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Hari had told me at the outset—someone had sent for my mother. Had her brought here to Saint Oda’s. He hadn’t known why, but I was beginning to suspect that it had to do with von Keller and his fascination with Mr. Owen’s otherworld. My hands began to shake. I swallowed hard, struggling to focus. The air did not want to enter my lungs as I took in his words. How had I not realized it? Von Keller had brought them all here so he could study them—but what else had he done? Could his interest in them have led to these murders? Killing to hide whatever he was doing here …

Dr. Peterson checked his watch again, before straightening. “I’m running late for my rounds. But be careful, Mrs. Vaughn. I’d hate to see you come to harm like the others.”

My head swam, with that familiar ache returning behind one eye. I could scarcely think, let alone put two words together.

I made it about halfway down the hall when I saw Father Crawford coming in from outside, his dark saturno hat shielding his face from the sun. He turned to me and tutted with worry. “Goodness, child. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come … come let me fix you some tea…”

“I’m fine. Truly.” I needed to get to Ruan, to tell him what I’d learned. He’d been right all along. This had everything to do with the otherworld and von Keller was at the center of it all.

“Nonsense, I was just coming in from the garden. A pot of tea would do us both a bit of good.”

I opened my mouth to argue but thought better of it. Perhaps the old priest could shed additional light onto what von Keller was doing here. Mind made up, I followed him down the corridor away from von Keller’s office to a solitary wooden door at the far end of the hall. He pushed it open, pouring water from a pitcher into a kettle and setting it atop a big coal-fired stove to heat. He dug around in an antique tea caddy, filling a silver ball with the loose leaves before dropping it into the pot.

All the while I watched him, my mind turned over what Dr. Peterson had said. What had von Keller discovered that caused him to go to the authorities now?

“Would you care for a pear, my dear?” The priest’s question pulled me from my thoughts. He held the green fruit in his palm, offering it to me.

I shook my head and he proceeded to take a bite himself.

“I came to see von Keller this morning. I heard what happened last night in the woods. The village is abuzz with it.” A minor lie, but likely the village was humming with the news. I just hadn’t heard it yet.

Father Crawford frowned, his silvery brows knitting together. “Very terrible. I heard the same. They believe a patient from the hospital is the culprit.”

I stiffened. “That’s preposterous.”

He gave me a queer look. “Is it?”

As I began to reply, the door pushed open, revealing the handsome visage of Father Étienne. Dark bruises of exhaustion were visible beneath his eyes, and a shadow crossed his normally clean-shaven jaw. Evidently, he’d not slept any better than Ruan had last night. The young priest watched me with barely concealed anger. One I could not understand.

“Étienne, my boy!” the old priest said with a smile, but the younger man did not take his gaze off me. “Come, have tea with us.”

He gave his head a slight shake. “I thought I might find you alone, Father.”

The old priest stood, grabbing the handle of the kettle with the fabric of his cassock and pouring the steaming liquid into the teapot. “I bumped into Mrs. Vaughn here at the hospital and thought we might have some tea.”

Étienne’s dark gaze bored into me. “Did you?” The words an accusation. He turned to Father Crawford, schooling his expression. What in the world had happened between last night and today? When we’d been at the lake, he’d not given two thoughts to me, concerned as he was about Félix, but today? Today one would think I was the killer.

Father Crawford rested his left hand upon an overburdened shelf—full to bursting with religious tomes, scientific treatises, journals. Essays. Were I not so distracted by the specter that was Father Étienne, I might have inquired about the collection. “Yes, of course I did. What has come over you, my boy? You should join us. A cup of tea might be good for you as well.”

Étienne shook his head stiffly. “I cannot. I just came by to ask about the homily Sunday. If you’ve had a moment to read what I’d written for you.”

The older priest gave him an indulgent smile, tapping a large sheaf of papers sitting atop his desk. “Not yet. But it’s just here. I was going to sit down with it today.”

Étienne nodded politely before leaving, pulling the door just to—not fully closed.

I stared at the doorway where he’d been. “Do you think he’s quite all right? He seemed … flustered.”

Father Crawford poured two cups of tea and let out a laugh. “He’s fine, my child. Étienne has an artist’s temperament just as Félix does. He’s likely offended I haven’t read his work yet and am wasting my hours brewing tea. Though I confess I am curious about you. What brings you to the hospital today?”

I took the offered cup from him, blowing on the steam. “It is as I said. I came to see Dr. von Keller. I had some more questions about my mother.” Not entirely a lie, I supposed. “I ran into Dr. Peterson, who told me von Keller left early this morning and hasn’t been seen since.”

Father Crawford made a low sound in his chest. “I haven’t seen the fellow since he set off to speak with the gendarmerie this morning either. I do not care for the way he treats Félix, locking him away in that room. Any time one of the poor souls step out of line, it’s into the isolation room for a week. Forgive me for saying it—but I cannot abide such behavior. It is barbaric.”

I took a sip, rather in agreement with him. Then another thought struck me, a question I could not help but voice. “My mother … do you know if he ever put her there?”

Father Crawford came to me and laid a hand over mine. It was all the answer I needed. My poor mother. My mind flicked back to the poison-fueled dream I’d had days before. Of the silence and darkness and cold tile beneath my feet. Was she trying to tell me something … show me something?

“Where is it?”