My eyes darted to his face, belly going cold. “Anotherwhat?”
“Another body. This one down near Coldvreath.”
“Oh, Jack. Who?”
He shook his head, cutting into the pie with his fork. “Don’t know yet. No one the constable could identify right away.”
I waited for him to answer the question burning in my mind, but it seemed he was going to make me ask. “Was it—were they ...”
“Same kind of attack as the first one. But they say it happened before the solicitor, by the state of the body.”
“Who found it?” I asked thinly, feeling sick.
“A fella from Coldvreath. Friend of old Couch’s—mushroom hunter, I guess. His dog dug it up in some leaves and loose soil on the edge of Tregarrick’s property.”
I took an unsteady breath. “What did Mr. Hilliard say?”
Jack’s expression was grim. “That he’d asked the Police Watch Committee to send more men to look for the killer. Which is a waste of time, since we all know who it was.”
“Jack, you can’t still think—”
I broke off as his gaze landed hard on mine. “I don’t know what it is with you and him, Mina, but you need to start facing facts.”
“‘Facts,’ Jack? That people around here are too simple to do anything but suspect a man who’s minded his own business for years, all because of some old stories?”
His eyes flashed. “You calling me ‘simple’ now? You’re better than us, smarter than us, now you’ve read a few books and met the lord of the manor, is that it?”
“Maybe that’sexactlyit!” I snapped, my bloody temper getting the better of me again. It mattered not at all that his “detective work” wasn’t too far wrong. I took a deep breath, simmering down, while he scowled at his plate. I could see that his anger was masking real hurt over my words.
Softening, I said, “I didn’t mean that, Jack. I just don’t see the point in making up our minds about anything—dragging a man’s name through the dirt—until Mr. Hilliard has had a chance to do his job.”
He glared at me. “By the time Hilliard does his job, somebody else will be dead.”
I sighed. Again, he wasn’t necessarily wrong. “I just don’t understand what makes you think you know more than the police.”
“This isn’t London, Mina.The policearound here are no different from the rest of us, and there is no reason at all why their opinions should count for more.”
“How about the opinions of the only people who’ve actually had a conversation with Mr. Tregarrick, then? Me—who, I’ll remind you, he was kind enough to walk home after an accident on the heath—and the constable—who, if he thought Mr. Tregarrick a murderer, would have him in jail already.”
Shaking his head, Jack grumbled, “We’re talking in circles.” He gave his plate a shove, got up from the table, and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” He yanked open the door without answering, and I panicked. “Jack, don’t! It’s not—”Safe.The door closed on the end of my sentence.
I got up and started stacking the dishes, knocking them loudly together out of frustration—and fear. If I’d said that I believed acreature on the heath was responsible for the killings, would it have stopped him? Then I recalled that I’d suggested something very like that yesterday, and he’d laughed at me.Fairies! Might as well call it an actual wolf, like some of the dullards at the tavern.Maybe he’d even accuse me of making up a story to protect “the lord of the manor.”
It occurred to me that Mr. Tregarrick and I were living in a world apart from regular folk. One Mum would likely have believed in. Jack and I had scoured our corner of the parish looking for fairies without success, and we’d grown out of believing in her stories. Then I’d started seeing warnings in teapots. Then I’d met a vampire.
After clearing away supper, I went up to the loft with a candle andIn the Leaves. But I was too plagued by worries to follow it. I reached under my pillow, where I’d tucked Mr. Tregarrick’s letter and the note I’d written him. It began to feel even more urgent that I get word to him. None of us would be safe until the killer was stopped. And though I had been fussed over and warned to take care since Mr. Roscoe’s death, Jack was likely more at risk.
It was late when he pounded on the door to be let in. After he’d finally fallen into bed, I went back up and slept.
In the morning, once Jack had left, I took up Mum’s cross and removed the broken chain; I threaded a thin purple ribbon through in its place and tied it round my neck. I went then for the paring knife, still in my basket, and tied a handkerchief around the blade before slipping it in my pocket with the note for Mr. Tregarrick. Finally, I put on my shawl.
I thought I might meet Mrs. Moyle on her way to our cottage, and if not, I’d go on to The Magpie and speak to her about Mr. Carew.
As I opened the door, I found Mr. Hilliard climbing down from his gig, and my stomach lurched.
“Miss Penrose,” he called. “You aren’t going out, are you?”
