We did not make it but twenty steps before I saw them: three constables wearing dark blue coats, walking straight toward us, their faces grim. One of them carried a rod in his hand, as though the shadows of the alley scared him, and I could faintly make out a scar across his left cheek.

Eliza must have seen the men at the same time—for, without speaking a word or exchanging a glance, we began to run. Together we instinctively headed south toward the river, away from them, our sharp breaths in harmony with one another.

28

Caroline

Present day, Wednesday

As the officer unlatched the handcuffs from his belt, a cell phone rang from somewhere in the small room. I remained frozen, waiting for one of the officers to answer it, then the hazy disorientation cleared from my brain; the phone ringing was mine.

“It might be about James,” I said, lunging for my purse, not caring if the officers tried to slap the cuffs on me before I could answer it. “Please, let me take it.” I put the phone to my ear, bracing for the worst. “Hello?”

On the other end of the line was a cheery, if not slightly concerned, voice. “Caroline, hey, it’s Gaynor. I’m just calling to check on things. Is your husband doing okay?”

God, what a dear she was. If only the timing wasn’t so terrible. The lead officer watched me closely, bouncing his foot lightly on his knee. “Hi, Gaynor,” I replied, my voice stiff. “Things are okay. I have—” I paused, aware that my every word was being closely monitored, maybe even recorded. “I’m dealing with a situation right now, but I promise I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

I gazed at the nearest officer, the one with handcuffs out and ready. My eyes fell on his badge affixed to his left hip: a sign of his position, his authority. Suddenly, like a rush of fresh air in the room, it dawned on me that Gaynor’s position at the library might work in my favor.

“Actually, Gaynor...” I pushed the phone harder to my ear “...perhaps you could help me with something.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Anything.”

“I’m at St. Bartholomew’s,” I told her, drawing an odd look from the officers.

“The hospital? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m on the third floor, near the critical care unit. Could you possibly make your way over here? It’s quite a long story, but I’ll explain when I can.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll head that way in a few.”