Page 57 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
“If I lost the key when I tripped, itwasone of them. I’m sure of it.”
Alex began to pace the floor, striding back and forth between bookshelves.
I edged closer to one of the shelves, too, seeking a measure of comfort from the paper in the books. This time, it offered none. The direction of my thoughts was awful. Almost too awful to say out loud, but someone had to. I suspected we were all thinking the same thing anyway. “Stanley Greville spent time in Rosebank Gardens after the war. He knew Frank Alcott. I remember seeing them talking in the hospital grounds.”
Alex continued to pace. Willie’s head didn’t rise from where she’d lowered it, her fingers buried in her tangled hair. Only Cyclops was capable of acting. It was he who rallied Alex and Willie by taking the decision-making out of their hands.
“We’ll visit him now. If we present him with our evidence, hopefully he’ll give in and release Gabe.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked.
Cyclops didn’t answer. He placed his hat on his head and strode out of the library.
Noneof us were particularly surprised to find that Stanley Greville no longer lived in the small flat where we’d visited him before. According to the new tenant, he’d moved out only two days prior and not left a forwarding address. Stanley’s disappearance all but confirmed his guilt.
Willie slumped against the wall beside the flat’s door and leaned forward, her hands on her knees. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.
“It’s not your fault,” Cyclops told her. “You had no reason to distrust Greville.”
Alex leaned against the wall beside her. “None of us did.” He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Now what do we do?”
“We call on Francis Stray and Juan Martinez,” I said. “They might have a new address for Stanley.”
Alex pushed off from the wall. He and his father strode ahead and quickly descended the stairs. Willie hadn’t moved. Her breathing was more even, but she was still bent over.
“Alex is right,” I told her. “Don’t blame yourself. The only one at fault is Stanley.”
She slowly straightened. I thought my words had got through to her, but the haunted look in her eyes told another story. It reminded me of the look I’d seen in so many men’s eyes since the war ended. I’d seen it in Gabe’s, too, when we first met. It was guilt. In their case, it was the guilt of having survived when so many perished. In Willie’s, it was the guilt of playing a role in Gabe’s abduction.
Her mouth twitched and twisted with the effort not to succumb to her emotions. “Gabe’s my family. He’s like a son to me. Not only did I fail to protect him, I gave his abductor the means to enter the house. If it weren’t for me… If I hadn’t gone out that night… If I hadn’t got drunk, I wouldn’t have tripped…” She buried her face in her hands.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think like that, Willie.” I gave her shoulders a little shake in an attempt to rally her. “Anyway, it’s quite possible Stanley deliberately tripped you up and picked the key out of your pocket when he went to your aid.”
She lowered her hands and fixed me with a wide-eyed stare. At least it was no longer haunted. “Hedidhelp me up. I reckon I didn’t drop the key. Hestoleit from my pocket.” She threw her arms around me. It was the most affection she’d ever shown me.
I patted her back, but she suddenly drew away.
She raced to the staircase, her movements quicker than a woman half her age. “Come on, Sylv, we got to interrogate Francis and Juan.”
Gabe’s mathematician friend,Francis Stray, was a literal man who found social interactions both confusing and taxing, so he tended to avoid people, particularly if he didn’t know them well. Added to that, he wasn’t very adept at reading a person’s emotions, so when he immediately invited us inside upon seeing us on his doorstep, it was a testament to how worried and desperate we appeared. We were all finding it difficult to mask our anxiety.
“Gabe’s been abducted by Stanley Greville,” Willie said before I could think of a less confronting way to inform Francis of the reason for our visit. “Do you know where Stanley is?”
Francis blinked at her. “At his flat, I assume.”
“He no longer lives there.”
Willie looked around, as if she wanted to destroy something in frustration. Fortunately, she refrained. Francis’s flat wasn’t large, but it was neat and tidy, like the man himself. Nothing was out of place, not a single book or hair on his head. The only evidence he’d just arrived home from work was the steam rising from the spout of the kettle on the portable stove.
Francis’s gaze shifted between each of us, but it settled on me. Perhaps he thought of me as the least intimidating. “I don’t understand. Gabe is strong and capable. How could someone simply take him? Why would Stanley?”
I directed him to sit down, then sat opposite. Francis didn’t like to be touched, so I kept my distance when usually I’d offer a comforting hand. “We’re sorry to barge in like this, Francis, but it’s important to act quickly. As Willie said, Gabe was abducted. It appears chloroform was used to subdue him.”
He nodded. “That makes sense.”
“We’ve uncovered a number of clues that point to Stanley’s involvement.”
“None of which we have time to go through now,” Willie added.
