I glanced at him, then at the items on the shelves, then back to him. “You’re making me nervous.”
He quirked a smile. “I’ve been known to have that effect on people.”
My cheeks warmed, and the room grew smaller. That wasn’t what I’d meant, but maybe I could use it to my advantage. I wasn’t used to Slipping in front of people. “Perhaps some privacy? This isn’t something I usually try to do in front of anyone.” And all I could do now was hope I wasn’t making a terrible mistake. The memory of the inherent trust in the children’s eyes bolstered my confidence. Even if I didn’t know Detective Atwood that well, he was trustworthy.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not allowed to leave you alone with the evidence, but I could wait by the door?”
The tension in my shoulders eased. “Yes, please.”
He took a few hesitant steps back, then turned and faced the door. “Better?”
“Immensely. Thank you.” I glanced back at him. “Is it all right if I touch them?”
“You won’t mess anything up as long as you don’t try to walk out of here with something.”
I could hear the teasing smile in his voice, but just underneath it lurked a hint of worry. He wasn’t totally comfortable bringing me in to help, and I needed to show him I could be useful.
“I just need a few minutes.” I gathered the evidence in a pile on the floor, then sat with my back against the wall. I pulled on the finger of my left glove until I could yank it off. The cool air rushed to my hand, and I inhaled slowly. A fluttering in my stomach betrayed my nerves. Even though I could Slip to any point in the victim’s life, my chances were good that I’d be taken back to the time of the killing. Murder was bound to stir up strong emotions, and since these items were on him when he died, some of those emotions easily could’ve transferred to these objects. Which meant, I’d be face-to-face—well, spirit-to-face—with a murderer. But I couldn’t back out now. This was literally the one thing I had to offer that could convince him to let me join the case.
I reached for the pocket watch, which was surprisingly heavy and cool in my palm. After a moment, I put it back and picked up the next object—the unfamiliar metal device. I tensed, waiting for it to pull my spirit from my body. But, again, nothing happened. It also didn’t have any emotions strong enough to call me into the past.
Shakily, I checked the metal cog and the glasses, both with the same result. I swore under my breath. All that was left was the single knob, though I had no idea what sort of sentimental value a coin would have. If it didn’t have any memories attached, I’d have nothing to offer Detective Atwood.
My hand shook harder as I reached for it. Please let this wor—
As soon as I touched the metal, a blue spark yanked my spirit from my body. The world rushed around me again, a disorienting cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. Only the weight of the knob in my hand grounded me in place as I Slipped. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the barrage of sensations to slow. The world jolted to a stop, and I stumbled once, then regained my footing.
I looked around while the silence pressed in on me with an invisible, smothering weight. Until the knob’s owner appeared, I’d be alone in the nothingness. My fingers flexed automatically for my knife even though it was useless here.
The knob pulsed in my hand, like it was sending out a shock wave across the expanse of swirling black smoke and darkness.
In response, a man—probably in his late fifties—appeared beside me. His salt-and-pepper hair graced the sides of his head much more than the top, belying the youthful appearance he was going for by being clean-shaven. He wore a navy button-up shirt, gray slacks, and a pair of spectacles rested around his neck on a metal chain.
He looked around, his attention focusing on something in the distance. A skyscraper appeared—a towering monstrosity made of glass, polished brass, and clockwork mechanisms whose spire reached into the sky. We were definitely in the Upper Chimes, which didn’t make sense considering Detective Atwood had said the body was found in the Fifth Chime.
“How could I be late tonight of all nights?” the man muttered as he opened a pocket watch, the same pocket watch I held, with ink-stained fingers. He snapped it closed and took off down the street.
I hurried to keep up with him. Under his feet, the world transformed from smoke and shadows into paved cobblestone.
The knob thumped in my hand, counting down my remaining moments. Tension prickled across the back of my neck.
