Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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It may come to that, eventually. I’d be willing, if they’d be willing to have me. This house of mine has gone cold, filthy, and quiet these last few months. I miss my wife. I miss the cat we used to keep, the one that disappeared a few weeks after its mistress died. I miss having a fire in the hearth, one that I did not start myself, at the end of a long day.
But is this enough reason to impose on the Maplecroft women? Probably not.
Still, I feel that we are getting closer, together—the three of us, making progress on this terrible affliction that seems to be spread farther and wider than I’d previously expected. At the northern end of the state there have been other cases, as I described . . . and the incidents are closing in on us. Coming at us from above and below, or from the north and from the ocean beside us, too—crushing us in the middle.
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Here’s a stray thought, one that’s been jangling around between my ears: What does this all have to do with the water?
The sample Emma sent Doctor Zollicoffer . . . it came from the ocean. And now he seems to be coming back toward the ocean, back to the place from whence it originated. Back to Fall River, and to the woman who picked it off the rocks and mailed it to him.
What if this is some sort of homecoming for the poor deranged fool?
Or a more horrible question still: What if he is not deranged? What if he knows precisely what he intends, and is bent toward it with precision and malice, and (what is reported to be) a keen intellect?
Surely, I am asking the wrong questions. No one could commit such acts of atrocity and still be deemed sane, regardless of his apparent clarity. But I’m finding my way toward the right questions.
Maybe. I think.
Courtesy of the Maplecroft crew, as I’m coming to think of us collectively . . . I have compiled a list of symptoms and cross-referenced them with my own notes, from the cases I’ve seen about town. I’ve also noted that in my recollections of these cases (in the previous weeks) one could almost make the case that my own mind has been slipping, too.
I worry myself, when I read those entries. I sound like a man on a precipice.
But no longer. I am returned, restored, and ready to solve this mystery. I hope we can solve it in time to save Nance, or if not her, then the rest of the town. Maybe the rest of the world, for all I know.
We must at least begin with Nance.