Sarah’s heart was beating so loudly, she wondered Agnes couldn’t hear it. Could Lars Otto have been the killer all along? That would explain so much, such as why he had ordered Sarah not to see his wife anymore and why he’d forbidden Agnes to mourn her sister’s death. Of course, she could be wrong again. Malloy would most certainly remind her that she had no proof. Perhaps Otto really had gotten his bruised knuckles from a street fight, as he’d said. Perhaps he was simply ashamed of his sister-in-law and didn’t want to hear her name mentioned again.
Or perhaps he had been so ashamed that he had sought her out on a dark street comer and beaten the life out of her before she could bring even more disgrace to his family. Fortunately, it wasn’t Sarah’s job to find out. Malloy could do that. And if he had to use force to get Otto to tell the truth, for once Sarah wouldn’t criticize his methods. Looking at Agnes’s battered face, she couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for Otto, killer or not.
Meanwhile, however, Sarah had more pressing issues to be worried about. “Agnes, your husband is probably worried about the same things you are. He’s probably afraid the police will blame him for Gerda’s death. That’s probably why he has been so nervous lately.”
“Yes,” Agnes agreed eagerly. “I am sure that is why. He is very frightened.”
Sarah sent up a silent prayer for wisdom. “That is also probably why he’s been so… so violent with you. He might be afraid you’ll tell someone he was out that night.”
“I would never do such a thing!” she cried, then covered her mouth in horror, realizing she had just done so.
“Even if he only suspects, he’ll be very angry,” Sarah suggested reasonably. “Agnes, I think your life is in danger.”
She was horrified. “Oh, no, Lars would never hurt me!” she insisted.
Sarah stared at her in astonishment. “Agnes, he’s already hurt you terribly!”
“He did not mean it! I just made him so angry. He is very sorry. He will not hit me again. He promised!”
“I’m sure he means that promise, too, but I’m also sure he’s made the promise before. Sooner or later you’ll make him angry again, and he’ll forget it. One night, he might start beating you and not be able to stop himself. You’ll be dead, and who will take care of your children? You must get away from him before it’s too late.”
Once again, terror twisted her face. “I have no place to go! No one will take a woman with three children, and I cannot work. How will I live? My children will starve!”
“I can take you to the settlement house.”
“They will take away my children!” she wailed, and Sarah silently cursed herself for using that threat.
“No, they won’t. They’ll help you there. They’ll give you a place to live and food, and your children won’t have to hide anymore, and neither will you.”
“Lars will find us! He will be so angry!”
“We won’t tell him where you are.” Sarah didn’t add that Lars might well be in jail and unable to find anyone. “You’ll be safe, I promise you. Agnes, if you stay here, you might die. If you don’t care about yourself, think of your children! They need their mother.”
But Sarah could see she was fighting a losing battle. How many times had she made this argument to women like Agnes? Even in the few cases when she’d succeed in getting a woman to seek safe shelter, she had eventually returned to her husband. Life for a woman alone, especially if she had children, was simply too terrifying and uncertain. The settlement house would keep such women only for a short while, and then they would have to make their own way. The choice between destitution and an occasional beating-especially when the woman probably believed her husband had every right to beat her if she didn’t please him-was no choice at all.
“Mrs. Brandt, you should go,” Agnes said, her fear plain. “Lars does not want you here.”
“There’s no reason for him to know I was,” Sarah reminded her. “I certainly won’t tell anyone. Just please, promise me you’ll take the children outside for some fresh air every day and make sure they get plenty of water to drink. Otherwise, the heat can make them sick.”
Agnes nodded absently, glancing at the door to her flat. She was probably worried that her husband might be coming soon. If he found Sarah there… But he wouldn’t. She was leaving. She gathered her things. Before she let herself out, however, she said, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to send for me, Agnes. And if you’re ever afraid, you can come to me. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Agnes wouldn’t even look at her.
As Sarah made her way down the stairs to the front door of the building, she knew her only hope was to find Malloy and send him after Lars Otto. If he really was the one who’d killed Gerda, then Agnes and her children would be safe. Safe from Lars Otto, that is. Sarah would have to figure out how to keep them safe after that as well.
MERCIFULLY. MRS. ELSWORTH was nowhere in sight when Sarah finally made her way home that evening. Unutterably weary after leaving Agnes’s flat, she’d had to walk over to Fifth Avenue to find a cab. Then she’d had to go to police headquarters on Mulberry Street to leave word for Malloy, and since no cab would wait for her in that neighborhood, she’d had another long walk ahead of her. Now, at last, she was home.
Too tired to cook, Sarah made herself a sandwich with some cheese and drank what was left of the elderberry wine. She’d earned the indulgence. Only when she felt the warmth of the alcohol seeping into her blood did she begin to question her actions that day.
What right did she have to try to convince Agnes to leave her home? Many would condemn her actions. She had, after all, tried to break up a marriage. Not many people would consider the fact that Lars had beaten his wife savagely as grounds for such a desertion. Many men beat their wives, and they considered it their right. The law, in most cases, supported them, too. A man might go to jail for beating up a total stranger, but if he did the same thing to his wife, the law would turn a blind eye, even if she died from her injuries. Just one more injustice to feel outrage about in an unjust world. Sarah would go mad if she allowed herself to feel outrage for all of them, so she had to focus on righting the ones she could. If she was able to put Lars Otto in jail for murder, she would have won another battle.
She wished Malloy were here. She’d just discovered that this was the answer to his question about how she coped with losing patients: she coped by saving the ones she could.
Unutterably weary, she decided to go to bed, even though it wasn’t very late. She’d taken down her hair and begun to brush it when she heard someone pounding on the front door. It was the unmistakable sound of a panicked man whose wife had just gone into labor. Suddenly her weariness vanished. She always had the energy to bring a new life into the world.
She was almost to the front door when she realized that the pounding wasn’t quite right. Usually, they stopped after a while to give her a chance to answer the door, but this pounding hadn’t stopped. In fact, it seemed to be getting even more frantic. Her instincts had just warned her not to open the door when it burst open on its own, the wood splintering around the lock as Lars Otto stumbled in.
“You!” he cried, pointing at her. “You tried to take my family away!”
“You’re crazy!” she tried. “Get out of my house this instant before I call the police!” Sarah only wished she didn’t sound quite so frightened. He’d startled her, bursting in that way, and now he glared at her with utter contempt.
“I know what you tried to do! You tried to make Agnes run away with my children! You were going to hide them from me!”
“I was worried about Agnes’s safety,” she tried. “You hurt her very badly.”
“She will not listen!” he roared. “She makes me hit her. I cannot help myself.”
“You can help yourself now,” Sarah said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Get out of here before the police come and arrest you.”
His face contorted with hatred. “Why would the police arrest me?”
Sarah wanted to accuse him of murder but decided that would be foolish. “For breaking into my house.”
“When they find out what you have done, they will praise me! A man must protect his home.”
“And you protect yours by beating your wife?” Sarah asked before she could stop herself.
“What happens in my home is none of your business, you meddling bitch!”
Sarah had been mentally plotting her escape, and when he lunged for her, she bolted, heading for the kitchen and the back door. Once outside, he wouldn’t dare harm her, and if he tried, neighbors would come running.
She dodged around the kitchen table, but her foot caught on the leg of a chair, throwing her off balance. She grabbed the edge of the sink and righted herself, but before she could take another step, Otto grabbed her by the
