Free Cold Cruel Winter by Chris Nickson Page A

time.
    He could talk to Mr Sedgwick, but he wasn’t even sure where to begin. No one had ever really asked about his life, they didn’t even know where he lived. He simply arrived at the jail each day and did as he was told. Josh knew he was lucky to have a regular wage, to be one of the Constable’s trusted men.
    Frances stirred, and he stroked her cheek.
    â€˜What time is it?’ she asked, her small voice not really awake.
    â€˜Still dark,’ he told her. ‘You go back to sleep. You need your rest now.’
    She closed her eyes and he was struck again by her velvetlike beauty, so meek and fragile.
    â€˜Why are you so good to me?’ Frances wondered.
    He gazed at her and kissed her eyelids softly. He didn’t even really know why himself. Habit, perhaps, or the feeling that someone cared about him, someone he could care about in return.
    She reached out and held his hand in her thin fingers.
    â€˜I love you,’ she told him gently, and drifted away from him. He watched until she settled again, a small smile on her lips. What was she dreaming about? He picked and worried at a loose thread on his shirt. They’d survived the winter, managed to keep food and a fire and fashioned a life together. And a new life, he thought.
    After working he needed sleep, but it wouldn’t come. The night seemed to stretch forever, and dawn was a faint hope. Dark wakefulness gave rise to too many thoughts, a time when the imagination ran all over the mind. They left him uncomfortable; he preferred doing things to thinking. But he knew he had to make decisions, find things out. What would it be like to be a father? What would he do?
    Josh leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He could tell that this murderer scared the boss. Nothing had been said, but he knew anyway. He’d seen Graves’s back, the skin stripped off. He’d seen Nottingham take the slim book from the drawer, look at it, and handle it with distaste. He’d heard as John and the Constable talked quietly, about things they didn’t want him to know. He understood all the same. His mind had made the leap and connected the two things. He’d stayed quiet, not wanting to believe what his eyes told him yet accepting it was the horrific truth.
    Anyone who’d do something like that was more devil than man, Josh decided. Someone who’d stop at nothing to exact his revenge. He’d been out looking and listening, but there’d been no sighting, no whisper about Abraham Wyatt. How could that happen? How could a man carry out a crime like that and disappear? There were plenty of people in the city, that was true, but it wasn’t endless, the way he’d heard London was. Only a devil could vanish . . .
    Frances stirred again, and he reached out to gently take her hand, letting the sound of her breathing lull him to his rest.
    Josh came in, ready to work. He’d looked preoccupied recently, the Constable thought. But he’d been so lost in his own problems that he’d taken no account of the men. As long as they did their work, he’d let them be.
    â€˜I’ve got a job for you,’ he told the boy. ‘Do you know Judge Dobbs?’
    Forrester shook his head.
    â€˜Owns a big house at Town End, the other side of the Head Row. It’s the first one beyond the Free School. Use a couple of the men. I want you to follow him everywhere. Don’t let him know you’re there.’
    â€˜I can do that,’ Josh agreed easily. ‘Why do you want him watched, boss?’
    â€˜I think the man who killed Sam Graves will be going after him. Keep your eyes open for anyone else who seems to be around, anyone at all. If they seem suspicious, bring them here and I’ll question them. This might be our best chance to find Wyatt.’
    â€˜Yes, boss.’
    He gathered up his old greatcoat, so large that it seemed to engulf him.
    â€˜Is everything all right,