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"File's gone," Clay said.
Tolliver nodded, as if neither surprised nor indignant that we'd searched Shanahan's house.
"Can you remember anything about it?" I asked.
He paused, then shook his head. "I'll think on it some more, but that piece never interested me. Neither did Jack the Ripper in general." A small laugh. "Even as a child, I think I was offended by the suggestion that a doctor might have been responsible. Patrick would know more. The letter was one of his favorite pieces."
"Which brings us back to square one..." Clay said.
"Finding Patrick. I agree that the portal needs to be closed, and quickly. Even if I don't know how much help Patrick can be, I'd be happy to help you locate him...if I could."
"Why can't you?" I said.
"Because, while Patrick and I were close as boys, we've barely seen one another since college. He only calls now and then to see whether I've come to my senses and taken up a more profitable branch of medicine...with profits he could help me invest. When he learns I haven't..." Tolliver shrugged. "That's the end of our contact until the annual Christmas card. I can try--"
Tolliver's cell phone rang. He answered. As he listened, he closed his eyes, suddenly looking very tired. "Tell them I'm on my way," he said, then hung up.
"There's a small outbreak of intestinal upset at a nursing home I cover, and they're worried it's the cholera. More likely food spoilage from the heat, but I need to check it out immediately. As I said, I'll think about the letter some more, and Patrick as well, and see what I can come up with."
I took out a piece of paper, jotted down my number and gave it to him. He was out of the courtyard before I got to my feet.
Zoe made us promise to call and update her. In the meantime, she'd try to track down more on the story behind the letter.
The five of us went to dinner before the meeting with Matthew Hull. Jeremy had decided we'd go--that the potential reward outweighed the risk.
We found a sit-down restaurant and a quiet table. Easy enough now--in the wake of the cholera "epidemic," they were all quiet. The city still hadn't cleaned the water supply. They'd taken every step--multiple times--but the problem persisted. As long as the portal remained open, the cholera was here to stay.
While Jeremy and Antonio updated us on their dead-ended investigations, Clay kept casting anxious glances at me as I picked at my dinner.
When it was our turn and I asked Clay to tell them what we'd learned, he leaned my way.
"What's wrong?" he murmured.
"Noth--"
"You've barely touched your meal."
"It's just the heat."
"You look pale," Jeremy said. "I thought it was the lighting, but--"
"It is. I'm fine."
"You're probably dehydrated," Antonio said. "Finish your milk and we'll order you another."
I lifted my hands. "Enough. The pregnant woman is fine. Not terribly hungry tonight, that's all." I felt Clay's gaze boring into me, and sighed. "Okay, maybe a little tired, but no more than everyone else, I'm sure. It's been a very long day."
Clay pushed back his chair and stood. "Come on. I'm taking you up to our room."
"Before I finish my dinner?"
That gave him pause, but only for a second. "We'll ask for takeout."
I shook my head. "Yes, I am tired, probably from the heat, but the sooner we get this done, the soon
er I can go home and really rest, in my own bed. Now sit down and bring everyone up to speed on what Randy Tolliver said." I looked up at him. "Please."
Sorcery
