I tighten her corset snugly. “Good?”
“Good enough for me, as I am not in the market for a mate, nor do I have the need—or the assets—for distraction.” She picks up her corset cover and tugs it over her head. “Now explain this lead you are pursuing.”
She sounds so much like her brother that I have to smile. I stop smiling as I remember his reaction to my lead.
“Catriona?” she says when I don’t reply. Then she pauses. “Or ought I to call you Mallory? In private at least?”
“I remember hearing a quote about no sound being sweeter than that of our own name, and damn, it feels weirdly good to hear it. But for safety’s sake, we should probably stick to Catriona.”
“I am quite capable of not slipping up. Mallory is it, then. This lead. You hesitate to share it. Why?”
“Because your brother dismissed the idea.”
“My brother does not realize you are a criminal officer.”
True, butshedoesn’t know the whole story either.
I consider telling her that I brought the killer with me, but if I tell her,is she obligated to tell her brother? Would I damage their relationship by sharing investigation details she can’t pass on? Is that a good enough reason to keep it from her? I’m not sure yet. I only know that I’d rather wait untilnotsharing it endangers the investigation.
Of course, there’s another solution to this problem. One I like a whole lot more than keeping secrets from Isla.
“Maybe we should tell Dr. Gray about me,” I say. “Then he’d take my theories more seriously.”
“We cannot,” she says. “Not yet. Please. I need to figure out a way to convince him of the veracity of your story. I came to understand that absolute proof is impossible. He will struggle with that. Moreover, it will be a distraction he can ill afford. He has this case, which is incredibly important for Hugh, along with a paper that is incredibly important for Duncan himself.”
She looks over at me. “If it were only a matter of convincing him you are not Catriona, I would attempt it for the sake of the investigation. It is not. It is convincing him of the possibility of passing through time itself, which opens endless potentialities that his mind will not be able to ignore.”
When I don’t answer, she says, “When we were growing up, our mother always called Duncan’s brain a boisterous puppy. Give it a toy, and it will attack with vigor. Wave a brighter, shinier toy in front of him, and it will abandon the first to pursue the second. It is something he has struggled with all his life. He must force himself to focus on one at a time and not be lured away by the promise of another. He has an incredible mind, but it requires incredible discipline.”
I understand what she’s saying. In the modern world, it might be labeled a mild form of ADHD. But I’m not sure it’s right to manage it for him, not at his age. Gray might struggle to avoid distractions, but from what I’ve seen, once he’s found his focus, he holds tight. Otherwise, he’d be with me today, pursuing this case, instead of locked away with his paper.
Isla’s concern smacks of older-sibling syndrome, never quite trusting her younger brother can do things on his own, wanting to fix problems for him. Yet I’m a newcomer, and to even suggest she’s babying him is to suggest I know the man better. I don’t—I just think I might, as an outsider, see him more clearly, my view unmarred by the gauzy layers of his younger selves.
“Please, Mallory,” she says. “Trust that I know my brother’s mind. Wewilltell him. Once his paper is done or when there is a lull in the investigation. Until then, I will handle any doubt regarding your abilities. Now, the lead?”
“I think the first victim, Archie Evans, knew the killer.”
I give my reasoning, insofar as I can without bringing in the part where his torturer was a guy from the future. Without that, it’s a weak argument, and Gray was right to set it aside. If she does the same, Iwilltell her, but she only says, “So what do you propose to do about it?”
“Investigate Evans. I’ve been to his lodgings. I won’t be able to speak to his roommates again. I burned that bridge.”
“Dare I ask?” she says as she buttons her blouse.
“The ringleader made me throw him into a table.”
“Madeyou?”
“It was unfortunate. However, I did score points with the landlady, who seems sick of the little assholes. That will be my way into the house, maybe into Evans’s room. I just need a few hours off and, er, directions. Possibly also a bit of advice, so I don’t say something rude or weird and get kicked out on my arse.”
“In other words, I ought to go with you.”
“No, I just need—”
“A companion. One who understands this world and can guide you through it. One who also has not ‘burned a bridge’ with the young man’s friends, in case more information is needed from them.”
“I really don’t think—”
“I do.” She looks at me and smiles. “You do require a half day off, do you not, Miss Catriona? A half day that only the lady of the house can grant?”
“You’re blackmailing me into taking you along?”
“I am, indeed. Now gather what you need, and I shall inform Mrs. Wallace that I require your assistance with my shopping today.”