We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [80]
And she knew this because she had been there herself, not where she said she’d been when she’d lied to protect Wil Sloan.
How many other people were lying to protect someone they knew, trusted, and were convinced, beyond even the remotest question, was innocent? And one of them was wrong!
She sat motionless and cold, exhausted by the hopeless tangle of it. Matthew and Joseph had even talked of the possibility of Matthew racing back to London and trying to persuade Shearing to intervene, claim some sort of intelligence coup that would override even the needs of justice. But how could they persuade Shearing that Schenckendorff was legitimate, that Dermot Sandwell was the Peacemaker, and that he was on the brink of sabotaging the armistice agreement? They were not even sure themselves.
There was a sound of light footsteps outside, and the sacking moved. “May I come in?” It was Lizzie’s voice, tight and weary.
Judith looked up. “Of course.” Then instantly she regretted it. She liked Lizzie—everything about her was individual, strong and candid, quite often unexpectedly funny—but just now she had no patience for anyone else. Her mind was eaten up with endless, fruitless anxiety.
“What is it?” she asked as Lizzie came down the steps and let the sacking fall closed behind her. Judith stood up. In the light of the one lamp Lizzie was white-faced, almost haggard. She sat down on the cot as if not certain her legs would support her much longer.
“They’re saying that the German will be taken away in a day or so,” she said hoarsely. “What will they do with him?”
“Try him, and then hang him,” Judith replied. The words hurt to say; there was a despair in them that she had not fully acknowledged before.
“Hanged?” Lizzie whispered. She tried to swallow and could not. Her mouth was too dry. “But…”
“They believe he is guilty of a terrible crime,” Judith said harshly. “Someone raped Sarah with a bayonet and hacked her to death. Nobody’s saying that, because they’re trying to keep it quiet—stop the panic, or the revenge. But it’s true. Then they left her lying like a whore, legs wide, in among the refuse. Don’t you think whoever did that deserves to hang?”
“If you hang someone, and then discover you were wrong…” Lizzie’s voice faded away and she sat down suddenly, her eyes wide and hollow, as if she were looking inward at something unbearable.
Was it possible Joseph had broken his secrecy and told her about Schenckendorff and the Peacemaker? Judith sat on the other bunk and leaned forward. “Lizzie…”
It was as if Lizzie could not hear her.
“Lizzie,” she repeated urgently, “did Joseph tell you that—” She stopped. At the mention of Joseph’s name Lizzie had winced. The movement was almost too small to see, but it was as if the misery inside her had increased. Why would she feel such desperate pain if they exposed the Peacemaker, or if they failed? Did Lizzie know more of the truth than they did? Judith refused to believe that. Lizzie was exactly what she seemed to be. She must not allow the Peacemaker and the suspicions he awoke to poison everything.
Lizzie sat frozen, her knuckles white. Very gently Judith put her hand over Lizzie’s without closing it. “I think you’d better tell me. Is Schenckendorff guilty?”
Lizzie shook her head so slightly it was barely a movement at all.
“Are you sure?” Judith asked.
“Yes.” It was forced, as if her throat was raw.
“Who is?”
“I don’t know.” Lizzie met Judith’s eyes at last. “I really don’t. I have no idea. It just isn’t Schenckendorff.”
“If you don’t know who it is, how can you know it isn’t him?” Judith asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Lizzie did not answer.
Judith waited. The bunker was silent, nothing moved. Outside boots squelched in the ruts of mud and voices came from far away.
At last Lizzie took a deep, hollow breath and let it out very slowly, then another. “Because someone else was raped before Schenckendorff came through the lines.”
“Someone else! Are you sure?” Then with a sudden shock,