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Chapters (206)
  1. Praise for Maplecroft
  2. Title page
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
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I refused to believe that Lizzie had drowned, though she looked drowned enough when I hauled her onto the pier. She’s a little thing, but even little things are heavy as stones when wet, even when they don’t fight you.

I have always been a good swimmer—and I’ve always enjoyed it—but I am older now, and not as strong as I once was.

I do not know what she saw, when she leaped off the tall rocks and went headlong into the water. Nance, I must assume. I didn’t see her, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there.

I wished for more light and more time, but all I had was the thundering sky and the flashing, inconstant illumination of the lightning that never quite struck; and all I had was the time it took Lizzie to be sucked out away from the rocks, to the edge of the pier. I pulled off my coat as I ran, kicked off my shoes before I jumped, dove into the ocean, and drew myself toward the last place I’d seen her.

She hadn’t gone far. I felt her before I saw her.

I caught her by the head—my fingers brushing what felt like seaweed. I wrenched her upright by a great tangle of her hair, out of the water, and I towed her back to the ladder, then hauled her up it.

She was so full of water.

The ocean poured out from her nose and mouth, and when I thought she couldn’t possibly give up another drop, I sat her upright and squeezed her from behind. My arms were better leverage that way; and then, yes, more fluid spilled out from her mouth, so it must have been the right thing to do. Finally, I laid her back down again and checked her eyes. They had rolled back, showing too much white . . . but her lashes flickered, bucking against my probing fingers, and I was encouraged.

“Lizbeth!” I shouted her preferred name, and I slapped at her cheeks and gave up on the preferred nonsense and went for the more familiar. “Lizzie, answer me! You must answer me!”

She did answer—with a terrific intake of breath that transformed into ferocious coughing. She pulled away from me, and on her hands and knees she coughed up more, and then vomited, and then finally breathed. It was uneven, damaged breathing; the air raked back and forth out of her chest, but she was breathing.

“Where’s . . .” She gargled the word.

“Nance is gone,” I told her bluntly. Now was not the time for false reassurances or platitudes. “And Zollicoffer is coming. He’s coming to Maplecroft, coming for your sister,” I added, uncertain if that would spur her to action or give her pause. Their relationship had so clearly become . . . complicated. The Problem complicated it. Nance complicated it. For that matter, maybe I did, too.

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