Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
“And she’s not at home either, eh?” Reynolds scowled, arms folded across his chest as Henry gave him the bad news.
“She must have realized the scheme was at an end when two of her employees didn’t report for work this morning.” Henry paced the small confines of the Director’s office, frustrated to accept that Dr. Thorne had slipped through their fingers.
It had taken some sorting through the half-panicked, half-starved patients to learn that Miss Louisa Elmcroft, Amelia’s friend, hadn’t been at the sanatorium either. He hoped she’d already departed in good health.
“Mr. Collins said he wasn’t scheduled to work today,” Fletcher said slowly. “And I can’t believe the unexpected absence of one nurse was enough to alert her. People catch colds, don’t they? We didn’t talk to any other staff members last evening, so they couldn’t have told her.”
“Regardless of how she found out, it seems clear she did.” Henry paused to rub a hand over the back of his neck. “The question is, where did she go?”
He’d already left a constable to watch her house and two more to monitor the train stations near her home, but he had to wonder if she’d already departed hours ago. But to where?
Sergeant Johnson appeared in the doorway. “Someone to see you, Field. She says it’s urgent.”
She? Henry followed Johnson out the Director’s door to find Amelia walking toward him. His heart pounded at the concern darkening her eyes.
“Henry!” She hurried toward him, one gloved hand outstretched. “She’s boarding a ship to America—to New York City, today. Unfortunately I don’t know any further details.”
He blinked, hardly able to believe Amelia could have discovered the doctor’s plans.
“Another trip to the modiste.” She offered a one-shouldered shrug with the explanation, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “Apparently she brought a trunk to the modiste’s shop in a terrible rush and took everything, whether the gowns were finished or not.”
“Thank you.” He gently gripped her arms, wishing he could properly thank her, but that would have to wait. “This might be the break we need. Do you need an escort home?”
“No, Yvette is with me and the cab is waiting.” She glanced over her shoulder to where the maid stood near the door, staring with wide curious eyes at the bustling interior of the Yard.
“Good.” He released her as Fletcher and Reynolds joined them. “Dr. Thorne plans to board a ship to America—to New York.”
“Not if we have anything to do with it,” Fletcher countered with a determined smile.
“I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.” Amelia nodded at the men and quickly departed with her maid.
Henry’s thoughts raced as he considered their next steps. A ship to New York. “The most likely option is the Royal Albert Dock. Most passenger steamships leave from there.”
“Agreed.” Fletcher headed toward the door.
“Take Dannon and Stephens with you,” Reynolds called out.
The two constables joined Henry, who paused to grab his hat and coat, and they were out the door in a trice.
Henry glanced about, pleased to note Amelia and her maid had already gone.
Hopefully, he could update her with good news this evening.
Fletcher hailed one of the larger hansom cabs drawn by two horses, but they still had to squeeze inside.
The sergeant quickly explained their hurry to the driver then joined them.
“We have reason to believe Dr. Thorne is boarding a ship bound for New York City,” Henry began as the vehicle jerked forward, sending Fletcher rocking back in the seat.
“Could be she’d take a smaller one to Liverpool and leave from there,” Fletcher offered with a worried look.
“We’ll have to hope that’s not the case,” Henry suggested. “That she’s too anxious to put England behind her.”
“Right.” Fletcher nodded, glancing at the two constables. “You remember her description?”
“Yes, sir,” the two men who’d joined them for the search of the sanatorium replied.
“Good.” Henry nodded, his gaze on the passing scenery, wishing they could go faster. “We’ll split up once we get there—find any ship going to America today, particularly to New York City. Then blow your whistle to alert the others.”
It took far longer than Henry would’ve liked, but three-quarters of an hour later, they arrived. Was it too late? Had she already departed?
There was only one way to find out.
With the victims whose lives she’d taken firmly in mind, Henry surveyed the dock, realizing he felt deeper empathy for those poor patients after his own injuries—and an even stronger desire to claim justice for the families that the victims had left behind.
But the bustling scene before them was intimidating and the afternoon waning.
How on earth would they ever find her amidst the chaos?
Numerous tall masts and black-funneled steamers cluttered the skyline.
Dockworkers shouted to one another over the clank of iron.
