Impossible.
Impossible.
Impossible.
There was a fresher scar on his left jaw, and a fair number of scrapes and bruises, all matching the wear and tear from Winter dragging him out of the hospital. Do something. Say something.
Marcus Blackburn didn’t miss a beat. “You must be Winter Pierce.” His expression was still warm, still friendly. “Nice to meet you.”
Why not tell them? Why not tell his family that Winter had tried to kill him?
“Nice to meet you, too.” Winter held out her hand to shake the one he offered. Of course he wouldn’t tell them. He had kept his identity as the Plague Saint a secret from them. Was that only so he could keep all of the money for himself, rather than share it with his brother’s struggling family?
How had he survived? In her panic, Winter hadn’t really made sure he was dead, she reminded herself. He hadn’t been breathing after his collapse, she’d thought, but…maybe he’d started again, and she hadn’t noticed. But she’d thrown him in the river!
And then you walked away.
“You can sit down,” Phoebe said.
“Huh?” Winter’s gaze darted to her right, where Phoebe was pulling out a chair.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Sorry.” Winter sank into the chair next to Phoebe. “I just…remembered something I need to do when I get back to the guard station. It doesn’t matter.”
While she made conversation with Phoebe and answered her parents’ questions, Winter tried to figure out Blackburn’s side of the story. After pulling himself out of the river, why not go back to the hospital? How long had it taken him to find out she’d taken his place—if he even suspected it was her who now wore the persona? Why not go to Director Adams? And why hide from his family for over two weeks?
Winter tried to avoid looking at him, but then she wondered if that was weird. Did he notice? Did anyone else notice?
“What do you do at the guard station, Winter?” Phoebe’s mother asked.
“Oh, I uh, I organize case files, pretty much,” Winter answered. “Sometimes they have me deliver messages or fill out reports, too.” She risked a glance at Marcus, who was nodding along to her answer.
The conversation shifted to Phoebe’s work and school after that, to Winter’s relief. She focused on downing the rest of her soup.
After dinner, Phoebe insisted on making cookies, so the family and conversation moved to the kitchen while she worked. As she was putting them in the oven, her parents announced they were going to bed.
Winter could have choked on her own anxiety as she watched them leave. Just her and Phoebe and Marcus now.
“Let’s wait in the dining room while they bake.” Phoebe led the way back into the room where they’d had dinner. Marcus sat down first, and Winter took a seat on the other side of the table. Phoebe sat down next to her, close enough to make her already racing heart feel like it was going to burst. She hid her shaking hands in her lap.
“Uncle Mark,” Phoebe said. “Winter’s been hearing some interesting things about the hospital director’s death.” She gave Winter a pointed look.
“Right.” Winter cleared her throat. “There are rumors going around the station that Director Adams’s death wasn’t an accident.”
Marcus’s expression was almost unreadable. Almost. He lifted an eyebrow and the barest hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “I heard the tests for some of the plagues came back positive, though.”
Winter had expected she would need to convince Phoebe’s uncle of foul play to get him to divulge information about his research. But giving him information now would be a mistake. Surely he’d figure out that she’d been the one to kill Adams, right? Maybe even assume that she was responsible for Gordon’s death, too, once that became public? He knew she was capable of it, after what she’d done to him.
Phoebe was waiting expectantly. She couldn’t clam up now. Winter forced herself to continue. “I guess there are some theories about how someone could have made him sick deliberately, but I don’t know the details. But I did hear someone say they think it’s connected to plague research.” She swallowed. “As in, someone had new information on how to cure them, but someone else wanted to keep it secret. I don’t know exactly what that has to do with Adams though.”
Winter hoped she looked as ignorant as she sounded. “But—” Her eyes darted to her right, to Phoebe, who was nodding encouragingly. “Phoebe mentioned you were involved with that kind of research.”
Marcus really was unreadable now. He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded slowly. “I was afraid some people were after my work. And when I was attacked in my lab a couple of weeks ago, I took that as confirmation. Truthfully, I always expected something like that might happen.” Blackburn’s gaze darkened as his eyes locked with Winter’s. “If you control the plagues, you control the people.”
