The Lost Girl of Astor Street

“I was walking back from the train station, and I saw the car take off. An armored Model T, custom job. I might’ve known just from that, but the Finnegans . . . they’re as dumb as they are ugly. On the bottom corner of the door, they’ve got the two lions with the sword. And that red sticks out like a sore thumb. You can’t help but notice it.”


“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“It’s the Finnegan family crest. Look it up. They think they can be flashy gangsters like others have been and get away with it. They seem to forget—or maybe they just don’t care—that the flashy ones get gunned down. They’re idiots.”

I shudder. “Dangerous idiots.”

“But you’re a smart girl, right, doll?” His fingers seem to press even deeper into my flesh. I hold in a cry of pain. “You know that it’s in your best interest to keep this between us.”

A threat—that I better not see him within ten feet of Sidekick—sits on my tongue.

“Piper.” My name is sharp, like the rap on a snare drum, and Walter glowers at the two of us. “I think it’s time that we leave.”

David Barrow releases me and glares at Walter. “You’d be smart to keep a leash on her.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Walter’s fingers grasp my arm and pull me toward the exit like a disobedient child. “I think you’ve stirred up enough trouble.”




“If you want me to stop treating you like a child, then maybe you should stop acting like one,” Walter snarls as he pulls shut the car door. “Do you have any idea how scared I was at the table? Here I’m trying to help you out, and I find you cornered by that awful man.”

“I was getting information—”

“Somebody needs to tell you that you’re out of line, Piper.” Walter’s words roar out of him. “Your father is too ignorant, your brothers too distracted, and Mariano too smitten. You’re acting like what you’re doing won’t have real consequences, but it will, and I’m trying desperately to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe!” It’s good that we’re alone in the car, because I can’t control my volume anymore.

“Yes, you do. Because you’re so far in this, you don’t even realize how dangerous it could be.”

The adrenaline from being cornered by David Barrow, from fleeing the speakeasy, has worn off, and my limbs set to trembling. Even when I curl my legs up under me and cross my arms over my chest, I can’t seem to stop the rattling.

“I know how you loved Lydia.” Walter’s voice has softened. “I understand it makes you crazy to not know what happened to her. But can’t you see how crazy it makes me to think the same thing might happen to you? I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

I stare out the front of the car, at the people on the sidewalk busy laughing and talking. Out for a fun night in a city that teems with danger. “Do you remember a few years ago, when you ran into the fence chasing down a fly ball? And I was so mad at you for injuring yourself to make a play?”

“I do.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

Walter shakes his head.

“You said that you didn’t know any other way to play the game except to give it all. To leave it all on the field.” I turn to him. “That’s how I feel about Lydia. I don’t know how to do anything else but leave it all on the field.”

He only looks at me.

Other words sit on my tongue. I want to tell Walter about the Finnegans. About how Mr. Barrow—the lowlife—threatened my dog. But Walter doesn’t want to hear that, does he? He wants me to go back to who I was before Lydia was killed. When Ms. Underhill and her ruler were my greatest fears.

I love Walter, so I pick a shade of the truth. “I’m starving.”

He turns the key, and the Ford rumbles to life. “Then let’s eat.”

And he seems content to pretend the whole thing never happened.





CHAPTER


NINETEEN


It’s undeniable that Jane makes a beautiful bride. Her raven hair gleams under the white veil as she turns toward us. Her mother and sisters gasp, and even my mouth falls open.

“Oh, Janie.” Her mother adjusts how the veil drapes over her daughter’s shoulders. “You’re radiant.”

Resentment falls like a hammer, having nothing to do with Jane being almost my stepmother, but rather with the way her mother looks at her on her wedding day. With Mother and Lydia gone, who will care enough to fawn over me when my turn comes?

A knock sounds on the bedroom door. “Piper?”

Never has Walter’s voice been so welcome.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Jane’s family as I rush away.

“Careful in your dress,” Jane calls after me.

I open the bedroom door just wide enough to slip through, and I grin up at Walter as I close it behind me. “Thank you,” I whisper. “It was ridiculous in there.”

Walter’s gaze travels my peach dress, made of silk and heavy with beads, and down to my strappy, toe-pinching shoes. “I’m not sure I would’ve even recognized you like this. You look so . . .” He waves his hand, as if that’s sufficient for completing his thought.

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