“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Patrick’s never hurt anybody. Patrick don’t hurt people.”

She motioned at him to go away, Alice’s letter fluttering in her hands. He ignored her, eyes drawn to the paper.

“What have you got? What is it?” He came closer and Grace dodged to the side, ready to run for the asylum. He snagged her wrist and bent it, plucking the letter from her numb hand in an instant.

“From a lover? Is it? From a man?” His eyes roamed the pages, and Grace felt her panic dissolving into rage as he followed a line with one huge finger, mouth moving with the words.

She ran at him, but he moved quickly, holding the pages above his head and dancing out of the way as she grabbed for them.

“She wants it back, yes she does. She wants it,” he sang. Grace tore at his arm but he lifted her whole frame, swinging her in the air easily. She kicked at his shin and he yelled, dropping her near the base of the willow. Grace grabbed a broken branch from the ground, whirling to stab at him with the sharp point. He sidestepped her lunge, laughing as he tore one of the pages in half, lifting the shreds to the wind.

Grace screamed, the sound tearing through the cold air and following the ripped pages as they blew out over the lake. She went after him again, no feint in her stab as she drove at him. Footsteps were running down the path but she ignored them, her entire being bent on getting what was left of Alice’s letter back even if it meant impaling her tormentor. Strong hands grabbed her before she could do it, and she was wrestled to the ground, her stick tossed out of her reach.

“Patrick!” a male nurse yelled as he squared off against the patient. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Me?” he asked, hands in the air where the single page still fluttered. He curled it up quickly, popping it into his mouth. “I ain’t doib nuffin.”

Thornhollow had flipped the blackboard to the clean side on more than one occasion. But two new murders had brought nothing more compelling than a son anxious to inherit sooner than nature intended and an inconveniently pregnant girl whose lover had turned himself in at the station only hours later.

“There’s nothing here,” the doctor bemoaned, as he flipped the board back to the doll killer. “There’s no real work involved in finding any of these people, especially when they’re boring enough to turn themselves in. It’s a fairly bleak time when I find my protégé attacking people with sticks a welcome diversion.”

Grace didn’t comment from her seat by the fire, her feet tucked under a blanket. Patrick had been disciplined for taunting her, and Janey had gravely informed Grace she’d had to make a note in her file about possible violent tendencies, but nothing stung like the loss of Alice’s letter.

Thornhollow sighed when she didn’t answer, his eyes drawn back to the board. “Yes, I believe the winter may be dulling us all. But this man . . .” His voice wavered, almost verging on admiration. “This man I’d like to meet.”

“It seems unlikely,” Grace said. “Even if we count Mellie as his work, it’s been weeks.”

“I know it,” the doctor mused, eyes roaming the board. “And why would that be? We’ve only spotted two of his victims, and them somewhat close together. There’s not enough to establish a pattern.”

“There’s not much of a pattern when our killer has stopped killing,” Grace said.

“He can’t have stopped,” Thornhollow said over his shoulder. “I’ve told you. A man like that doesn’t indulge in a passion and then move on.”

“What if it’s exactly that? What if he has, in fact, moved on?”

“It’s possible,” the doctor acknowledged. “But I’ve been keeping tabs on the medical men, and they’re all still in practice. None of them have died, either. I’d have noticed.”

“You’ve had an eye on them all this time, even when we saw them face-to-face and you were sure our theory was wrong?”

“Off,” Thornhollow corrected, a finger in the air. “Our theory is off, not wrong. I may have made a mistake or two in guessing how our man would react to you, Grace, but that doesn’t unravel all the threads.”

“Well then,” Grace said, joining him by the board. “Let me review. We’re looking for someone familiar with ether who is strong enough to hold a girl against her will long enough for it to act. He may be healthy physically but he’s unable to be intimate with a woman, possibly connected to the idea that he had an overbearing mother. He’s intelligent but socially awkward, perhaps mostly with women.”

She thought a moment, hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but we could be talking about you.”

“I’m offended. You’ve never met my mother,” he said. “One other thing makes me unfit for the profile, but we need not get into that.”

Grace rolled her eyes but let the comment pass. “Our visit to the brothel only solidified the idea that a doctor is at work here. And if, as you say, none of the locals have moved practice or died, I suppose this leaves us with nothing more than to wait. And watch, although it sounds as if you’re doing that rather thoroughly.”

“And not just the local medicals, Grace,” Thornhollow said, his eyes not meeting hers. “I have some news from Boston.”

Grace’s knees were suddenly weak, her vision fuzzy on the edges. “Is it Alice?” Her voice barely made it past her lips, her treacherous throat closing on itself.

“No, nothing like that. Grace, please sit down.” His hands were on her shoulders, and she leaned into him gratefully, all her strength sapped at the mere mention of her birthplace. Thornhollow set her back in the chair by the fire and returned with a glass of amber liquid.

“Is it that bad?” Grace asked, taking the drink and sniffing it cautiously.

“No danger has come to your sister, I know that is your main concern,” he said, standing in front of her to gauge her reactions to his words. “After I learned that you were in correspondence with Falsteed, I began to take the Boston papers. I agree that Heedson’s mouth is forever shut to protect his own skin and that both Falsteed and Reed are more than trustworthy. However, the efficacy of a secret is strained thin the more people who are drawn into it, and I thought it best to stay apprised of news in Boston.”

“If not for Alice I’d be happy to never hear of that place again,” Grace said, taking a drink. It burned a path down her throat and heated her belly, bringing a false relaxation in its wake that was welcome nonetheless.

“I quite agree,” Thornhollow continued. “But both our pasts are anchored there. Your father is a highly prominent man. Heedson, as the head of a major medical facility, does merit mention from time to time in the papers, and I thought it best to be aware of their movements. If Heedson were to suddenly be replaced, your father to travel unexpectedly, any indication that their normal lives were disrupted could indicate that tongues may have loosened and our secret was a secret no more.”

“And?” Grace’s hands went to her scars, fingers massaging the smooth skin there for the comfort it brought.

“And there’s no reason to think either of us is in any danger.”

Relief swelled along with exasperation as Grace swallowed another mouthful of her drink. “Really, Doctor. I know that you’re not terribly good with people, but you need to learn how to deliver news so as not to needlessly—”

“Your father is coming here, Grace.”

“What?” Her grip on the glass loosened, and it wobbled along with her quickened heartbeat. “You said there was no danger.”

“And there is not,” Thornhollow insisted, dropping to his knees in front of her chair. “Grace, I assure you if I thought for one second that man suspected you were alive, I’d put us both on a ship and damn what people would say.”

“Then why would he come here, if not because he was following us?”

“Unfortunately, like most disagreeable things in the world the answer is politics. Your father is campaigning for the presidential ticket. You’ve seen for yourself that the grounds are open to the public, and the formal ballroom falls under the same banner. The asylum offers work for half the town, and a lovely place for the rich to gather so that the employed ones can serve them. It seems that when I brought you to the only place that could offer safety, I never considered that it’s in a river-and-railroad town in a swing state before an election year.”