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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
  206. •   •   •

I kept my breathing shallow, lest I suck in any more of the disgusting air than I absolutely had to . . . and I strolled about, trying to be an observant and useful partner to Wolf, but mostly just wanting to take off my clothes and fling myself into the nearest supply of clean water.

I wandered to the door, and to the window beside it. The glass was murky, like everything else, and when I ran the side of my thumb along the nearest edge of the pane, it came away black. Almost as if it were the stain of old soot, or the residue of a place where men too often smoked. But that was a silly thought, wasn’t it? Smoke and fire, in a place all but destroyed with damp. It wasn’t quite right, and I knew it.

I can only talk my way around these things. There is so little that can be precisely said. The room was chilly, perhaps sixty degrees. (I wished for a thermometer, but didn’t have one handy and didn’t see one in the store.) The bloodstains were approximately three square feet, and four square feet, respectively. Wolf’s measuring tape would tell us more firmly.

•   •   •

(Edited to note—my guesses were good. I was only half a foot off in one case, and a quarter foot in the other.)

I am at such a loss, without numbers to enter and symptoms to record. Unless that’s what I’m doing, in this roundabout way, as I keep these journals and record the day’s proceedings. I might be thinking about the situation too broadly.

Wolf has his own notes, of course. I might ask to see them, in order to better flesh out my own research.

•   •   •

To return to my point, I stood by the door, by the window. And again I looked down into the barrel of odds and ends that Matthew so diligently filled, unto his last days. Same as before it was overflowing, with the excess deposited into buckets, jugs, and cups. No longer a barrel of goods—the goods had overtaken the space, and now acquired other spaces nearby in which to collect, and to spread.

The goods had become a veritable colony.

•   •   •

What a strange thing to write down. I’m not certain why I’ve done so, but there it is. That was what I thought, and how I felt. That’s what I remember of it, and the rest is frankly foggy, but I need to stay on my toes and record it all to the best of my ability, so I don’t forget it later.

I stood there, by the barrel, by the colony of glittery glass bits and shimmering shells, and I felt distinctly like I was forgetting something . . . forgetting everything, slowly. Like as I lingered, my attention was being drained from my body, a very slow leak, as from a balloon, and my awareness was sinking, dropping, falling.