“Nathaniel, wait!” she called, lifting her skirt to hurry down the sidewalk. There was no break in his stride as he kept walking, but she was at last able to close the distance between them.

“Wait,” she panted when she was only a few paces behind. She tugged at his elbow and forced him to slow down. “How are you doing?” she asked as she drew alongside him.

“Busy,” he replied. “I meet with a lawyer at noon to draft the federal arrest warrants. We’ll start rounding people up soon.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

There was no change in his expression as he kept striding ahead, talking without looking at her. “Wilkie is being difficult, but all I need is one judge. Just one judge willing to sign those warrants. I’ll arrest them all—the anarchists, the publishers of the radical press, even the people who organized that rally in Cleveland. They’ve all got blood on their hands.”

This harsh, angry side of Nathaniel was alarming. She slid her hand down his arm and wrapped her fingers around his palm.

“But how are you doing?” she pressed.

“I’m fine. I’ll be better when Emma Goldman and the rest of her ilk are in jail.”

She stopped, still grasping his hand and making him stop as well. He kept staring straight ahead, so she positioned herself to look squarely into his face. They were alone, and no one could hear them.

“Nathaniel, look at me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

He turned his face away to stare somewhere across the street. A gust of wind buffeted some fallen autumn leaves, and he waited until they fell to the cobblestones before he finally spoke, his voice so soft that she could barely hear it.

“I can’t bear to see her.”

“Mrs. McKinley?” Maybe this was why he’d made himself scarce. Except for the few hours she’d been allowed to visit the president, Ida had been constantly in Caroline’s presence.

He gave the barest of nods. “For as long as I live, I’ll never be able to look her in the face again.”

“She doesn’t blame you.”

His gaze turned cynical. He didn’t need to speak, for the agony in his eyes made it apparent he blamed himself and always would. Caroline opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to ease his pain.

“I need to go meet with that judge,” he said, pulling away and stepping around her to continue his journey.

She watched his back as he walked away, fearing this tragedy had broken him in a way she could not fix.