The train ride to Church Street was only eventful in that we spent most of it arguing about who we thought would be holding the mysterious burner phone when we found it. Sherlock was obviously refusing to see reason.
“It’s not about reason. It’s about objectivity!” Sherlock punctuated his point with a finger in the air that I kind of wanted to rip off his hand.
“So you’re saying I’m incapable of being objective.”
“I’m saying your guilt is keeping you from looking at the most likely suspect.”
The man in the seat across from mine pretended to be reading something on his mobile, but his shifty eyes made me lower my voice. “Why in the world would I feel guilty toward—”
“Lily Patel.”
“You are fixated on Lily Patel.”
“I’m fixated on the evidence.”
“If Lily hated me, she could torture me at school. If she had any evidence against me or my father, she’d go directly to the prosecutor. She obviously has someone there updating her about the case, because she knew about the police finding the sword and that I’d been accused of throwing it in the lake. She doesn’t need to make anonymous calls and resort to magazine-collage threats.”
“Maybe.” Lock grabbed my hand. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
I was trying to decide whether to let him continue to hold my hand or whether to use it as a counterbalance to toss him into the aisle when my mobile rang. I used it as an excuse to pull free.
“Mori, where are you?” It was Alice. “Tell me where you are.” She was crying. “It’s Michael. He’s been hurt.”
“Hurt how?”
“It’s bad, Mori. We’re at Charing Cross.”
? ? ?
I’d thought I’d never have another reason to enter Charing Cross, but after Alice’s call, I couldn’t seem to get through the doors fast enough. I followed the signs toward the emergency room and found Alice, Freddie, and Sean sitting vigil in front of two giant doors covered in warnings that only hospital staff were allowed beyond.
I turned to Alice. “Is he in there?”
Alice reached for the hand I’d used to gesture at the doors and held it like she was afraid I’d run through them if she didn’t. “He’s in surgery. His arm is broken and there’s pressure on his brain.”
Something inside me cracked in half, but instead of pain or fear or anger, I just felt numb. “His brain?” I sank down onto the bench next to my brothers. A broken arm would heal, of course, but my mind spun with all the ways a head injury could change Michael’s life forever.
Alice sank down next to me, but Lock kept standing, still holding my hand. “They said he should be fine, but they won’t know—”
“Until they relieve the pressure on his brain,” I finished for her.
She nodded, though I wished she had argued with me, told me there was no chance that my sweetest, most gentle little brother might have brain damage. I closed my eyes and an image of his scared face streamed through my thoughts. All of the numb turned to heat in my chest, so that by the time I spoke again, my words came out shaky and low.
“Who?”
Alice’s free hand came up to hold my arm. “Calm down and I’ll tell you what happened.”
“Who? Who did this?” I was feigning calm, or attempting to. But I imagined even a complete stranger would have noticed the way every muscle in my arms and shoulders was tensed. I was a cat ready to pounce.
Alice glanced between Lock and the boys, then stood up suddenly, pulling me to my feet as well. “Come with me.”
We left Sherlock behind with an ashen-faced Freddie and a glaring, angry Sean. Alice pulled me past the elevators that led to the wards and into the dimly lit staircase. The light was flickering above us as she sat on a step and I leaned back against the cold concrete wall.
Alice started to speak, but I cut her off. “If you don’t tell me everything, I’ll leave right now to find out for myself.”
“We need you here. Those boys out there have done nothing but ask for you since we got here.”
“WHO DID THIS TO HIM?” My shout echoed through the stairwell so that everything seemed especially quiet just after. I took a breath that did nothing to calm me down. “Tell me what happened!”
Alice paused, and then in her most quiet voice, she said, “Someone tried to take Sean when we were walking back from the market.”
“What do you mean, ‘take’ him?”
“A black van pulled up just in front of us, and when we walked by it, some big guy jumped out and grabbed Sean. Freddie and I managed to fight him off, but when the driver jumped out too, Michael panicked and ran out into the street.”
Big guy, black van. It was just what Michael had described before, and back then Officer Parsons was sitting behind the wheel. Of course he panicked.