate to think his own sister was an accomplice to murder, since she was in love with a killer.

Cameron glanced at the captain and nodded. "Shall we go there next?"

"Indeed, we shall, but let us finish up in here. I want to see if we find anything else."

The officers spent another forty-five minutes inside the house. They didn't obtain any more evidence. Cameron was relieved there wasn't anything of Rosie's here, either. He didn't know how he would be able to explain that.

Soon, they left the estate and rode into town, heading for the closest pub. Cameron itched to get his hands on this man who could sway his sister so easily. Was Rosie so desperate for a man that she would choose anyone? His stomach clenched. It was his own fault, he supposed. He'd kept both sisters from attending any of society's functions, mainly because he knew someone would break their hearts when their father's scandal was brought up. In doing this, he'd purposely turned Alice into a spinster, with Rosie close behind.

He frowned and his heart twisted. He really needed to stop being so overprotective. How else would they find husbands? He couldn't shelter them from the real world forever.

They stopped at the first pub they found. The Boar's Head wasn't as packed as Cameron thought it would be. Then again, it was still early in the day. He did a quick scan around the room and shook his head. Gaynor was not here.

Cameron stepped up to the bar keep. "Do you know Gaynor Brailsford?"

The man stopped wiping down the counter and nodded. "He's been in a time or two."

"Has he been in today?"

"No."

"I thank you for your help." Cameron headed back to the front door, motioning his hand for the other officers to follow.

The second pub they entered held more patrons. Slowly, he scanned the smoky room. The little light it held came from a few lamps, and not from the windows since they were covered in grime. In the back corner, he recognized the man he'd been introduced to as Gaynor Brailsford. The bloke sat at a table by himself, nursing a mug of whiskey. Inwardly Cameron seethed, and itched to wrap his fingers around the scrawny man's neck for putting such crazy notions about eloping into his sister's head.

Cameron glanced over his shoulder at his comrades. "He's here, but let me go first. We don't need to startle him yet."

Orwood and McGreer nodded and stepped back into the shadows. Cameron took a deep breath, praying he wouldn't lose his temper and strangle the man as he'd been thinking.

Slowly, he walked toward the back of the room, keeping his stare on Gaynor. The man didn't seem to notice, but stared into his mug, frowning. Cameron couldn't see why his sister had been so infatuated. Gaynor was not a handsome fellow. In fact, he wasn't even brawny. One word came to Cameron's mind as he studied the other man...simpleton. Indeed, Rosie must have been desperate.

Gaynor didn't lift his eyes until Cameron stopped at his table. The man's eyes widened and he sat up straighter.

"Inspector Westland," he slurred slightly. "I hope you have come to bring me some good news about my cousin's murder."

"I have," Cameron said with a curt tone. "But before I tell you what I found, I have a few questions for you." He sat across from Gaynor, mainly so that he wouldn't see the other two officers spying on him. "I want to know what plans you have with my sister, Rosie."

The man's bushy eyebrows lifted. "You know?"

Cameron bunched his hands under the table. "Rosie told me."

Gaynor rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Do you know where she is?"

Confusion filled his mind, and he shook away the cloud. "Of course. She's my sister, isn't she?"

"But I was told she was missing."

"You were told that? Pray, how did you not know she was being held against her will right under Mr. Bailey's roof?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play the dimwit with me, Brailsford. I know Langston locked her in the attic. My question is, what did you and your scheming cousin want with keeping her locked up?"

"You must be mistaken." He scrubbed a hand over his hairy chin. "Don't you think I would have known if Rosie had been in that house?"

"Yes, I would think so, but since that is where I had rescued her from the other night, I'm wondering what really happened."

Gaynor's expression appeared blank. Cameron didn't know if the man was a talented performer, or if it was the alcohol making him look so innocent.

"I assure you, Westland, I didn't know."

"As much as I would love for you to tell me the real story, at least I'll rest easily from now on knowing you will never be able to get your hands on her again."

The man's face tightened and his gaze narrowed. He raked his fingers through his unkempt hair. "If you think to keep me from the woman I love—"

"Oh, I don't think I can do that. I know I can." Cameron stood and glared down at the man. "Gaynor Brailsford, you are under arrest for the murder of Jacob Bailey."

A loud gasp sprang from the man's throat as he jumped to his feet. The chair he'd been sitting on toppled over. His face lost color and he swayed, but quickly grasped the table to keep from ending on the floor beside the chair.

"What? You think I killed my cousin?"

"Once again, Gaynor, I don't think anything." He withdrew the iron cuffs from his belt. "I know you did."

Gaynor swore under his breath and shoved Cameron aside. Thankfully, he was prepared for this and jumped at him, knocking the man to the ground. As Gaynor struggled beneath him, Cameron brought the puny man's arms behind his back and clamped on the iron cuffs.

There was nothing more thrilling than knowing he caught the criminal and locked him away. Satisfaction filled him, as did relief. Thanks to that wonderful woman, Madison Haywood, he'd not only found his sister, but caught a killer.