Chapter 13 - The Man Who Cleaned BloodSilas Crane lived in a house without flowers.
That was the first thing Clara noticed when Thomas took her there two nights later.
It stood beyond the old mill road, narrow and gray, with shuttered windows and a yard where nothing grew. Not weeds. Not ivy. Not even moss.
A house like that did not welcome life.
It hid rot.
Clara had been ordered by everyone to stay behind with Rose. She did not. She left Rose safely with Mrs. Bell and came wearing a plain cloak, the Whitmore ring on her finger, and a pistol in her pocket.
Thomas disapproved.
Agnes approved loudly enough for both of them.
Now Clara stood beneath dripping trees while Thomas knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
The door opened an inch.
A man’s eye appeared.
Then the door tried to close.
Thomas forced it open.
Silas Crane was older than Clara expected, thin as a dead branch, with yellow-gray hair and a mouth that looked carved from resentment.
His gaze landed on Clara’s face.
For one second, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Rose,” he whispered.
Clara stepped inside. “Her daughter.”
Silas backed away.
The house smelled of damp paper and old tobacco. Shelves lined the walls. Locked cabinets. Muddy boots. Maps pinned with needles.
Thomas shut the door. “Daniel came here.”
Silas laughed. “Many men come here.”
Clara removed the pistol. “Not many men cut ropes holding pregnant wives.”
Silas’s laugh died.
Upstairs, something creaked.
Thomas looked up.
Silas moved too fast for an old man. He grabbed a knife from his sleeve and lunged at Clara.
She fired.
The shot hit the wall beside his head.
Silas froze.
Clara’s hand shook, but her voice did not.
“Next one goes where Vivian should have put your conscience.”
Thomas disarmed him.
They searched upstairs.
In the back room, they found Daniel.
Not hiding.
Bleeding.
He sat in a chair, one hand pressed to his side, his face white with pain.
Silas had stabbed him.
Daniel looked up at Clara and smiled weakly.
“You came.”
“Not for you.”
His smile cracked.
Thomas checked the wound. “He’ll live if treated.”
Clara almost hated the relief she felt.
Daniel’s eyes followed her. “Mother lied to me too.”
Clara said nothing.
“She told me I was saving what was mine.”
“You were killing what was mine.”
He flinched.
From downstairs, Silas shouted under guard, “Ask her what Vivian did to Rose!”
Clara ran back down.
Silas laughed as Thomas’s men held him.
“She didn’t just send her away,” he said. “She made her mad first.”
Clara’s stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
Silas leaned forward.
“Laudanum. Isolation. False letters. Told Rose her baby died. Told Elias his wife ran off. Told the child her mother was buried. All those tears, all those years—Vivian fed every one.”
Clara’s grip tightened around the pistol.
“Where is my mother?”
Silas smiled with rotten teeth.
“Northfield House. Maine coast. Private patients. No names. Only numbers.”
Thomas wrote it down.
Then Silas added, “But hurry.”
Clara looked up.
“Why?”
May you like
His smile widened.
“Because Daniel sent word before he passed out. Vivian is going there too.”
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