“That’s really quite horrible,” Grace said, closing her eyes against the picture he’d drawn.

“It’s true,” Thornhollow insisted. “This discovery throws off everything we thought we knew.”

“You’re certainly not putting together a compelling argument to make me want to return to this,” Grace said, pointing to the board. “This is its own kind of madness.”

“I know it,” the doctor agreed, returning to his chair. “And all to see my own pet theories proven, to capture criminals in order to vindicate this new science.”

“This is where we’re different, Doctor,” Grace said quietly, her fingers tracing their chalk notes. “We both look upon things that no one should see and yet we do not flinch. I see the blood and think of the person it’s leaving while your mind is only on the one who spilled it. My thoughts are on the people and yours the puzzle.”

“And that is exactly why I need you.”

TWENTY-NINE

The late-evening sunlight slanted in through the windows of the women’s dining hall, illuminating every dust mote and bringing a false sense of warmth to the room. Elizabeth pulled her wrap closer around her and leaned over the table toward Grace.

“Would you like a game of checkers before dinner?”

Grace nodded, grateful to find something to do other than wait for the announcement that food was ready. Though the winter daylight hours were so few, she was hard-pressed to fill them. Lizzie went to a cupboard and drew out the game board.

“This set is missing a few of the red ones, as Mrs. Neckard ate three when she lost last week to Miss Payne. But I’d like a game all the same. I was getting pretty good, if I may say so. Nell and I, we used to play a lot but . . .”

Elizabeth’s voice faded out as it often did whenever their lost friend was mentioned. “Sorry, Grace. I knew her for so long. It’s hard when all the little things are still there but she’s not.”

Grace understood too well. Nell’s room had held all her things, the bed neatly made, hair ribbons laid out in flat rows on her stand. Yet Nell was gone, her body never recovered, while her room looked as if it awaited her return any moment.

“I’ll be black, if you don’t mind,” Elizabeth said, unfolding the board. “I think you’re quick enough to play minus three pieces and still beat me.”

Grace smiled and began lining up her checkers as other women filtered into the dining hall. She moved a piece forward and Elizabeth hovered over the board, tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrated.

“Janey is worried about you,” Lizzie said as she made her move. “Said she doesn’t know whether she should knock on your door the next time Thornhollow sends for you, or tell him to go pound sand.”

Grace only shrugged and made her next move. She hadn’t decided herself what she would do.

“I don’t know what to think about it, myself,” Elizabeth said, squinting at the board. “But having a purpose does seem to make the time go faster, am I right? Our checker game is making dinner come closer every second, and we’re not sitting here thinking about how hungry we are. We’re thinking about checkers. Or at least I am.”

Grace ignored the tremor in her hand as she made her next move, thinking that having a purpose was exactly what she needed.

Grace was in the carriage the next time she was summoned. Her blank stare sliding over her features the moment she exited, Thornhollow handing her down like royalty to a macabre parade. Davey’s eyes glanced off hers and back again as she and Thornhollow made their joint assessment of another murder that hardly required their presence, another lover’s quarrel ended badly.

“Honestly,” Thornhollow huffed as the carriage door swung shut behind him. “Why do people bother to fall in love? I’ve never seen it bring anything but pain.”

“You hardly spend time in places that happy couples frequent,” Grace reminded him, burying her hands in her wrap to warm them.

“Mmmmm . . .” He looked out the window, thoughts following the same scattered path as the blowing snow. “How is Lizzie holding up? It’s been two months. I worry that she’s not eating enough.”

“I watch her at dinner. She eats enough to keep her going,” Grace said. “I think she’s all right, but she has her dark days. When Joanna moved into Nell’s room it was difficult.”

The new girl had arrived along with a blizzard that trapped them all indoors for a week, her presence reminding them that Nell would never come back. Janey had divvied Nell’s hair ribbons among Grace, Elizabeth, and Rebecca, keeping one for herself. Nell’s clothes had been taken to the poorhouse after being boiled, the sheets stripped and the bed made ready for the next unfortunate, who turned out to be a scratcher.

“Keep your eyes on that one, girls,” Janey had warned Grace and Lizzie as she swept past them one day, bloodied furrows on her forearms. “I don’t want any of you peaceful ones ripped to shreds.”

Joanna had ended up in leather mitts that prevented her from hurting others, but she vented her frustrations by pounding them against the wall hard enough to send plaster trickling down onto Grace’s pillow.

“And how are you? I can’t help but notice you aren’t yourself lately.”

“I’m fine,” Grace said a little too quickly. “You’ll not need to put me back in the padded room.”

“I wasn’t inferring that I would,” Thornhollow said. “Or that it would be necessary. Quite the opposite, actually. You seem to have little room for your emotions these days.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard it,” Grace said irritably. They fell quiet as the carriage rattled over the brick streets of town and Grace bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I didn’t mean to snap. The new girl has made our floor a little less welcoming. I don’t think I’ve slept the night through since she arrived.”

“Mmmmm . . . ,” the doctor said again, his gaze riveted on the blank pane of the window. “Grace, would you like to meet my sister?”

“I . . .” Grace tried to make out his face in the darkness of the carriage. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Oddly enough,” he said. “Like all other humans, I was born from a mother and like many of my kind I’m not the only person she gave birth to. In short, yes, I have a sister. Would you like to meet her?”

“Yes, I think I would,” Grace said. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because it’s winter, and it brings a person down. You and I both have had some harsh strokes played against us lately. I’ve taken to long walks despite the cold. A change of scenery can do wonders for the mood, and it occurred to me the other day that you might benefit from that as well. This thought came along with a letter from my sister saying that we should spend some time together.”

“That you ‘should spend some time together’? It hardly sounds like she’s looking forward to it.”

“I assure you neither one of us is,” Thornhollow said as they rattled onto the gravel driveway toward home. “But my sister doesn’t respond well to rejection. I’ve reserved myself some rooms in town so that I can get out of the asylum for a bit myself. Of course, I can only spirit you away for one evening, but I thought you might like an opportunity to speak freely with someone other than me. Another woman, especially.”

“So I can be myself?” Grace asked.

They pulled into the roundabout, the gas lamps from the portico turning each snowflake into a brilliant meteor. “You shouldn’t be Grace Mae, specifically, no. If we simply present you as a girl who was removed from unfortunate circumstances and now assists me, I think that will be sufficient. I can’t promise a lovely evening, but I can promise that you won’t have to listen to Joanna tearing out a supporting wall. My sister arrives tomorrow evening. Will you join us?”