“They are getting away with it,” Corinne said. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen it.”
The iron corridors, the glistening white tile, the draining blood—she didn’t think she would ever be able to stop seeing it.
“What are you suggesting, then?” James asked.
“We save Ada,” Corinne said. “And then . . . I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“We have to get her out of Haversham tonight,” Saint said. “And I don’t think we can pull it off without you two.”
Madeline and James looked at each other, their conversation a silent one.
“I’ve always wanted to play a doctor,” James said.
“The Mythic is in the red anyway,” Madeline said. “I don’t suppose some light felonies will do us any harm.”
“Thank you,” Corinne said. She had never meant those two words so much. She glanced at Saint. “Thank you.”
“Please tell me there is an actual plan in place,” Madeline said. “Or are we expected to come up with that as well?”
“I think I have an idea,” Corinne said. “But we need a songsmith.”
“Everyone who worked at the Cast Iron is gone,” Saint said. “I don’t know where to find them.”
“Actually, I have someone else in mind,” Corinne said. “We need to make a stop at the Red Cat.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They stayed at the Mythic long enough for Madeline and James to get dressed and for Corinne to talk them through her plan. Then Corinne and Madeline set off for the Red Cat on foot, while James and Saint gathered the rest of what they needed from the theater.
“Meet us with the car in two hours,” Madeline said as she and Corinne slipped into the alley. “Don’t be late.”
“We’ll be there,” James said.
“I’m serious. You two had better not waste any time canoodling. You’re a married man, James.”
James shut the door on her, and Madeline laughed.
The Red Cat was less than a mile away from the theater. The sky was heavy with the promise of more snow, and they both shivered in their coats as they walked.
“You think this will work?” Madeline asked when they were almost there.
“I’ve gotten into the Red Cat before,” Corinne said. “Their security isn’t as tight as they like to pretend.”
“No, I mean everything. The whole plan.”
“I don’t know,” Corinne said. “But I don’t see what other choice we have.”
“And then what?” Madeline asked softly. “Are we even going to be able to stay in Boston?”
Corinne was quiet for half a block. A taxi revved past them, its headlights momentarily blinding and then fading into the distance.
“I don’t know, Maddy,” she said at last. “I guess I don’t really know anything right now.”
“I gave up everything for that stupid theater,” Madeline said. “Everyone thought I was mad. My family barely acknowledges me anymore. You know what my father’s last words to me were? He told me he wished I had turned out better. Who says that on their deathbed?”
“Someone who was disappointed in his own life and wants to take it out on you,” Corinne said.
“No,” Madeline said. Her voice was faint, and Corinne could see her puffs of white breath as they passed under a streetlight. “Someone who really means it.”
The Red Cat came into view. Its glittering sign still lit up the street, reflecting red and gold off the slick sidewalk. The doorman in his navy-blue uniform and cap was still standing watch, though there was no sound of music.
“Now’s a good time for your brilliant plan,” Madeline said, giving no evidence of her fragility moments before.
“You ever seen Eva Carson?”
“A couple of times. The Carsons show up at the Mythic occasionally.”
“Think you can pull her off?”
Madeline considered, then nodded.
“Perfect,” Corinne said. “Then we’ll just walk in like you own the place.”
Madeline closed her eyes for a few seconds, tilting her head to the left, then the right. She chewed on her lips, shook her shoulders loose, and cleared her throat. It wasn’t an instant transformation. It was more like the pieces of Madeline that were most like Eva Carson—the big eyes, the puckered lower lip—became more like Eva. The parts of Madeline that were nothing like Eva became less and less important, gradually eclipsed until suddenly the exact image of Eva was standing in front of Corinne. She picked at one of her red manicured nails and looked over Corinne with a haughty eye.
“Are we going to stand here all night then?” she asked. The voice wasn’t exactly right, but it was close enough.
Corinne couldn’t help but smile.
They went straight to the front door.
“Excuse you,” Madeline said to the doorman, who blocked their way.
“Mrs. Carson?” he said, blinking. “I didn’t see you go out.”
“I was stealing a smoke,” Madeline said, patting his lapel in a dismissive gesture. “I found this little vagabond while I was out there. We’re going to have a chat inside.”
The man looked between her and Corinne, his mouth gaping. “Mrs. Carson, if you want, I could—”