“Hurry, Arthur.” He glanced over his shoulder, then walked faster, crossing a bridge that arched over the river. He ran a hand along the rail, and the brass filigree details came into view. The man blinked and tilted his head up. A moment later, an aether lamp materialized, casting a blue glow on everything. If I’d had any doubt to where he was, the higher-quality aether lamp and fine craftsmanship of the bridge confirmed that he was in the Ninth Chime.
The fact that no one else appeared made me think he was talking to himself.
The man, Arthur, must’ve heard something, because his head whipped around. “Who’s there?”
I turned around, and the area transformed into the bridge with fog drifting across its surface. The murderer could be approaching right now, and I couldn’t see a thing. A sense of unease crept across my skin as I imagined being watched by unseen eyes from the shadows.
Arthur spun around and began walking more quickly, clutching a gear-adorned satchel-style briefcase to his chest.
Detective Atwood hadn’t said anything about a briefcase, meaning the killer must’ve taken it from the scene of the crime. It was hard to know if the briefcase was the motive for the murder or just another attempt to throw the Blue Capes off. But it had to be important.
“Someone, help!” Arthur swung his head to the side again, but this time he didn’t bother to stop or call out to his pursuer. He simply took off running, holding the satchel tightly to his chest.
His fear leaked to me, and my heart beat faster as I ran to keep up with him. I couldn’t risk getting separated and lost in the mist, not when I needed to see the killer.
Arthur ducked between two buildings, whose long shadows loomed over him in the blue light of an aether lamp.
The knob thumped again in my hand. A constant reminder that I was running out of time.
“Leave me alone!” Arthur’s heavy breathing and the thump of his footsteps on the paved cobblestones were the only sounds until the echo of footsteps sounded behind him. He was being chased.
Arthur tripped and went sprawling, his briefcase flying from his hands.
Behind us, the footfalls grew louder. Nearer.
I turned, but the footfalls were bodiless, a sinister echo coming from the empty street. I wouldn’t be able to see the murderer until the victim did.
Thump. Thump.
The knob continued its relentless countdown; the pace growing frantic to match Arthur’s wide-eyed gaze and my own racing pulse.
Arthur tried to climb to his feet, then winced in pain. Instead, he reached for his briefcase and pulled it to him, then he wrapped a hand around his ankle.
The sound of footsteps grew louder.
“Good evening, professor,” a man said from the shadows. “Lovely night for a stroll, innit?”
I stiffened at the dark, familiar voice. It really was him. The man from before. The murderer.
“Stay away from me.” Arthur—the professor—turned and stared at the killer with wide eyes.
“Come now,” the killer said. “Don’t be like that. Just give me the briefcase, and I’ll be on my way.”
My gaze darted to the object Arthur clutched tightly. Something in it was worth killing for.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Not everyone around you is as trustworthy as you think.” The murderer emerged from the mist like a wraith, his dark clothes blending in with the swirling mist on the edges of the street. His mouth twisted into a grin while I tried to commit every detail to memory.
The killer’s sharp, angular features exuded an air of malevolence and cunning, but maybe that was just because I knew what he was about to do. His piercing eyes were set deep within their sockets and almost hidden under his top hat, making them nothing more than glints of black that seemed to track the man with his shadowy gaze.
“Help! Somebody, help!” Arthur cried as he scrambled away with his one free hand while the other still clutched his briefcase to his chest.
“Now professor, you know as well as I do that no one is around right now.” The killer took a step forward.
“You can’t have my research,” Arthur said.
The fear in his voice sent my pulse racing faster. If only there was something I could do, but it was impossible for me to interact with the past. I was even more helpless than he was.
The killer’s thin, cruel lips lifted in a sneer as he closed the remaining distance between them. “I’m simply here to make sure it’s put to good use. After all, isn’t that what the technological advancements are for—to benefit the people?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The knob continued its countdown.
“Please, no—” The professor’s cry cut off as the man stabbed him. He collapsed to the ground, mud splattering across his clothes.