The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [344]
The Doctor and I ran over to her immediately, myself taking care to quickly pry the pistol from her hand. For his part, the Doctor lifted her head and examined her eyes, then felt her neck for a pulse. He must’ve sensed something, being as he said, “Elspeth? Elspeth Franklin?”
As the last air left her lungs, Libby managed to form the words “always needing.” Then she was gone, and the Doctor reached out to close the golden eyes for the last time.
I don’t know how long the pair of us crouched there looking at her, but I do know that what finally brought us around was the sound of knocking on the underside of the hatchway cover.
“Sara?” It was Mr. Moore’s voice, shouting up from below the closed entryway. “Stevie, Kreizler—what the hell happened, are you all right?”
Both the hatchway cover and Miss Howard’s body jumped a bit as Mr. Moore tried to get up onto the roof; and with the bumping movement Miss Howard began to come around, first groaning and then, as her eyes opened, rolling over and falling onto the roof with a small grunt.
“Sara,” the Doctor said urgently. He lay Libby Hatch out on the roof quickly, then ran over to where Miss Howard lay just as Mr. Moore leapt up and out of the hatchway.
“Good Christ,” he said, taking in the scene. “What the hell happened here?”
Ignoring the question, the Doctor pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and lifted Miss Howard’s shoulders up onto his knee. Then he began to wipe at and examine the spot on her head where she’d been hit, soon satisfying himself that it wasn’t a serious wound. Gently rubbing and patting her cheeks with his hand, he finally got her to focus on him.
“Doctor,” she breathed. Looking around, she tried dizzily to make a move. “What happened—where—”
The Doctor held her still. “Be calm, Sara,” he said with a smile, brushing her hair out of her face as Mr. Moore and I gathered round. “It’s over. At least, this part of it is.” Then he turned her so that, without moving her head much, she could see Libby Hatch’s body.
“She’s—dead?” Miss Howard said; and in spite of the fact that she was still a little groggy, I could hear a faint touch of sadness in her voice.
“Yes,” the Doctor answered gently, sensing, I think, how she felt.
Miss Howard watched the body for a few more seconds; then, in a quick sort of spasm, she made a noise what seemed like a combination of a gasp and a lone, deep sob. She turned her head back toward us, and I could see a tear on her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping the tear away as fast as she was able. “I know I shouldn’t—”
The Doctor quieted her with a little shushing sound, and rubbed her cheek softly again. “Don’t apologize. Someone should shed a tear at this moment.” He paused, then looked over at Libby Hatch. “But I confess that I cannot. I cannot…”
Miss Howard suddenly looked puzzled. “But—” she said, trying to sit up, “who—”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Mr. Moore said, glancing at the Doctor and me.
“Take a look at her neck,” I told him.
Making his way carefully across the roof, as if Libby might still jump up and have at him, Mr. Moore carefully examined the body, then nodded. “Oh … so it was the aborigine, after all.” He retrieved Miss Howard’s Colt, then glanced at the rooftops around us. “Where is he?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Pretty far, by now, and still moving. I hope.”
“Well, we’d better have that arrow,” Mr. Moore answered, cautiously reaching down to remove the thing from Libby’s neck. “I wouldn’t want to try to explain it to Roosevelt,” he added, tossing the missile over the edge of the roof into the backyard. “And I’m sure the wound will be mysterious enough to confound whatever fool coroner the police engage.” Walking back across the roof quickly, he gave me a questioning but approving look. “Did the two of you plan this, Stevie?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say we planned it,” I answered.
The Doctor looked up at me, uncertainty and pride showing together in a slight smile. “Your gambling