The ding of a timer came from the kitchen. “Oh, the cookies!” Phoebe jumped to her feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Winter’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you want help?”
“No, I’ve got it. Be right back!” With that, Phoebe darted out of the room, leaving Winter alone with the man she’d tried to kill. After he’d tried to kill her mother.
“So, Winter.” Blackburn leaned back in his chair. “Do you enjoy working at the guard station? It must be an exciting job.”
“It’s actually pretty boring for me,” Winter told him, a bit surprised by the seemingly casual question. “Like I mentioned earlier, I mainly do paperwork.”
He responded with a slow nod. “Ah. Not much work on your part, then. Just working with what other people accomplished.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed. “Well, not entirely. People make mistakes. I have to correct them.”
“How do you know what’s a mistake and what’s simply something you…don’t see eye to eye on?”
“To begin with, I don’t see helping people as a mistake.”
A cold smile crossed Blackburn’s face. Mistake. What Winter had just said was a mistake. He knew she was the one who’d taken his place.
“Help some, hurt others…that’s how it goes, isn’t it?” Marcus asked.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
“So, you help everyone you possibly can? No matter what they can offer in return?”
Winter had nearly killed him, taken his job, and was undoing his work at the hospital. Why did he seem so damn amused?
Winter didn’t have to come up with a response. Phoebe returned with the tray of cookies, oblivious to the tension between them. “So,” she said as she set the tray down. “I know we asked you this already, but you’ve been pretty vague. Where did you go after you were attacked? Why were you gone for two weeks?”
Marcus sighed. “I was trying to keep you all safe,” he told Phoebe, completely falling back into the persona of a concerned uncle. “I was afraid my attackers would follow me if I came back here. I had to stay away long enough that I could be sure they didn’t know where I was. Even now, we have to be alert. That’s why I’ve been so on edge.”
Phoebe swallowed and nodded. “I’m so sorry, Mark. I—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Marcus interrupted. “I knew my research would put me at risk, and I did it anyway, because I knew it was important. I won’t give up until I find a cure for every last plague.”
The way he pretended to be noble, and the way Phoebe watched her uncle with admiration in her eyes…it made Winter sick.
“Do you know who’s after you?” Phoebe asked. “Names? Or faces? Because they could be responsible for Adams’s death too, and maybe other people who died in the hospital—”
“Phoebe, if I knew that information, I wouldn’t give it to you,” Marcus said. “I don’t want you getting involved in this any more than you already are. It’s too dangerous. I’ve given the city guard everything I know, and they’ll handle the situation better than anyone else could.”
Winter’s jaw clenched. She’d learned everything she was going to from Marcus. He’d learned from her, too, far more than she should have let him, but nothing could be done about that now. She needed to figure out how she was going to move forward.
Marcus hadn’t given any indication that he planned to reveal what she’d done. But surely he intended to do something, and soon. If Winter gave up the Plague Saint persona and backed away from this whole mess, would he let her go?
Even if that were an option, she couldn’t just let things go back to the way they were before. She’d killed two people already, and until about an hour ago, she’d thought that number was three. Mayor Atherton would proceed with his plans and new law, even with Gordon dead, and there were people in the hospital who needed the treatment that only Winter could give them.
Plus, River still needed medicine.
Now that Winter knew Blackburn and the Plague Saint were one and the same, she wanted another look at his lab. Did Phoebe still have the key? Could Winter persuade her to take another look? Probably not, now that she seemed to have sorted things out with Marcus.
Winter cleared her throat. “Phoebe, may I use your bathroom?”
“Of course!” Phoebe rose to her feet. “Follow me, I’ll show you where it is.”
They entered a dim hallway, and Phoebe lowered her voice. “Thank you for your help,” she said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get much information about whoever’s behind all this, but that conversation made me feel a lot better.”
“I’m glad it worked out,” Winter told her, quickly running through a few ideas before settling on one. “Would you want to go back and look at his lab again, now that we know a little more?”
