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“Where were you on the morning of Monday, October 13?”
“I’m certain I was at my practice. Probably seeing a patient. I don’t remember who.”
“But if we looked in your appointment ledger, we would see that you were at your practice seeing a patient at that time?” Gideon pressed. He’d sat forward on the settee, elbows braced on his legs. “At, say, eight or nine in the morning.”
“That is perhaps a bit early.” Wakefield’s voice had pitched higher. “I usually don’t see patients until ten, but I was no doubt making my way to my office.”
“So you never encountered Miss Delacourt on the morning of the day she disappeared?”
“No, I did not, Inspector.” He was glaring now, his voice cold. A glacial kind of anger.
“And you’ve no idea where she is?”
“If I did, I would bring her back, wouldn’t I?” Wakefield inched forward too, facing Gideon, closer now. “Do you think I enjoy watching my fiancée go mad with worry every day? Or watching my father-in-law tearing his hair out with despair? If I could bring her back to them, I would be a god in their eyes. I would do anything I could to find Iris, but I do not know where she is.” He spoke the last words slowly, emphasizing each syllable.
“She never mentioned wishing to go away?” Electra asked him. If she had fallen pregnant, had he helped secrete her away in the countryside?
“No.”
“When was the last time you met with her clandestinely?” Gideon put in.
“Approximately a week before she disappeared.”
Electra calculated in her mind. Iris had disappeared on Monday. Calliope had last been seen the previous Monday evening and did not arrive at work on Tuesday.
“Might she have been with child?” Gideon asked the question that had been in Electra’s mind before they arrived at Eaton Square.
“Good God, no! This is outrageous, wild speculation.” Wakefield’s shout was still ringing in Electra’s ears when someone rapped once and then pushed open the study’s door.
She and Gideon turned.
Violet Delacourt stood on the threshold, face pale, fists clenched at her sides. “Did you harm my sister, Tristan?”
Wakefield immediately stood and went to her. “No, love, I swear it.”
“But you betrayed me.”
“Please, Violet, let us speak alone once they’ve gone.”
Electra and Gideon stood, and Electra felt an odd tremor chase through her at the realization that she might be seeing the precursor to the vision she’d seen when she touched Violet.
Most of her visions had been of the death of someone. A vision of a future event, yet she’d assumed the argument between Wakefield and Violet had occurred in the past. Perhaps all her visions would always be of the future.
She strode past Gideon, past Wakefield, and approached Violet.
“Will you be all right?” she asked her.
A tear slid down her cheek, but she nodded. “My father is here. Tristan won’t hurt me,” she whispered, then scoffed. “Any more than he already has.”
“Please be safe,” Electra urged.
Violet reached out and clutched Electra’s hand. “Don’t stop looking for her, please. None of this matters to me as much as finding my sister.” She bit her lip and said, dropping her voice even lower, “I feel…”
“What do you feel?” Electra said softly.
“That feeling between twins we spoke of. I feel her, Miss Poole. I feel that my sister is still alive.”
Chapter Fifteen