Passengers coming and going pulled trunks and carpetbags alongside them.
Carriages lined the edge of the dock, both picking up and dropping off passengers.
People everywhere, constantly moving, in a never-ending stream.
Fletcher directed the constables to opposite ends of the dock.
“—and move into the middle. Look for any passenger ship bound for America. And hurry!” The sergeant pointed at a nearby steamship with gang planks stretched to the dock, only to have his words cut off by the harsh shriek of a steam whistle.
He glared at the vessel, then tried again once it ended.
“I’ll start with that ship and work toward that end. ”
“I’ll try this one.” Henry gestured to the one beside it. “And move in the opposite direction.”
Henry strode toward the ship, the scent of rotting fish and coal smoke making his nose twitch, Henry headed to it. He caught the attention of a man with a ledger book tucked under his arm, moving toward the gangplank. “Where is this ship headed?”
“Liverpool.”
With a nod of thanks, Henry ran to the next one, ignoring the way his ribs protested in response. Damn his injury—would he ever truly heal? Based on the elegant lettering that spelled the ship’s name and its well-maintained appearance, the vessel would appeal to someone like Dr. Thorne.
He stepped around a dockworker hauling crates on a wagon then hurried closer to the ship, searching for anyone who might be able to tell him where it was bound—or whether it had just docked. A closer look at the gangplank confirmed that trunks and bags were being hauled on rather than off.
“Where is this ship going?” he asked a man who was hoisting a trunk onto his shoulder.
“New York,” came the muffled reply before the man continued on his way.
Perfect. Now what?
Henry scanned the railing where some passengers who’d already boarded had gathered, no doubt to wave goodbye to those they were leaving behind. New York was a long way away; for some, this would not be a return trip. But it was impossible to recognize anyone from this distance.
He fished his whistle from his pocket only to hesitate. What if this wasn’t the only ship bound for America? He didn’t want to pull his men until he knew more.
His best option would be to board himself and find the captain or another officer with a passenger list to see if Dr. Thorne was on it—though of course she could be traveling under another name. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
Henry turned toward the nearest gangplank, only to be directed by a shouting man to another. Frustration simmering, he rushed in that direction—only to halt at the sight of a familiar, well-dressed woman surrounded by trunks standing on the dock, apparently waiting for assistance to board.
The single streak of gray hair, visible below her small, black hat, confirmed her identity.
Satisfaction swept through Henry as he drew near. “Going somewhere, Dr. Thorne? Or perhaps I should say, Miss Thorne?”
She spun around to stare at him, eyes wide in disbelief…and with a small measure of fear in their depths, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Inspector Field.” She glanced around, whether to see if anyone accompanied him or to gather her wits, he couldn’t decide. “Whatever brings you to this dock?”
“I think you can guess.” Henry looked at the ship. “Planning to leave England?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “I am. An opportunity in America has arisen. One I can’t miss.”
“Oh? What about Hollowgate Heights and your patients there?” He didn’t mention that they’d closed it down earlier in the day. She’d learn that soon enough.
“My great work there is done. I’ve taken the sanatorium as far as I can, it’s up to others to continue our work.” Once again, a small tick appeared at the corner of her eye. “The time has come for me to move on.”
Henry smiled then blew his whistle, loud and sharp, causing Miss Thorne to startle. “It’s too late for that. The scheme has come to an end, and you’re not going anywhere.”
“Scheme?” She had the audacity to look affronted. “Whatever are you speaking of?”
“We know everything. Andrew Collins was kind enough to share the details, along with one of your nurses. Tobias Barnes has also been arrested.”
“Who?” Her eyes narrowed as if she were unfamiliar with the name, even as her face paled.
Henry was enjoying this. “The solicitor you used to amend the wills of Walter Howard, Thomas Ambrose, and Dorothy Symes. How many others did you kill?”
Miss Thorne gasped in outrage, though he knew it was feigned. Her breath came in quick gasps, her hand trembling as she lifted it to press to her chest. “Whatever are you going on about, Inspector? This is harassment, and you will rue the day you accused me of such evil things.”
“Practicing medicine without a degree is also illegal, Miss Thorne.”
Several people passing by paused to see what was happening. Henry wished they’d continue on their way.