“You’d do that?” Phoebe asked.
“Of course!” Winter feigned enthusiasm, though she kept her voice hushed. “This entire thing is crazy.”
Phoebe considered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. “I appreciate it, but I think Mark’s right. There’s no point in putting ourselves in danger when the city guard is already investigating.”
Seriously? What had happened to the girl who was so eager to play detective? It wasn’t about the killer, really, Winter realized. Phoebe had been trying to find her uncle, and now that she had him back, she didn’t need to solve the rest of the mystery. His vague answers about people wanting his research were enough.
Phoebe took a few more steps down the hall and paused in front of a door. Her hand slid into her pocket, and she pulled something out.
The lab key.
“I’m just going to put this back where I found it,” she said. “Hopefully he hasn’t noticed it’s gone. But I doubt he’s going back any time soon, anyway, since the place was empty.”
Winter pulled her eyes from the key in Phoebe’s hand. “Where did you find it?” Did that sound suspicious? “I mean, I would think he’d have kept it well hidden.”
“It was just sitting in the top drawer of his nightstand. I was surprised, too.” Phoebe shrugged. “But hey, we got in, didn’t we?” A grin flashed across her face.
“Fair enough, I guess.” Winter jutted a thumb at the door behind her, just a few feet down from the one Phoebe stood in front of. “Bathroom, right?”
“Oh, right, yes!” Still clutching the key, Phoebe inched open the door to Marcus’s room. “I’ll just put this away and head back to the kitchen.”
Winter entered the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her, trembling violently. The girl in the mirror stared back, wide-eyed and struggling for air.
She needed that key.
Forcing her breathing to quiet, she kept her back to the door, listening. Faint creaks followed Phoebe into the next room. There was the sliding of a drawer, and then the soft click of the door closing. Phoebe returned to the kitchen, and a moment later her voice drifted down the hall, followed by a reply from Marcus.
While their conversation continued, Winter slipped out of the bathroom and crept to Marcus’s door. She pushed it open. Swept her gaze across the room.
There. She moved to the nightstand as fast as she dared and opened the drawer. The key rested on top of a stack of notebooks inside. Had Phoebe bothered to give these a look? Winter resisted the urge to dig through them; there wasn’t time now. She grabbed the key and shoved it in her pocket.
She paused. Over the sound of her thudding heart, she could just make out Phoebe’s voice. She closed the drawer and left the room.
As Winter was easing the door shut, another door opened at the far end of the hallway. Damn it. She frantically pushed the door the rest of the way closed with an alarming thud and stepped away from it.
Phoebe’s mother emerged from the darkness of her bedroom. “Hi, Winter.”
“Sorry,” Winter stammered. “I hope I didn’t make too much noise. I was just using the bathroom.”
“You’re fine. I wanted a glass of water.”
Winter breathed a small sigh of relief and hurried back to the dining room ahead of Phoebe’s mother. “Thank you for having me over, Phoebe,” she said. “But my parents are expecting me home soon.”
“Of course!” Phoebe sprang to her feet. “I’ll show you to the door.”
Winter pulled on her coat as she stepped out of the apartment, eager to get home as soon as possible.
“So,” Phoebe said slowly as they approached the exit door. “I guess I’ll…see you around?”
There was something in Phoebe’s tone that made Winter think there was more she wanted to say, but Winter didn’t have the mental capacity to try and decode it right now. “Sure.”
Phoebe waited in the doorway while Winter hurried out into the cold night. “Good night!” she called as Winter reached the sidewalk. Winter glanced back, and Phoebe waved.
Winter waved back. “Good night.”
She had new plans for tomorrow. Instead of having lunch in her office, she’d visit Marcus’s lab and try to find something—anything—that could help her. She also needed to somehow stop the mayor’s law from passing, figure out the most effective way to get word out about the better plague treatments, and get River all the way healed.
And she had one new item to add to her to-do list.
Winter had to make Phoebe see who her uncle really was.