“I’m pleased to hear his health took a turn for the better,” Henry said. “It only makes sense that some ‘guests’ of the sanatorium have had good results, or they wouldn’t be able to attract new patients.”
Perhaps it would be worthwhile to speak with Mr. Olson to see if he had witnessed anything unusual during his stay.
Amelia looked at him, brow puckered. “I hope that’s true more often than not.”
No doubt she was concerned about Miss Elmcroft.
Henry sighed. So was he.
Seventeen
Henry’sstepsslowed,hisheartbeat pounding and mouth dry, as he approached Scotland Yard the next morning. The damage to the side of the building was shocking. A large section of the exterior wall was gone, all the way up to the first floor. It had been boarded up, though workmen with stacks of bricks at their sides were preparing to replace it.
The debris had been mostly cleared, but piles of dust and small bits remained behind. The glass had yet to be replaced in the pub windows across the street. There was no denying something catastrophic had happened here.
Where exactly had the bomb been placed? Should he have spotted it?
Henry blew out a short breath, realizing it was impossible to view the area as a crime scene. Not when he’d been caught in it.
Nausea took hold as fragmented memories of the blast played through his mind. The boom. The rubble raining down. The pain—and Marcus. Was the lad truly all right?
Henry forced himself to turn away, blinking to clear his thoughts. Perhaps it was best if he wasn’t involved in this particular investigation. He needed to think about his professional cases instead—not the one where he was a victim.
With a slow breath, Henry continued into the Yard, nodding at the sergeant who managed the front desk. “Morning, Johnson.”
“Inspector Field! It’s good to see you back.” The austere man offered a rare smile and a nod.
“It’s good to be back.” Except for the part where his head still hurt, and sudden movements caused the room to shift in an alarming manner, and he felt nauseous just seeing where it had happened. Taking a deep breath remained problematic as well.
Still, he continued into the main office, nodding at a few other inspectors who greeted him warmly. The damage wasn’t nearly as bad in this particular area, though the explosion had destroyed one of their interview rooms, the doorframe now boarded up.
The sooner he sat down at his desk, the better. Anyone who wanted to speak with him could do so there. At the very least, he’d be sitting, and his head wouldn’t be moving. One thing he already knew for certain: surviving the day was going to be a challenge, given how weak he felt.
“Field. About time you showed up.” Inspector Perdy rose from his desk and strolled toward Henry. “Thought you intended to take off the whole month, enjoy the sunshine.”
Henry almost welcomed the irritation that flooded him, a much-needed boost of energy. “Any luck finding who placed the bomb?”
“Not that we’ve been told.”
Though Henry longed to ask Perdy if he’d bothered to do some digging on his own, he held back. Based on what Fletcher had said, they’d been ordered not to.
Before either of them could speak Inspector Duncan joined them, looking over Henry. “The division rarely tells us anything that’s going on. How’s the head?”
“Still sore.” Henry touched the bump, though that was only part of his worries. “Getting better, though.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
Several constables chose to come over and greet him as well just as Fletcher entered the office, and his grin had Henry smiling in return. “Good to have you back.”
“I’m happy to be here.” Mostly.
“Field?” Henry carefully turned his overly heavy head to see Director Reynolds near his office door. “A word, please.”
“Glad you’re here, Field.” Duncan nodded as Henry rose slowly. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”
“Thanks, Duncan.” Henry ignored Perdy and followed the Director into his office then took the chair he gestured toward.
Reynolds took a moment to study him. Henry tried not to wince. “I can see you’re not yourself yet. Best not to overdo things.”
