The Timeseer's Gambit (The Faraday Files Book 2) (56 page)

And yet…

And yet, Olivia’s rationale made… sense. “A little bit mad.” The phrase fit poor Sister Elisa perfectly. And if she was responsible, she couldn’t be allowed to continue her murders, which she surely would without someone stepping in…

He slowly climbed to his feet. “I… I’ll get Maris on the mirror,” he said softly.

Olivia reached out and grasped his wrist. He blinked down at her. Now
her
lips were set in a line. “We can’t do that,” she said tersely.

Miss Banks’s head snapped up. “Oh for Eadwyr’s sake, Olivia, why in Neema’s name not? Are you determined to draw this unpleasant business out?”

Olivia brushed hair from her forehead. Despite Chris wanting to agree with Miss Banks, he knew that expression. Olivia wasn’t gleeful at all, not right now. She was dreading what came next. “Maris is sour with me,” she said finally. “You said it yourself, Em. She blames me for what happened at the courthouse. And what we have is a lot of conjecture and the suspicions of a friend, nothing more. Not to mention a great deal of the evidence is tied up to an invention of yours that isn’t even supposed to
exist
. Right now, Maris will
never
order an arrest.” She gave Miss Banks a pleading look. “You
know
how she can be.”

Slowly, Miss Banks nodded.

“Nothing has changed from when I asked you to bring Sister Patricia here. We need either a confession, or the disruptor. Sister Patricia’s testimony, weaved by Chris, will help a bit, but it won’t be enough. I knew it had to be either Eugenia or Elisabeth. Now I know for sure which of the two it is. And that means we can finally lay our trap.”

Miss Bank’s jaw clenched. “We, is it?”

“Your ruse worked,” Olivia said kindly. Far more kindly than Chris was used to hearing her speak. “The priests all seem to value this paper you’re writing. A chance to tell their stories. I suspect Sister Elisabeth will leap to action if you were to tell her that you need a follow-up interview.”

“Are we just going to keep inviting suspects to your office, then?” Miss Banks ground out. “And hoping very sincerely that they won’t grow suspicious as we parade them in front of us one by one?”

“Absolutely not,” Olivia said, and she seemed unable to help her little grin. “That’s a poor sort of plan, isn’t it? I’m shocked Sister Patricia didn’t see the sign and blow the whole operation!” Her smile turned grim. Determined. “We’ll need to meet Elisabeth on her own territory. At Heart Church. Miss Montgomery was easy enough to invite here―she was never
actually
a suspect. This… this is something else entirely.”

Miss Banks sighed. She adjusted her half-moon specs and brushed at her hair. “You want me to set this up for you.”

“I’d like you to do more than that,” Olivia said quietly. “If you would. I’d prefer if this were―well, if this were an
actual
follow-up interview. If you actually conducted it.”

Miss Banks actually laughed. She tried to scratch her nose to cover it, but there was no hiding the little shocked chuckle. “You’re daft, Olivia,” she said, her voice almost fond. “I am absolutely going to do nothing of the sort.”

Olivia sighed. “If I walk in there, she’s going to know―”

“What you mean to
say
,” Miss Banks interrupted smoothly, “is that you could never, ever successfully conduct the interview in such a way that the subject would come to trust you and confess to anything at all. You can’t badger her with what evidence you have until she confesses. She’s cracked and close to a breaking point and you have nothing. So as you
know
you cannot finesse a single thing out of her, you’re hoping I’ll do it for you.”

Olivia glowered.

“Is that about it?” Miss Banks pressed.

“There’s also the element wherein Maris will be less likely to rake
you
over coals for it,” Olivia muttered.

“Because I respect you, and because I want to give Sister Elisa a chance to confess and stop killing, I’ll arrange the meeting,” Miss Banks said. “But I absolutely will not perform the interview.”

“Then what’s the point?” Olivia snapped. “We both know I’ll get nothing out of her. The moment I walk in, she knows that it’s about Lachlan, not about the paper, not about
anything
else, and I don’t possess any skills that could help put her at ease, so we’ll gain absolutely nothing from―”

“What if I did it?” Chris asked.

The two women turned to look at him in surprise. During their argument, his mind had been ticking like clockwork, and it had all quite suddenly snapped into place. Olivia raised an eyebrow at him. “She knows that you’re my assistant, Chris,” she said it slowly, as if explaining to a stupid child. It would have offended him once. But it was just her way. “The moment you walk in, she’s still going to know it isn’t about Em’s paper.”

“It doesn’t have to be about Miss Banks or her interviews,” Chris said. His mind felt very clear. “It can be about Lachlan, instead.” It seemed to him as if everything had coalesced for this moment. “Grief is drawn to grief. From the very moment we first saw one another, Sister Elisabeth… I’ve felt a pull from her, and she has to me, in turn. She wants to talk about it. About what she’s lost. But she can’t trust herself with anyone who isn’t also grieving, who doesn’t―” He averted his eyes from Olivia’s prying curiosity “―who doesn’t also blame himself for what happened.”

There was silence. And then… “Chris,” Olivia said softly. “How could it be your fault that Mister Spencer killed himself?”

