“Yes,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“Thank you,” she said, blinking back tears. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He hesitated, the picture of a man trying to find the nonexistent words to console a woman whose husband, by all appearances, attempted to murder her sister. She didn’t have time to convince him otherwise, so she just said, “Go—save her.”
He nodded and strode in. Joan dashed up a moment later, Dot and Marilyn at her heels.
“Beatrix, youcan’tlet a wizard in there,” Joan whispered. “We’re certain the omnimancer was set up?—”
“I know him. We can trust him.”
“Well—OK,” Joan said, frowning. “If you’re sure.”
“How did you realize Peter didn’t do this?” she asked, hoping for incontrovertible evidence but knowing there would be none. The wizards had never been sloppy, and they would have planned this especially well.
“It’s just … obvious, isn’t it?” Dot said. “We know him. He wouldn’t.”
“And what better way to cover up the real source of the attack than to put him under a spell that controls his movements?” Marilyn said.
“My God, I’m sorry,” Joan added, hugging Beatrix. “Thosebastards.”
Beatrix tried to answer, but her throat seemed to be closing up, what-might-have-beens running through herhead. If she had seen Plan B through … If she and Peter had just stayed home today … If she’d taken Ella’s warning seriously…
That last memory on the platform before she blacked out came back to her in a rush. She pulled back, eyes wide. “Where’s Ella?”
They looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” Joan said.
“She was there—on the platform after Lydia was attacked.”
Marilyn turned to Dot. “I didn’t see her. Did you?”
“No.” Dot stared at Beatrix. “Are you sure?”
Beatrix bit her lip.Wasshe? Could she have dreamt it? Before she could come up with an answer, she caught sight of Detective Tanner striding toward them.
“Detective,” she said, running to meet him, “Peter didn’t do it. I know it looks as if he did, but?—”
“Mrs. Blackwell,” he interrupted, voice subdued. “I’m afraid we need to ask you some questions. Come with me, please.”
Her heart constricted. “Could we talk here? My sister?—”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“Please don’t make me leave Lydia.” She could barely get the words out.“Please.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Gray stepped between them. “I suggest you schedule a time with Mrs. Blackwell when she’s not waiting to discover if her sister will survive this surgery.”
Tanner shook his head. “It has to be now.”
“We’ll stay,” Joan said, putting an arm around her. Then, head to hers, she added in a whisper, “We’ve kept on practicing.”
Beatrix looked at her, eyes wide. Practicing … spells?
“Mrs. Blackwell,” Tanner said, voice firm, and it was clear she would not have time to take Joan aside and find out what, exactly, they’d been doing.
Gray cleared his throat. “I think I should come with you.”
