Page 38 of Dark Embrace

Without another word, Sarah spun and strode down the hall to the surgical ward, skidding to a halt just inside the doors. She stood, trembling, her heart hammering, herpalmsdamp.

A group of men huddled around a bed in the middle of the large room, among them Mr. Simon and Mr. Franks, and two men she thought must be constables from the Metropolitan Police. One of them—dark haired and swarthy—seemed familiar, and she wondered if he was the officer who had attended the ward before, the one who had declined Elinor’s offeroftea.

“I tell you, sir, that I saw Mr. Thayne lurking about when I left last night,” said Mr.Simon.

“And what time was that?” asked theconstable.

“Just before midnight. I know it because as I walked through the front doors, I heard the clock strikethehour.”

“And did you speak with Mr. Thayne atthattime?”

“I did not. But I believe it was he thatIsaw.”

“Youbelieveit was he?” the second constable asked. “Did you see himornot?”

Mr. Simon’s lips thinned, and when he spoke his voice was high with irritation, his cheeks flushed red. “I did not see his face clearly, but I saw enough of him to determine his identity. The man was tall, as is Mr.Thayne.”

“As am I. As is that attendant there.” The dark-haired constable gestured at a man standing by the wall and then cocked his head to one side. “You and Mr. Thayne are of a similar height, areyounot?”

“Similar height. Different build. I tell you the culprit is Mr. Thayne,” Mr. Simon insisted. “He has been on this ward each time someone died of the strange and inexplicable wounds perpetrated upon their bodies. He and I had words over the care of each of thosepatients.And—”

“—and I would like to know precisely what accusations are leveled against me,” Killian said in a ringing voice as he stepped through the second doorway on the far side of the ward. His gaze slid to Sarah, lingered for an instant before sliding away. He scanned the faces of the men assembled around thecorpse.

Sarah watched him walk deeper into the room, thinking that he seemed to appear mid-conversation with odd regularity, as though he could hear others invoking his name from a great distance. The thought flickered and then slipped away as Mr. Simon said, “Mr. Thayne, you will confirm your whereabouts last night.” The constable cast him a sidelong glance. Mr. Simon’s chest puffed up. “He was here each time a patient was killed,” he said to the constable, then looked to Mr. Franks forconfirmation.

Mr. Franks, ever true to his adversarial nature, stepped forward and said, “As was I. As were you. As were the night nurses and several of the apprentices.” His attention was snared by a man on the far side of the bed. “Like young Mr. Watts there, with his white bib apron. I am certain you were here last night, were you not? You went out and then returned. I saw you come back with a sour face, saw you doff your gloves and hat and hang yourcloak.”

Mr. Watts looked at the ground. Sarah studied him for a moment. He was tall and broad in the shoulders. And he was the apprentice Elinor had mentioned, the one she claimed watched Sarah with interest of a romantic nature. It was true, Sarah realized in that moment. Mr. Wattsdidwatch her and he was always at the hospital when she was. He raised his head now and met her gaze. There was something dark there, something…angry.

According to Mr. Franks, Mr. Watts had left King’s College last night only toreturn.

Could he be the man whofollowedher?

Could he be thekiller?

“Valid points,” Killian said as he stepped deeper into the room, holding to the shadows, out of the spill of morning light that came through the window. “I was here, as was Mr. Franks and Mr. Watts and a dozen others. As were you, Mr. Simon. Does that bring you under equalsuspicion?”

“It does not.” Mr. Simon’s words fell like drops of burning acid. “As to the accusations leveled against you, the way of it is clear enough. Five dead bodies. I accuse you of having a handinthat.”

“Ah.” Killian raised a brow. He prowled closer, his dark garb blending with the gloom, his bright gold hair the only light thing about him. There were grace and power in the way he moved, and suddenly, Sarah wished there was not. She wished he were ungainly and gangly. Less masculine. Lessthreatening.

Her gaze slid to the constables. All of a sudden, she saw Killian exactly as they must, as a powerful man who would surely emerge the victor in almost any altercation. All the more so if he chose to attack a sick and weakenedpatient.

He would never do that. She knew it. There was no question in her mind or in herheart.

Killian reached down and drew the sheet up, covering the face of the man in the bed, shielding him from dozens of eyes. “And when exactly did this patientexpire?”

“Last night,” snarled Mr. Simon. “I sawyouhere.”

“Did you?” Killian did not appear particularly perturbed by the assertion, but Sarah noted the constables studying him with wary assessment. She edged closer and heard the one murmur to the other, “This man didn’t die last night. The body lost its bladder and the sheets are still wet. I’d say the murder was closer to dawn, else the sheets would be dry or at themost,damp.”

Sarah swallowed. Killian had left in the early hours of the morning, at the first light of dawn. She glanced at the sheet-drapedbody.

In time, an explanation of these repulsive acts would surely come to light, and that light wouldnotshine on KillianThayne.

But the constables did not know it, and they stepped toward him, flanking him on either side to block any possibleescape.

“He’s quite the bandy rooster, isn’t he?” one asked with a nod at Mr. Simon. “All full of questions and knowing all theanswers,yeah?”