Near Miss

Chapter Twenty-Four: Motive

Sylvie was about to step into Magdalen's hospital room when she found her way suddenly barred.

"You need permission to get in here," Durand said gruffly. "Do you have a badge?"

"You did call Maddox, right? Sylvie said slowly. "They said they were going to let me in..." After a moment, she realized that Durand wasn't going to relent. "Just call them, okay?"

Durand eyed Sylvie suspiciously, but did as he was told.

Over walkie-talkie, the entire conversation was perfectly audible. Durand seemed rather frustrated by having to contact Maddox in the first place, but his annoyance didn't even compare to Maddox's.

"Yes, that's Sylvie," Maddox protested. "I told you to let her in."

"Oh," Durand realized. "I thought this was the suspect girl."

"It is!" Maddox's voice crackled across the bad connection. "But she isn't a suspect, she's a minor."

"They're not mutually exclusive," Durand said.

Sylvie was rapidly tiring of the argument. All she wanted was to get inside and talk to Magdalen, and she didn't feel the need to sit through Durand's confusion any longer. She pulled her own walkie-talkie out of her pocket and held it to her lips. "Just let me in already, will you?"

She heard Maddox scoff twice, then speak in a distorted, echoing voice. "Let her in, Durand. She's allowed."

Durand seemed disappointed, but complied nonetheless, clicking open the door and motioning Sylvie inside.

Fabian had pulled a folding chair over to the side of the hospital bed, part of which had been smoothed out and was covered in neat piles of playing cards. Magdalen, although still wearing an oxygen mask, had propped herself up weakly against a set of pillows and was carefully examining the cards Fabian had just put out.

Fabian looked up. "Oh, hi, Sylvie! I thought you were going to be working on the case."

"I am working on the case," Sylvie answered. "I wanted to talk to Magdalen, and see if I could find anything more."

Magdalen looked up. "You won't." Her voice sounded almost hollow through the mask.

Taken aback, Sylvie took a cautious step toward the bed. "What do you mean, I won't?"

Sprawling out across the sheets, Magdalen sighed. "There's no point anyway. You won't catch them. Or if you do, it'll be too late. They're too good to be caught."

"Hey, they can't be that good," Sylvie reassured her. "I mean, you're still alive after three tries! They can't even wire a bomb!"

"I heard it was really badly done," Fabian said conspiratorially. "The Gazette had a whole article about it."

Both Sylvie and Magdalen turned to him in slow disbelief. "Fabian, I wrote that article," Sylvie said slowly.

"Yeah, I know!" Fabian answered. "But it was from the Gazette, so they probably fact-checked it."

"That's not the point," Magdalen continued. "They're going to keep trying. The police knew about it, and that didn't stop them from trying. Sylvie interviewed everyone, and that didn't stop them. And they're not going to stop until I'm dead."

Her gaze did not waver when she spoke of her own death. Her voice did not break. She was expecting it, and she was ready.

"Oh, come on, Magdalen," Sylvie dismissed. "I'll make sure they don't hurt you. And now that they've left their mark again, now that they've actually been into your house, we'll have an easier time finding them as well."