“But then, from where I lay in the grass, it appeared Mr Stephens had suddenly learned to fly. He took to the air, and in a moment I saw Calvin behind him, holding Mr Stephens by the nape of his neck like a rabbit. Mr Stephens made the most horrible squeaking noise, and then Calvin swung him around and smacked his head into the trunk of a tree.
“He kept hitting the tree with Mr Stephens’s head, and I didn’t look away. Mr Stephens’s head mashed like some kind of fruit, bright pink juice running down Calvin’s arm.”
Hester finally looked up. She ignored Day, but stared at her husband, her brow creased with concern. “Do you understand?” she said. “He did that for me.”
“He went to prison for it,” Day said.
Hester turned her gaze to Day and she nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped. They all heard the door open downstairs.
52
Day left Hammersmith to watch over Bennett Rose and the Prices. He bounded down the stairs and found Dr Kingsley stamping his feet on the mat. Kingsley was covered with snow, from head to foot.
“Thank God you’ve made it, Doctor.”
“That man practically carried me the entire way or I
“Campbell, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Kingsley looked around as if he might find Campbell hiding behind the coatrack. “I don’t know. He was right with me when I came through the door.”
Day pulled the front door open and stuck his head out. The wind had died down a bit, but the snow was falling just as quickly, already filling in the three sets of footprints outside. Day could see where Campbell and Kingsley had approached the inn together, but the third set of prints went away from the door, around the side of the inn. Campbell had left the doctor and fled. Day briefly considered giving chase, but then thought better of it. Campbell had served his time for murder, and there was no evidence that he had committed a crime in Blackhampton. The worst he had done was to help hide Mrs Price, and Day wasn’t sure he wanted to arrest anyone for that. He was certain she hadn’t killed her son, which meant Campbell wasn’t an accessory to a murder. Day pulled his head back in and slammed the door shut.
“I’m told you found the little boy,” Kingsley said.
“He was at the bottom of the well.”
Kingsley pursed his lips and removed his hat. “There’s never anything sadder than the death of a child.”
“I’m afraid I still need to know how he died.”
“Of course,” Kingsley said. “Bring me to him.”
Day led the way up the stairs. Bennett Rose was on his feet, but Sutton Price hadn’t moved. Day wondered if the miner had fallen asleep. Hammersmith nodded a greeting to Kingsley.
“How are you, Sergeant?” Kingsley said.
“I’m just fine, sir.”
“No weakness? Fatigue? Shortness of breath?”
“All of those, but I’ll recover.”
Kingsley shook his head. “Lie down and rest a bit, would you?”
“I will the moment we’re on the train back to London.”
Kingsley shook his head again and snorted. He looked past Hester Price at the body of Oliver on the bed. The boy was a pale lavender color, purple veins feathering up under the collar of his shirt and across his face. His skin was swollen and distended from his time in the water, his eyes puckered holes. His legs bulged against his trousers. His left arm was missing at the elbow, lost somewhere in the bottom of the well. His shirt was tattered across the front, torn and open, exposing pale white-and-blue mottled flesh that showed the evidence of deep puncture wounds. One shoe was missing and the other had been stretched by Oliver’s expanding foot so that the seams had burst. Dark liquid crusted his lips.
Day watched Kingsley’s face, but there was no expression there. The doctor had surely seen atrocities that Day couldn’t imagine.
“He bled,” Day said. “I mean the body bled, not long ago. We all saw it. You can still see it there.”
Kingsley leaned down, his face inches away from the face of the dead baby.
“How is that possible?” Day said. “A miracle?”
Kingsley shook his head and made a quiet sound that only Day heard. “No,” Kingsley said. “Nothing about this is miraculous. Did anyone touch the body before it bled?”
“His father.”
“Pressed in on the boy’s chest, did he?”
“Yes.”
“He squeezed out the remains of this little fellow’s decomposing organs.”
Hester Price gasped, and Kingsley straightened up. He turned and glared at the people gathered there in the room. “So much for superstition,” he said. “Now go. I need privacy.”
“Of course,” Day said. He held his hand out to Hester Price, but she ignored him. Hammersmith stepped closer and took her arm, helped her up off the side of the bed, and walked her out of the room. They waited in the hall. Day followed Hammersmith’s lead by taking Sutton Price’s elbow. He helped Price to his feet and motioned for Bennett Rose to precede them out of the room. Day looked back and saw that Kingsley’s satchel was on the bed at Oliver Price’s feet. The doctor had already removed his jacket and was rolling up his sleeves, preparing for the grisly work ahead of him. He glanced up at Day and let out a long breath. His eyes were sad, pink-rimmed.
Day took a last look at Oliver’s delicate little body before he shut the door. There was a part of him that wanted to scoop the boy back up in his arms and carry him away from that cold, unhappy village.
53
Give her some time,” Bennett Rose said. “She can have this room.”
He turned the knob and swung open the door of the room across the hall. Day would have liked to put more distance between Hester Price and the room where Kingsley was performing his dreadful work on her son, but he appreciated that Bennett Rose was making an attempt to be useful again. He stuck his head in and looked around the room. It was nearly identical to his own room at the other end of the hall, but the view out the window was of the woods behind the inn, a dark shape rubbed into the horizon by a giant thumb, obscured by layer upon layer of thick snowflakes.
Grey upon grey.
He motioned to Hammersmith, and the sergeant led Hester into the room and helped her sit on the edge of the bed. The three men left the room, joined Sutton Price in the hall, and shut the door on Hester.
“Someone should be stationed up here in the hall, in case the doctor needs something,” Day said.
And, he didn’t say, to keep an eye on Hester Price. Hammersmith would understand. One never knew what a grieving parent might be capable of doing.
“You can handle. .” Hammersmith waved his hand, taking in Bennett Rose and Sutton Price.
“We’ll be fine.”
Hammersmith nodded and went to the door of the room where Kingsley was presumably working. He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms, patient and ready. Day wondered how much the sergeant had recovered. He guessed not at all. It was very like Hammersmith to ignore himself until he collapsed. But the case was nearly finished. By tomorrow they would be back in London, and Day would recommend that Hammersmith be
