Timekeeper (Timekeeper #1)(30)
Danny’s hands curled into fists, but he couldn’t do anything in full view of the constables. Instead, he imagined someone pummeling Lucas’s face until his teeth looked like the shards of glass above.
He was right, though. There was nothing to be done here that the others weren’t already doing.
Fuming, Danny turned to where his auto was parked. Lucas laughed at his back.
He bumped into someone on the street and mumbled an apology. Danny hesitated, then decided he might as well make one last effort. “Do you know anything about the tower?” The man shook his head. “You didn’t see anything unusual before it happened, or after?”
The man pushed his glasses up his nose. “Not that I recall.”
Danny made to turn away, but the man cleared his throat. “Wait, there was one thing. The night before, I was walking through the square on my way home. When I passed the tower, I thought I heard …”
“What?” Danny pressed.
“Well, it sounds silly, but I thought I heard someone crying.”
Danny’s head was spinning with too many thoughts, and suddenly the house around him felt too small. Grabbing his coat, he decided what he needed was a walk to stretch his legs and some conversation to stretch his mind.
Danny walked through Hyde Park and enjoyed the bracing autumn air. He watched ladies taking a morning stroll with their servants, gentlemen on horses, young girls acting as caretakers for rich children. But he mostly watched the lower-class mothers and fathers chasing after their own children, laughing and making memories. Danny had his own cache of such memories: his father lifting him up on his shoulders to see Punch and Judy shows, giving him crackers to feed the ducks, buying him sweets. Christopher never had much time to spare, focused on work as he was, but he’d still taken Danny out as often as possible.
He remembered trying to fly a kite, throwing it up as an offering to the wind, only to have it sadly plummet to the ground. Christopher had laughed and said the wind currents were probably better at the top of Big Ben.
“Can we fly a kite on top of the tower?” Danny had asked, excited by the notion. “Is that even possible?”
His father had grinned. “Anything is possible.”
They’d never had the chance to try.
Danny felt the pull of Big Ben even from here. If he focused hard enough, he could sense the fibers running through the city, enabling it to thrive. They were golden arteries attached to the heart of London, the clock that made sure the leaves fell and the snow would come.
Danny left the park and walked down a couple streets, toward a row house painted a shabby white trimmed in chipping blue. Like Christopher Hart, Matthias was addicted to his work, and could not be bothered with menial household chores like repainting. Matthias lived on the outskirts of Kensington, an admittedly wealthy district, but he had inherited the house from a rich aunt. His neighbors often expressed offense that he didn’t take better care of the place.
Danny walked through the creaking iron gate and knocked on the blue door. He heard a distant “Coming!” on the other side and waited with hands in his pockets. The heavy yellow drapes in the window swayed. Matthias sometimes complained about a draft in the old house.
The door was unbolted and Matthias stood in the doorframe, running a hand through his long brown hair.
“Danny Boy! What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t know if you were busy,” Danny said, half turning. “I can go if you are.”
“Nonsense. Wait right there.”
The door closed and he heard heavy footsteps. Danny burrowed his nose and mouth deeper into his scarf. Matthias never let him inside his house. When Danny had once asked why, he said he was embarrassed by the state of disrepair. Danny tried not to take it personally. Others would just as likely be turned away, if there was anyone besides him who even visited Matthias.
The man emerged a minute later, dressed for walking, his hair tied back. “Where to?”
“The park’s fine.”
They set off in comfortable silence. Matthias glanced over a few times, but Danny’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground.
They followed the stone path through a corridor of trees and sat on an empty bench across from a mother and her young daughter, who were eating a midday snack. The girl crumbled the bread of her sandwich for the hungry pigeons below.
“How’s that housemate of yours?” Danny asked. Matthias let a room for extra income.
“Why do you bring him up?”
“Thought I saw him at the window.”
“No, it’s that bloody draft again. I’ll get to fixing it soon.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh, then sighed. “You’ve been thinking about Rotherfield.”
“Who isn’t thinking about Rotherfield?”
“I reckon it must be difficult, what with Shere and all.” Matthias glanced at Danny’s scar. “The Lead will find out who’s behind the attack.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” Danny’s voice shook slightly, despite his best efforts to keep it even. “What if this just keeps happening until—”
Until another town becomes the next Maldon.
Matthias shifted to face him. “You mustn’t think like that. They’ll find a way to stop this.”
Danny watched the little girl feed the birds, throwing down crumbs like confetti. A boy on a chrome bicycle zoomed by, scaring the pigeons, and the girl shrieked as they all took off in a chaotic flutter of wings. Danny knew how that felt: to be content one moment and terrified the next. For something normal to erupt and leave you senseless.