We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [99]
Why would Allie say that if it were not true? And why had Cavan confirmed it? She sat on the edge of the cot and read through it all again, some in her own hand, some in Joseph’s. Note by note, it was clear that Cavan and Allie were lying; the orderlies’ stories fit in with everything else. She could not believe that Cavan, of all people, was guilty, even if, according to several people, he had known Sarah and at times laughed and joked with her, and perhaps a little bit more. She was easy to like—if you did not witness her cruelty—and she asked for nothing in return. She was not seeking any kind of commitment. That’s what he had implied.
Dreading the answers, Judith forced herself to find Cavan and ask him. He was in the Operating tent, and she had to wait. Finally he came out into the Resuscitation tent, his arms still bloody and his hair wet where he had dashed water over his face to keep himself awake. Judith felt guilty for bothering him, but Schenckendorff had to be saved, and Lizzie’s grief was far worse than any brief embarrassment Cavan might experience.
Cavan smiled. He looked pleased to see her.
“I’ve been talking to Allie,” she said straightaway.
“She’s a good nurse,” he responded, but his attention was directed toward the man just brought in, who was not yet stirring from unconsciousness.
She looked at Cavan and decided it was best to speak bluntly. “Why did you let Allie lie to protect you at the time Sarah was killed?”
He stiffened and turned around slowly. His face was pale, and there was a very clear flare of anger in his heavy-lidded eyes. “Just who do you think you are, questioning people like this?” he said abruptly. “It’s none of your business, Judith. I put up with a certain amount when your brother was accused, but now it’s just some German, and you are overstepping yourself.”
“Probably,” she said tartly, stung by his coldness. “If you prefer me to go and tell Jacobson, I can. Allie lied, and you didn’t say anything, so in effect you lied also. I understand lying. I do it myself to protect those I care for, especially if I believe absolutely in their innocence. But I won’t see an innocent man hanged, German or British or anything else. Either tell me or tell Jacobson. The choice is yours.”
He was angry, very angry. She had not seen it in him before and it startled her, but she refused to back down.
“Allie is protecting me,” he said icily. “I was exhausted and took a few minutes outside alone to collect myself. I didn’t say she lied because I was grateful, and I didn’t want to get her into trouble. I don’t know if your self-righteousness can understand that or have any pity.”
The word pity struck a spark in her mind. Suddenly she understood something she should have seen before. Allie Robinson was in love with Cavan, and he did not feel the same for her. He knew it and was ashamed. Perhaps he had allowed her to misunderstand a word, a gesture, during long watches over the wounded or the dying. It was this guilt that made him so angry. This terrible need to not be alone, to reach out to some human comfort, was not the same as love, at least not love between a man and a woman. But the illusion of love could spring from it, and the aching, devouring hunger.
“I see,” she said gently. “Yes, I understand. Thank you. Did anyone else know you were outside?”
His look softened. Something else showed in his eyes for a moment, a warmth that flared and died almost before she recognized it. “Not so far as I know.”
The night was drawing in. It was long past the equinox, and by late afternoon an autumn sun burned orange across the northwest. Veils of rain smudged gray, driving in hard and cold. Matthew, Joseph, and Judith sat on the two cots. Judith had told them what she had learned.
Joseph chewed his lip. “So we have accounted for everyone except Cavan, Benbow, and Barshey