Page 60 of From the Ashes
I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes too. I didn't feel as if I slept a wink, but when I reopened my eyes it was lighter. A lackluster beam of sunlight struggled through the barred window, brightening more of the cell than the gas lamp. I remained still for a long time so as not to wake the sleeping girl. I could make out scratch marks on the walls, made by bored or scared prisoners. Some of them even formed names. I read as many as I could decipher to pass the time and to keep my mind off our investigation, off Lincoln, and off the memories of the last time I'd been locked in a holding cell. I wasn't very successful on any count.
The woman on the bed rolled over and broke wind. She then proceeded to snort and hawk up snot at regular intervals. When I'd lived with boys' gangs, I'd learned to ignore their disgusting habits. After a few months of living a mannered and clean life, my tolerance for bodily noises had diminished.
The scraping of the lock drawing back and the door opening acted like an alarm bell. The woman on the bed sat bolt upright, mumbling something into her chins that I couldn't make out. The girl leaning against me also sat up and rubbed her eyes. Upon sight of the constable, she once again curled into me, clinging to my arm.
"Miss Charlotte Holloway, come with me, please," he said. "Inspector will speak to you now."
The girl's fingers gripped harder. She blinked back at me.
"My name's Charlie," I told her.
"Betty."
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Betty. Here." I removed the coat from my shoulders and wrapped it around her. "Keep this. I have another." And she was going to need it more than me.
"You're released too, Betty," the constable said. "Since this is your first time and the goods weren't found on you, you've been let off with a warning. Come with me, both of you."
Betty choked back a cry. "Thank God," she muttered. "Thank God." She hugged me and I hugged her back. "You're my lucky charm, Miss Charlie."
I smiled with genuine happiness. Not only for her, but also for me. The constable had said she was being released 'too.' Did that mean I wasn't being charged? "Take care, Betty."
"What about me?" cried the woman on the bed with an indignant scowl.
"You get to enjoy the peace and quiet in here a while longer, Jenny," the constable said with a chuckle.
She lay down again with the loudest snort yet. "Pigs."
Betty and I followed the constable down the corridor to the front of the station. Betty was handed over to another constable who led her to one office while I was led to another. Lincoln met me at the door. His seer's senses must have anticipated my approach.
His burning gaze washed over my face, twice. "Charlie." He cupped my jaw in his hands and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. He didn't have to. It was all there in his eyes and touch. He'd been worried all night, and now sheer relief rendered him speechless.
He still cared. I was sure of it now.
I placed my hands over his and gently pulled them away. "You look tired."
"Miss Holloway, sit," the inspector said, indicating a chair. He was a middle-aged fellow with a sagging face and unhurried movements. His eyes, however, darted over me. I got the feeling he missed nothing. "I just have a few questions and then you may go."
Lincoln squeezed my hand. I hoped my answers matched his. I sat at the desk with the little wooden name plate telling me that the saggy faced policeman was Detective Inspector Donald.
"Tell me about that fellow you met, Mannering," the inspector said.
"Is that his name?" I asked in my most innocent voice. "Dr. Bell said it was, but he didn't introduce himself to me. Mr. Fitzroy and I were minding our own business walking past Barts and that ghastly fellow approached us. He said he'd harm us if we didn't go to Dr. Bell's office and question him about his work. We did, but Dr. Bell told us nothing. That man was furious and demanded we help him break in during the night. Very reluctantly, Mr. Fitzroy hired a coach and drivers, then we returned to the hospital. He made us wait for him." The story was so weak, it barely held together. I hoped Inspector Donald was a dull-witted fellow easily intimidated by Lincoln's scowls.
"Can you describe him to me?"
I did, but in vague terms so that the description would most likely match Bell's but could be attributed to many men.
"The thing is," Inspector Donald said, "Mannering's dead."
"Then it couldn't have been him, could it? Dr. Bell must have been mistaken."
"The other thing is, I don't believe you." He turned to Lincoln. "Either of you."
Lincoln went very still. I wanted to reach for his hand again, but I dared not move. The inspector might see it as a sign of guilt.
Inspector Donald stood and buttoned up his waistcoat. "However, I've been ordered by my superiors to release you. I don't really care why. It's one less thing on my plate. Good day to you both. You may collect your things from the constable on your way out."
I was too stunned to move until Lincoln stood. "Good day, Inspector. Thank you for your time."
