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“I have not investigated a disappearance in recent memory. Is there some indication that a crime has been committed?”

Superintendent Mercer pointed to the pages in front of Gideon. “There is a murder connected to the case, Inspector. The clipping below the first.”

Gideon found another, larger newspaper clipping below the first and scanned its contents. It detailed the death of a young lady by the name of Calliope Collier, who had been pulled from the Thames near Blackfriars Bridge Friday of the previous week.

“Are you aware of the case?” Director Vincent asked.

“I am not, sir.” Gideon had a pile of newspapers at home that he vowed to read when he returned from the station in the evening, but he often found himself preferring a novel or a book of Shakespeare’s plays.

“Initially, Detective Purdy of the Thames River Police suspected that Miss Collier had entered the river of her own devices,” Director Vincent said. “Quite large river rocks were found in the pockets of her skirt and inside her corset.”

Chief Douglas slid another document toward Gideon. “But the next day, the police surgeon conducted a postmortem examination and his findings were surprising. None of this was public until the inquest, which took place yesterday.”

Gideon read over the tight, neat lines of the doctor’s report, then flipped the page to a rough drawing of the body. Several injuries were noted. Knife wounds of varying depths. The surgeon had drawn arrows to six separate cuts, roughly half to the young woman’s chest and the rest to the area of her lower abdomen. “Unlikely to have caused death,” the surgeon had written. The cuts were small and shallow, but he also detailed extensive bruising around the young lady’s throat, which he concluded was consistent with manual asphyxiation. This, he determined, had been the cause of her death.

The surgeon noted, “There is water in the lungs, but not in such quantity as I should expect were drowning the cause of death.”

“So she did not jump into the Thames,” Gideon said, stating what seemed an obvious conclusion from the doctor’s findings.

“No,” Director Vincent agreed. “Miss Collier met her end elsewhere and was then placed in the river. It is murder.”

“I take it E Division is investigating based on where Miss Collier was located.”

“Initially, they began the investigation, but oversight of the case has been moved to the Yard,” Mercer replied. “As has the matter of Miss Delacourt’s disappearance.”

“They are connected in some way?”

Vincent nodded. “They were acquainted. Friends, according to the Delacourt family, and both engaged in volunteer work at the British Museum under the direction of Medieval Antiquities Keeper Archibald Kerrigan. It seems likely it is more than mere coincidence, though as yet no connection has been determined by Hardy during his inquiries regarding Miss Collier’s death.”

Gideon slid the physician’s report back on the chief’s desk and cast a glance at each man in turn. “How may I assist in this investigation?”

He wasn’t certain why his efforts would be required when B Division’s detectives, or Scotland Yard’s detectives, were capable of investigating the matter.

“Miss Delacourt’s family is eager to find her, as you can imagine,” Director Vincent said, “before any harm can befall her.”

“Of course.” Did they want him to speak to the family, assist the detectives at the Yard?

“I understand,” Vincent continued, “that you are acquainted with a lady by the name of Miss Electra Poole.”

Gideon jolted at Electra’s name. He had mentioned her in the course of writing reports that she’d been either directly or tangentially involved with—the Becknell case and most recently the murder of Percival Pennington.

“I am acquainted with Miss Poole, yes.”

More than acquainted. Some among his colleagues knew he had been mentored by the late Detective Inspector Erasmus Poole. A few knew the man had taken him in when Gideon was a child. None knew of the bond he’d formed with Poole’s only daughter as a child and of the complicated feelings he carried for her now.

“She is a lady who claims to possess unique gifts.” Superintendent Mercer’s voice held a dubious note. “According to the newspapers, she predicted the death of Lady Becknell.”

Gideon nodded. That case had reunited them after Electra had broken contact for years after the death of her father.

“And she assisted in the Pennington case more recently,” Vincent added.

“Yes, she was somewhat involved in that case.” Gideon couldn’t resist the urge to clarify, though he had never truly spelled out in his report how crucial her insights had been in solving the case. Not because he did not value her abilities. He could not begin to explain how she saw and knew what she did, but he no longer doubted that she could read others’ memories and occasionally see visions of the future.

Yet, equally, he could not dispel the urge to protect her each time she became embroiled in a criminal investigation. Murderers went to extreme lengths to cover the path to their deadly actions.

“Do you believe her, Pierce?” Director Vincent asked.

Gideon looked at the older man, who appraised him with his dark gaze.