“I don’t know,” Chris breathed. “I know it’s irrational. I know that it makes no sense at all. But Olivia, I still feel responsible. There was something more I could have done. I should have noticed. I should have known he was hurting. How could I have just―” And it flooded out. “If he killed himself, if he
wasn’t
murdered, then I
am
responsible, Olivia, don’t you see?”

She didn’t. She couldn’t. He looked at her and saw her struggle for words. Olivia barely took responsibility for when someone was insulted by her sharp tongue. How could she wrap her mind around this? But slowly, she nodded. “I can see how you could be the ideal candidate for handling Miss Kingsley,” she said finally.

Grateful and choking back tears, Chris nodded in return. Olivia turned to Miss Banks.

“Em. I don’t suppose it would kill you to come along? We need to retrieve the disruptor, in any case, and you should be there for that.” Miss Banks nodded in agreement, and Olivia turned back to Chris. “Be
careful
,” she said firmly. “Obviously, Emilia and I
can’t
be there, or at least, can’t be in the room. I know she’s a pretty, waifish sort of young woman, but like we’ve said… she’s cracked. And she’s murdered five people. If you get yourself killed, Christopher…”

He almost laughed at the expression of nearly maternal protectiveness on her face. Instead, he gave her a weak smile. “I’ll be careful, Olivia,” he said firmly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She raised a hand, brushing hair back from her forehead, and then threw up her hands.

“Well,” she said. “Fine. If we’re going to do this, let’s do this.”

hris waited.

His hands were shaking.

Grandmother Harriet, as sweet as ever, had been thrilled he’d come to check on Sister Elisabeth. Her eyes had filled with tears as she’d led him to one of the rooms off the back corridors of Heart Church, still heavy with water damage. She’d brought him a cup of tea―“Oh, no need to worry, dear! It was already prepared!”―and then had left him to find the Maiden and bring her to him. Tomorrow, the new Youth was coming. Elisabeth was deep in prayer to Maerwald, but of course, she’d make time for a guest…

And Chris sat alone.

There was a salamander lamp on the table he sat at, and he reached out and tapped it absently, waking the creature within. It was not quite as long as his pinky finger and it blinked slow eyes at him as it crawled around the inside of the bowl, barely lighting the room. He couldn’t help but think of its massive, draconic cousin that had been summoned to the ballroom, destroying Miss Banks’s greatest achievement. Every day recently was one unasked for adventure after another, wasn’t it? Of one kind or another.

A crash of thunder shook the walls and Chris ducked his head, gasping despite himself. Rain pounded on the single high window. The door creaked open.

He glanced up.

Sister Elisabeth Kingsley gave him a tremulous smile. “Mister Buckley,” she said. “I… I’ve been so hoping you’d come to see me.”

Chris got to his feet and made the sign of the Three and Three. The courtesy was unnecessary, given the supposed personal nature of this visit, but it let him hide how his hands were shaking. He couldn’t look right into her eyes. This woman had killed five people. Including Georgie. And thought it was not only forgivable, but
right
. “I’ve worried about you,” he said quietly. His voice was impressively steady. “You were so quiet when I saw you at the memorial yesterday.”

“Ah,” Elisa glanced away. “I…” She shook her hair back. Her hands were shaking too, Chris saw. She had them tangled in the skirts of her habit so he wouldn’t notice. “It’s been so―Maerwald’s Sigh, it’s been so hard.” Unexpectedly, she turned her eyes onto his, and the grief immediately tugged at him.

He sat down all at once, slumping into the chair like he’d been punched. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair.
Keep it together
. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just… one step ahead of it. Trying to outrun it, because if it catches up with me…”

“Yes,” she breathed, and her voice was heavy with gratitude. She slid into the seat across from him eagerly and folded her hands on the table. “I’ve been―all my duties don’t seem enough. I do everything I have in front of me to the best of my ability, but then it’s done. And I―all I can think of is Lachlan. I have to find other things to do. Anything. Anything to make it all seem all right.”

Like taking it upon herself to put in some overtime and deal with Jason Billingsly…or making it his mission to save Francis Livingstone from the noose. In a way, he could almost understand her, which frightened him more than he could say. He shook his head. “I hear there’s a new Youth coming tomorrow.”

Elisa’s fingers shook as she held them up in front of the salamander lamp. The little lizard cocked its head and flicked out its tongue at her. She wiggled them and it followed her with its black eyes. “I don’t want him,” she whispered. “I―how can I just replace Lachlan? I owe him more than that.” But then her lips folded into a line. “All six gods know,” she said, and there was a hardness in her voice, “that he’ll probably be… be just like all the others. I won’t be good enough for him. He’ll be lazy. He’ll want something. He’ll…” She straightened suddenly and snapped her mouth closed.

Chris was afraid to breathe. He saw it in her eyes, now. Those
cracks
that they’d talked about. Just an edge of something not correct.

How many days had she been in categorization? How long had she kept hold of her mind?

His sympathy must have showed on his face because she softened. “Your friend… the man who raised you. He worshipped here?”