THIRTY

It was impossible not to wonder how everything might be connected. I’d been trying so hard to put it all together that my brain hurt. After Birk dropped me off, I went directly to the warehouse just so I could be alone, with the hope that something good would come from some quiet pondering. So far nothing had.

“Why in the world was Ritchie John killed?” I asked aloud, to no one except ghosts who might be hanging out in the warehouse with me.

Ritchie John worked with horses as well as behind a bar. He’d worked for Birk, but I still didn’t know the reasons he’d left except that he seemed scared and in a hurry to go. No one at Birk’s stables could understand why, but there had been a cashbox incident. The money had been returned. Other than that righted infraction, nothing else seemed to have gone sideways the day Shelagh’s horses and people had been at Birk’s stables.

Winston had been in trouble with Shelagh the day I’d met him. I didn’t know anything at all about Winston other than that Shelagh was worried about his alleged drinking and he was Findlay Sweet’s brother.

Despite all the new pieces of the possible puzzle, my mind kept going back to Findlay Sweet. He and Winston were also roommates. Were they up to something together? Louis seemed to like Findlay well enough, but that might not mean anything.

Everyone at the bookshop had gone home. I was the last one there. Rosie and Hector had walked over to let me know they were leaving and that Hamlet had left an hour earlier. An hour or so ago, I’d glanced up at the dark widows along the top of the wall, thinking I should head home too. But I hadn’t. I’d spent more time lost in those brain-cramping thoughts.

I hadn’t visited Findlay and Winston’s flat. I knew where Findlay and Winston lived. Both addresses I’d been given for Findlay—from Hamlet and Jolie—were the same. I’d wanted to visit them, but other things had distracted me, and the police had told me they’d visited all of Shelagh’s employees’ homes. Still, I was curious.

It was as I was looking at both notes again that I remembered something. Hadn’t Jacques mentioned to me that Findlay and Winston’s flat was by Holyrood Palace? I was pretty sure he had. The identical address that Hamlet and Jolie had given me was nowhere near Holyrood. I was suddenly sure that’s why my intuition was nagging me as Tom and I were walking into the police station, pulling my attention toward the palace.

I walked over to the light side, double-checking all the door locks behind me. The lights had been turned off, except for a small lamp on the back table Hamlet had left on. As I came to the bottom of the stairs on the light side, I glanced out the front windows and gasped.

I was living in a real-life snow globe again.

The snow was falling; big, fluffy flakes whispering their way down from the clouds. The Grassmarket lamps and the bustling crowd made me think that Dickens must have somehow seen this particular sight too.

“How in the world did I get here?” I said to myself as I walked toward the window. I could have watched it for hours, but I had other things to do.

I called Tom, but he didn’t answer. I glanced up toward his pub, and though there wasn’t a line out the door, it was obvious by the shadows from the window that there were lots of people inside.

I dialed Birk, Edwin, and then Elias, but none of my rides seemed to be answering. Everyone must be busy.

I wasn’t going to knock on Findlay and Winston’s door without someone else with me, but I still wanted to see it, have a quick look, make sure it really wasn’t by Holyrood. I would look inside the bus, and then just ride back to the bookshop or home, depending on timing.

I texted Tom what I was doing, but there was no indication that he was able to read the text immediately. I texted Elias too, just to be safe.

I bundled up and stepped out into the snow-globe world. As luck would have it, it wasn’t too cold. I was once again glad for my new boots, though.

The bus showed up a few minutes later. I boarded and checked my phone. No response from anyone yet.

Last year the snow had caused a disruption in cell-phone coverage, which had led to some further trouble. I didn’t think that would be the case tonight, and I wasn’t doing anything dangerous anyway, so I wasn’t too worried.

The bus took a route toward Louis’s house, not anywhere near Holyrood. The falling snow softened the building’s sinister edges, but it still seemed run-down. Once we were farther into the neighborhood, it didn’t appear so charming. I tried not to be judgmental, but the obvious signs of drug activity were there.

We traveled through the worst parts quickly and came out to an area on the other side that felt safer, if not completely safe.

Conveniently, the bus drew to a stop right outside the building where I presumed Findlay and Winston lived. Their flat number was 315. I looked out the bus’s window, up to the third floor. Lights were on in the middle of three wide windows. Unless I climbed the stairs inside, I couldn’t know if that was their flat. I looked up for a long moment, comfortably warm and confident that the bus would be heading back toward the bookshop any minute and that I’d seen what I’d come to see. If someone had been with me, I would have knocked on the door, but not now.

Then I saw something that changed everything. I gasped as I stood for a better view. There was a face in the building’s third-floor window, and I was pretty sure it belonged to Shelagh O’Conner.

The bus started to pull away from the stop.

“Stop!” I yelled. “I mean, this is my stop. Sorry.”

Thankfully, the bus driver braked again. I hurried down the aisle toward the door, catching the driver’s impatient glance as I exited. Once I was off the bus, he closed the door and pulled away again. I reached into my pocket for my phone.

It wasn’t there.

I checked other pockets. It wasn’t in any of them. I’d just had it, hadn’t I?

Of course I had. I’d been looking at it on the bus, waiting for someone to either call or text me back. In a flurry of panic when I’d seen the face, I must have dropped it, either on the seat or to the floor.

I looked in the direction the bus had gone. Its taillights were still in view, but there was no way I’d be able to catch it.

“Oh, no,” I muttered. It was the understatement of all understatements.

I looked around. Just a street ago, there’d been people out and about—yes, some were homeless and some were dealing drugs, but I’d have asked anyone to borrow their phone for a minute.

But now everyone had disappeared, gone to seek shelter from the storm. I didn’t see any pedestrians, nor pubs or restaurants. Only buildings made into apartments, flats. I could knock on doors and ask for help, or I could travel back a block to a pub. I was pretty sure I’d seen one a moment ago. And I was just a few streets away from Louis’s house. I could try to run over the slushy sidewalks—I did have my new boots on.

I stepped sideways a bit and looked up at the window. It was still lit, but there were no faces in it anymore. No one standing there. Had I really seen what I thought I had?

I needed to call the police. Just one call to the police—999, that’s all I needed to do. Okay, I’d walk a block or so in the direction I’d come from and make a call at the first phone I found. It would be fine. If I had seen Shelagh, it seemed she hadn’t been in any huge distress. People used to function just fine without cell phones. I could figure this out.

I set out at the quickest pace I could manage given the weather. The snow was quiet now, drowned out by my breathing and the heartbeat in my ears.

I told myself to calm down. It was all going to be just fine.

But a moment later I knew it wasn’t going to be fine. It was going to be something else entirely.

I’d been walking past a close, not giving it a second glance. Before I could register much of anything, a figure rushed out of it—I saw it out the corner of my eye—in a shabby coat and hat. I didn’t get the chance to fully take in what this person looked like before a hand was over my mouth, an arm around my neck, from behind.

“Hush now,” a harsh voice said in my ear. “If you make a noise, I will kill you.”

My heartbeat got even louder in my ears, but I did exactly as the New Monster said. I stayed silent as I was snatched back into the close.