Passage

“No, come to think of it, it couldn’ta been the Hammann, because her back got broken. And not the Wasp because she went belly up, and the Lexington was clear over on her side, and this ship, whatever she was, was going down by the head.”

And there it was, her outside confirmation. It wouldn’t convince Richard. It wouldn’t convince anyone, not with Mr. Wojakowski’s record, but it was still evidence that she was on the right track. And where there was some evidence, there was more. She just had to find it.

She drove back to the hospital and spent the rest of the day and all of the next barricaded in her office, going through the transcripts. She switched her pager off, but kept the phone on and let the answering machine pick up, mostly so she could keep track of Mr. Mandrake.

He called at two-hour intervals, becoming more and more irritated that he couldn’t corner her. “If you can’t make time to return my calls,” he huffed and puffed, “you should at least go hear what Mrs. Davenport has to say about the visions she’s been having. They prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that messages can be sent from beyond the grave.”

Joanna erased the message, taped black paper along the bottom of the door so light couldn’t be seen from the outside, and went back to reading transcripts:

“I was traveling down through a long, sloping tunnel.”

“The feeling was warm, like being wrapped in a blanket.”

“A woman and a little girl were standing in the doorway, and I knew it must be my mother and my little sister who died when she was six, even though it didn’t really look like them. The little girl took my hand and led me into a beautiful garden.”

The garden again. Joanna did a global search. “I was in a sort of garden.” “Elijah was standing in the Garden of Eden.” “Beyond the doorway I could see a garden.”

Gladys Meers had been the most specific. “There were trees all around, and white trellises with vines growing up them. ‘Pray be seated,’ the angel said, and I sat down in a white wicker chair, the kind they have on patios.”

There couldn’t possibly have been a garden on the Titanic, Joanna thought, and wished she could believe that, but it had had a swimming pool, it had had a Turkish bath. Maybe it had had a garden, too.

She called Kit, but the line was busy. She printed out the list of garden references and then went to see Maisie. She was lying in bed, watching TV, but her shallow breathing and flaring nostrils gave her away. She just jumped into bed, Joanna thought, wondering what book she’d just hidden, and then saw that there were wires leading under her Barbie pajama top to the heart monitor.

“I didn’t find out the wireless messages yet,” Maisie said when she saw Joanna. She pointed her remote at the TV and turned it off. “I’m in A-fib again. I’m not supposed to read even. I found out two.” She took a couple of panting breaths before she went on. “They’re in the drawer,” turning her head to indicate the nightstand. “I’ll look up the others as soon as I feel better.”

Joanna opened the drawer and took out Maisie’s tablet. On the first page was written, “Sinking. Cannot hear for noise of steam.” And under it, “Come quick. Our engine-room flooded up to the boilers.”

Like you, Joanna thought, and tried not to think of Maisie on the listing decks of the Titanic, on the slanting steps of the Grand Staircase. But she saw fog, Joanna thought, and the night the Titanic sank, it was clear. And if there wasn’t a garden on the Titanic, then Mr. Briarley’s wrong.

“Maisie,” she said. “Did the Titanic have a garden?”

“A garden?” Maisie said, incredulous. “On a ship?”

“Or something that looked like a garden, with flowers and trees,” but Maisie was shaking her head. And if there were one, Joanna thought, she would have known about it.

“I never heard of a garden,” Maisie said. “I bet if there was, though, there’d be a picture of it in my Titanic Picture Book.” She pushed the covers off and sat up.

“No,” Joanna said. “No looking things up till you’re out of A-fib.”

“But—”

“Promise me, or I’ll fire you as my research assistant.”

“Okay,” Maisie said grudgingly. “I promise,” and, at Joanna’s skeptical look, “Cross my heart.”

Which isn’t worth a damn, Joanna thought. “You get some rest, kiddo,” she said, picking up the remote and switching it on, “and I’ll come see you soon.”

“You can’t go yet,” Maisie said. “I haven’t told you this neat thing I found out about the Mackay-Bennett.”

“Okay,” she said. “Two minutes, and then you have to rest. What’s the Mackay-Bennett?”

“It was this ship they sent out to pick up the bodies.”

“I thought the bodies all sank,” Joanna said.