Page 115 of A Whisper and a Curse

“The police will find you,” Hadrian said.

“Don’t, Hadrian,” Tilda snapped. If Crocker heard there was no hope of escape, he may very well shoot her now. “He doesn’t care what you have to say. Crocker, you will escape much more quickly if you aren’t holding onto me. We won’t come after you. Release me and run.”

Tilda didn’t want to let the man go, but it was their best option in the current situation. The police would catch him.

Crocker moved backward, carrying Tilda with him. “I don’t think I can let you live,” he whispered so that Hadrian couldn’t hear him. “You should not have come here. There is no reason for you to die.”

“You just said there was.” Tilda hoped to keep him talking to perhaps distract him. “But youcanrelease me.”

“You’ll tell them all what I’ve done. I still have time to escape. I’ll leave London. Mayhap, I’ll leave England altogether. Mercy said she wanted to visit New England. The spiritualism movement is strong there.”

Hadrian emerged from the room as Crocker backed them up to the railing overlooking the hall below. Tilda glanced to the left and saw poor Tuttle hanging farther along the railing.

Crocker pressed the knife into her flesh. She didn’t think he broke the skin, but the blade was close to doing so.

“Cut her and I will tear you apart,” Hadrian snarled, his pistol half raised.

Mallory came from the room and stood next to Hadrian, who must have untied him.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Crocker shouted, making Tilda flinch. “Allof you. Mercy and I had it all sorted, then Mallory went and gave my position as medium here to Tuttle. Why would you do that? It was my turn!”

“Because you’re a terrible medium,” Mallory said without pretense, as if he were not aware that Tilda was currently in danger.

“Don’t antagonize him.” Hadrian didn’t take his eyes from Tilda.

She met his gaze and tried to convey that she would be all right. She wasn’t sure how yet, but if he could move a little closer to the railing, perhaps she could push Crocker off balance so that he fell. The key was not to go over with him. It was not lost on her that their last case involved someone falling over a railing.

“I am an excellent medium!” Crocker cried. “If you paid more attention to those beyond your chosen few, or the women you are wooing, you might have noticed. It is you who are terrible.”

“And yet without me, the society will falter,” Mallory said with supreme arrogance. Was he trying to aggravate Crocker? “None of you can do what I do. I see into people’s minds and beyond to connect with those they have lost. Such as your mother, Michael. She cries in the spirit realm, aching for the son who has turned out no better than his father—the very man who ended her life.”

Crocker’s entire body heaved in reaction, his grip loosening ever so slightly on Tilda’s midsection. It was enough for her to lift her leg and kick back into his thigh. But he did not release her.

Suddenly, they went sideways. A body hurtled into them, and now Crocker released her. Tilda fell to the floor. She flipped around and saw that it was Captain Vale who was grappling against the railing with Crocker. The man had somehow made his way upstairs.

Both Hadrian and Mallory rushed forward. Crocker tipped over the railing. He gripped the captain, and for a horrifying moment, it looked as though both of them would topple to the hall below.

But Mallory grabbed his father and pulled as Hadrian clasped Crocker’s arm and wrenched it away from the captain. Crocker flailed, and Tilda’s heart stopped as she feared he might take Hadrian over with him.

He did not. Crocker arced over the railing and fell.

Tilda pushed herself up and rushed to Hadrian’s side. They looked over the railing at Crocker splayed on the floor below, a red pool forming beneath his head. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, sightless.

“Papa,” Mallory cried, sounding broken as he clutched at his father, who was slumping toward the floor.

“We must fetch a doctor,” Tilda said. “I’ll go ask a neighbor.”

As Tilda turned toward the stairs, Hadrian grasped her arm gently. She met his stare and felt the worry she saw there in the hollows of her own body. It was at once jarring and comforting.

“You’re all right?” His gaze flicked toward her neck.

She touched her flesh where the knife had grazed her. “Yes. I am incredibly relieved you weren’t shot. We neededoneinvestigation where you were not wounded.”

A smile lifted his lips, and Tilda’s breath caught. “So we did.” He released her arm, and Tilda was sorry to no longer feel his touch.

Before she could allow that sentiment to take root, she turned and fled down the stairs.

CHAPTER 22