over. I was certain he drank more often than I knew, but he never showed a trace of it. Iron Mike, his fellow police officers called him. His only daughter called him that too. She was a weaker alloy than he, but she loved him regardless of her own brittle imperfections. I pictured his expression across the room, on the other side of the fireplace, his black eyebrows lowered in a scowl of disapproval and concern. Maddie, he'd say in that coppery brogue he'd learned at Grandmother Sheehan's knee. Maddie, you shouldn't do this to yourself.
True. It would have been different if he were here now, instead of buried up at Lake View. He'd have set me straight, or held me close and made it all better. Somehow. He'd have made me believe it even though I knew it was just the kind of thing a father tells his daughter when the liquor makes her clumsy and honest. Honest enough not to ignore the truths we all know but don't like to stare in the face on dark, rainy nights when the clouds hang low over the city and try to wash away what won't ever come clean. The truth was, it would never get better. Gerd was gone. Police captains who die heroic deaths are still dead. Brilliant apprentices without a master to teach them don’t get any better on their own. Women who try to be private investigators have a hard time making rent and staying fed. Some mirrors would always remain in pieces.
The knock on the door interrupted both my brooding and my drink. I didn't want any company. Not tonight. I let the silence drag out, hoping whoever it was would go back into the rainy darkness of a cold Seattle night. Instead, there was another rap. "Miss Sheehan? Madison, are you at home? It's Thomas Cooke. I need your help. Please. "
I set down the shot glass and got to my feet, grimacing as my right hand bumped the floor. Tommy. It would have to be him, of all people, on a night like this. I wanted more than anything to stumble towards my bed and let this day be a blurry memory of pain and loss, but I couldn't say no. Not to another Circle orphan. I wondered if Tommy drank on this night, the way I did. Probably not. I'd heard he was a doctor nowadays, with a steady practice downtown and a fancy house his father had left him up on Capitol Hill. I walked over to the door with exaggerated care and made myself look steadier than I felt. Then I opened the door with my left hand and looked out at him. "Tommy. What is it?"
"May I come in?" His awkward smile tore at my heart. I knew he liked me , had done for years. Ever since I had been Gerd’s apprentice, really. Just as he knew I'd never like him, not the way he wanted. It was uncomfortable for both of us, but there it was. "It's important. I don't want to talk about it on your doorstep. Please?"
I relented. He walked through the door, still sodden from the rain. I saw him do a double-take when he saw what was left of the mirror that had once hung over the mantle. He said nothing about it, pretended it wasn't there as he took off his hat and mashed it nervously between his hands. Smart man. "What's this about, Tommy?" Was I slurring my words? I couldn’t be sure, so I let him do the talking while I reminded my tongue who was in charge around here.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. He looked nervous, now that he was in the light. More than nervous. Sleepless. Terrified, even. "I think someone might be trying to kill me." His voice trembled. So did his hands. His eyes were hollow, sunken. He looked the way I felt: like hell. “That probably sounds difficult to believe, but I’m telling you the honest truth. I’m afraid, and I don’t know who else I can turn to with something like this. The police wouldn’t believe me, and of all my father’s colleagues you’re the only one who-” I saw him stumble, not wanting to say it. Even if he’d forgotten what night it was, he knew I was all that was left of the Circle. “You’re the only one who might understand. I’m in fear for my life,
True. It would have been different if he were here now, instead of buried up at Lake View. He'd have set me straight, or held me close and made it all better. Somehow. He'd have made me believe it even though I knew it was just the kind of thing a father tells his daughter when the liquor makes her clumsy and honest. Honest enough not to ignore the truths we all know but don't like to stare in the face on dark, rainy nights when the clouds hang low over the city and try to wash away what won't ever come clean. The truth was, it would never get better. Gerd was gone. Police captains who die heroic deaths are still dead. Brilliant apprentices without a master to teach them don’t get any better on their own. Women who try to be private investigators have a hard time making rent and staying fed. Some mirrors would always remain in pieces.
The knock on the door interrupted both my brooding and my drink. I didn't want any company. Not tonight. I let the silence drag out, hoping whoever it was would go back into the rainy darkness of a cold Seattle night. Instead, there was another rap. "Miss Sheehan? Madison, are you at home? It's Thomas Cooke. I need your help. Please. "
I set down the shot glass and got to my feet, grimacing as my right hand bumped the floor. Tommy. It would have to be him, of all people, on a night like this. I wanted more than anything to stumble towards my bed and let this day be a blurry memory of pain and loss, but I couldn't say no. Not to another Circle orphan. I wondered if Tommy drank on this night, the way I did. Probably not. I'd heard he was a doctor nowadays, with a steady practice downtown and a fancy house his father had left him up on Capitol Hill. I walked over to the door with exaggerated care and made myself look steadier than I felt. Then I opened the door with my left hand and looked out at him. "Tommy. What is it?"
"May I come in?" His awkward smile tore at my heart. I knew he liked me , had done for years. Ever since I had been Gerd’s apprentice, really. Just as he knew I'd never like him, not the way he wanted. It was uncomfortable for both of us, but there it was. "It's important. I don't want to talk about it on your doorstep. Please?"
I relented. He walked through the door, still sodden from the rain. I saw him do a double-take when he saw what was left of the mirror that had once hung over the mantle. He said nothing about it, pretended it wasn't there as he took off his hat and mashed it nervously between his hands. Smart man. "What's this about, Tommy?" Was I slurring my words? I couldn’t be sure, so I let him do the talking while I reminded my tongue who was in charge around here.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. He looked nervous, now that he was in the light. More than nervous. Sleepless. Terrified, even. "I think someone might be trying to kill me." His voice trembled. So did his hands. His eyes were hollow, sunken. He looked the way I felt: like hell. “That probably sounds difficult to believe, but I’m telling you the honest truth. I’m afraid, and I don’t know who else I can turn to with something like this. The police wouldn’t believe me, and of all my father’s colleagues you’re the only one who-” I saw him stumble, not wanting to say it. Even if he’d forgotten what night it was, he knew I was all that was left of the Circle. “You’re the only one who might understand. I’m in fear for my life,
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