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He shakes the box at me. “A locked snuffbox with my initials on it. Containing poison. Where was it hidden? Someplace I would never stumble upon it? She sent this girl pretending to work for Edinburgh’s secret criminal reporter, and when that did not work, she sent you.”
“No one sent us. We came looking for our friend here.”
“Who was sent byher.Do you not see that?”
“No one sent me either,” Jack says. “I was on a story. Following you was part of that story, and you stuffed me into a box and left me to die. We all heard you say you would leave me there if you had to. Now you will tell the police you are not a murderer?”
Fischer bolts, box in hand. He gets three strides before he sees Gray blocking the doorway.
“You aren’t leaving,” I say. “Not without a police escort.”
He backs up slowly, but there’s no place else for him to go. When he hits the wall, I start toward him. Gray stays at the door, blocking his exit.
“I did nothing,” Fischer whines. “Nothing. That witch sent the girl, and I had to put her into that chest. I had no choice. Do you not see? I—”
He whips the snuffbox at me. I dive and catch it.
“Mallory!” Gray says.
I think Gray is shouting a warning to catch the box. Then I see Fischer with the vial of powder. The uncapped vial.
Shit.
“Hey,” I say, pulling Fischer’s attention my way as Gray takes a step toward him. “If you didn’t do this, you need to explain that. Tell the police—”
Fischer’s arm flies up, slamming the contents of the open vial into his mouth. Gray catches his arm, but it’s too late. Fischer is coughing and hacking, choking on the thallium sulfate powder.
Gray grabs Fischer and thumps him hard between the shoulder blades. I snatch up the vial. It’s empty but for a smattering of powder on the sides.
Gray has Fischer around the waist, gripping him from the back and hefting him, trying to forcibly expel what he’s swallowed.
“We need an emetic.” His gaze shoots to the small kitchen. “See if there is any syrup of ipecac in his medicine cabinet. Or mustard powder. Even salt will do.”
My first-aid training tells me none of that is used anymore, but if it makes Fischer vomit up the poison, I don’t care what damage it might cause.
“Jack?” I say. “We need…”
We need what?
A doctor? We have one.
An ambulance? That isn’t even a thing.
“The police,” I say. “Or a cab. We need… Jack?”
The door stands open, and there is no sign of Jack.
THIRTY-NINE
Jack has gone for help. I tell myself that is the answer, but I don’t believe it. She fled before the police could arrive. Before she could be pulled into this.
Or did she flee for another reason?
She planted this. I swear it. She did this. She came in here and planted it and then led you here.
I push that aside and focus on getting Gray what he needs. He’s trying to manually force Fischer to vomit, but only gets thin strings of bile and saliva.
“Can we pump his stomach?” I say. “At a hospital? Is that a thing? Stomach pumping?”
