Unsurprisingly, the skull did not respond.
I grabbed Cope. “What happens when you combine medical knowledge, Victorian America, Calvin, andme?” I asked him.
Cope didn’t appear to have the answer.
“Sensationalism, that’s what!” I ran out the front door, nearly slipped on the first step, caught myself, then remembered to lock the door before starting toward Good Books.
“Sebastian!”
I paused midstep and looked toward the road. Marc Winter was climbing out of a cab and walking toward me. “I don’t have the time,” I said.
“You need to make—is that—what isthat?” Marc pointed at my skull as he stepped over the slush accumulating on the edge of the road.
I looked at Cope and then held him up to provide a better view. “Edward Drinker Cope, once famous paleontologist, now a museum artifact.”
Marc was bristly as he joined me on the sidewalk. His eyes darted to Cope a few times, sort of like he had just seen a car wreck and couldn’t quite pull himself away from the horror. “I had an extremely unpleasant meeting with a Detective Wainwright this morning,” he managed at length.
“My condolences.” I tucked Cope carefully into the fold of my arm.
“Wainwright was asking about my whereabouts the last few days. About mybaby sister’swhereabouts.”
“Wow,” I said, mildly surprised. Wainwright not only listened to my harebrained ramblings yesterday but pursued the possibility in an official capacity. No doubt he was now comfortable in writing the Winters off as harmless, as I had been, but still. After suspending Quinn and Neil, the last thing I’d expected was Wainwright entertaining a word I’d said.
“He says Calvin has been abducted.” Marc took another step forward to loom over me.
“That’s correct,” I said calmly. Perhaps too much so. Or maybe it wasn’t calmness at all. Maybe I was simply adrift in a hazy space of sleep deprivation and a fuck-it-all attitude.
“I know you’re behind this,” Marc said accusingly.
“Behind the abduction? No. Behind the questioning? Yes. I did tell Wainwright to look into you both.”
“Ellen livesandworks in Philly,” Marc declared.
“But do you understand why I even had to consider it?”
“Because you’re shit nuts?” Marc retaliated.
I sighed inwardly. “Sometimes. But mostly it was because I didn’t believe you had a sincere bone in your body regarding Calvin.”
“He’s mybrother,” Marc said, his mouth a thin line. “You want to hear me say it? Fine. I screwed up.” The muscles in his jaw jumped much like Calvin’s did under stress. “I didn’t understand Calvin, and I didn’t want to try. And to be honest, I still don’t understand him. Or why thehellhe’d want to marry a smartass like you.”
“Thank you,” I said dryly.
“But….” Marc struggled for a moment. A long moment at that. “Calvin was never happy growing up.Never. He didn’t have a good relationship with our father, and God knows I didn’t do much to ease the tension….” Marc stared at the road as a few taxis drove past, splashing dirty snow and slush on the sidewalk. “When he spoke your name last Christmas… all I could think was, his own family never made him smile like that.”
Marc cautiously put his hand out. I looked between his face and the offering several times, not rising to the bait.
“I can live with the two of us never being friends. And I’m sure you can too. But whatever it is you’re doing right now,” Marc whispered, words catching a bit, “bring my brother home.”
I waited, but the punch line never came. So I took Marc’s hand and shook it. “I will.”
Chapter Fifteen
“BETH!” Ishouted, throwing the door open to her shop and stepping inside.
She jumped from where she stood hunched over the counter. Beth put her bejeweled glasses on and frowned at me. “You about gave me a heart attack, Sebby. And this is a bookstore! Keep your damn voice down,” she chastised at an equally loud volume.
I walked inside, letting the door fall shut as I approached the counter.