“It’s Dr. Thorne,” she insisted, her gaze darting about before she turned to a tall man in a black woolen suit standing near the stack of trunks, watching them warily. “Edward, this man is bothering me. I want him gone.”
The same man who’d answered the door of her home hesitated, then started forward.
“Hold.” Henry held out a hand toward the man and looked back at the woman even as his pulse thundered. “Cordelia Thorne, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Howard, Thomas Ambrose, and Dorothy Symes.”
She glared at Henry with a startling amount of hatred gleaming in her eyes. “Edward?”
Henry glanced at the man and lifted a brow. “Stay where you are, sir, unless you wish to be arrested for obstruction of justice.”
Edward looked between them, clearly uncertain how to proceed.
Miss Thorne didn’t wait to see what the man decided but turned and strode away as fast as her skirts allowed—but Henry easily caught her arm and held tight. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Release her.” Edward approached, hands fisted at his sides. Apparently touching her was too much of a threat.
A small crowd gathered, their attention caught by the drama unfolding. This was all going wrong—where were his men in response to his whistle? Had they even heard it? His ribs wouldn’t withstand a fight, not with the pair of them, and his headache was returning and with it, the nausea—
“Step back!”
Henry drew a relieved breath at the sound of Fletcher’s order, followed by the sharp shrill of his police whistle.
The sergeant pulled handcuffs from his belt and offered them to Henry. “I assume you’ll be needing these?”
“I will, indeed.” He took them and soon had a still-protesting Miss Thorne in cuffs as Fletcher grabbed her companion’s arm.
“This is the end of your career, Inspector,” she ground out.
“I’ve heard that before, yet here we are,” he replied as Constables Dannon and Stephens arrived. He tipped his head toward Edward as relief swept through him. “Bring him along to see what he can tell us.”
Within the hour, they had returned to Scotland Yard with their suspects in tow. It took some convincing, but the sight of the solicitor being led away in handcuffs finally persuaded Miss Thorne to enlighten them on a few things.
Mr. Barnes’ clerk happened to be her cousin and had alerted her that the police were closing in. Yet despite this admission she continued to protest her arrest, stating the names of some of the more fashionable people she’d helped, including members of the nobility.
“The money went toward research,” Miss Thorne insisted. “Research!”
“But most of it went to you,” Henry countered. “Perhaps you should’ve given Mr. Collins a larger cut to buy his loyalty.”
She shook her head, a smug look on her face. “You think I gave him money? He wanted to attend medical school and believed me when I promised to pay for it. Rather na?ve of him.”
Her confidence didn’t waver until he mentioned the three victims’ names again.
“Those particular guests had very little time left. They were already dying.” She leaned forward, steadily holding Henry’s gaze, as if willing him to understand. “In truth, we saved them pain and suffering. It was a kindness.”
Henry’s stomach twisted with her words. “You cannot justify what you did.” He stood, deciding they knew enough for now. Perhaps time alone in a holding cell would help her see the error of her ways.
Director Reynolds clapped his shoulder as Henry watched her being taken away, and he just managed not to wince at the jarring pain. “Well done, Field. Another case solved.”
Henry nodded. “I only wish we’d discovered the scheme before people died.”
“True. But you likely saved some, and that matters.” Reynolds held his gaze as if wanting to make certain Henry believed it.
That was enough for him to manage a smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Oh?”
The Director gestured toward the damaged portion of the Yard. “I’m not saying I like the reason for it, but the blast has given us the excuse to make some changes. We’re having several offices added, and one of them is yours. Thought it was time you had your own.”
Henry blinked. “Oh. Thank you, sir.”
“Pleased you’re here, Field. Now go home and get some rest.” Reynolds turned away only to look back, this time with a knowing look. “Unless you’re headed to Mrs. Greystone’s. If you are, please give her my regards.”
Henry smiled again, this time genuinely. “I will.”
He looked forward to thanking her again for her help, to holding her, and telling her how much he loved her.
His future wouldn’t be complete without her, regardless of whether they were solving cases together or enjoying a conversation before the fire.
But he had to be patient. He’d promised not to pressure her and he intended to keep that promise.
For now, he would enjoy every moment they spent together, and allow the future to take care of itself.