When Una’s eyes opened again, someone was shining a bright light directly in her face. She winced and turned her head, only to realize the light was all around her. Sunshine? How long had she been unconscious? Her head throbbed, and her throat burned with each pull of air. But she could breathe! In and out without resistance. She took a deep gulp of air and immediately regretted it as a fit of dry coughs racked her.

“Here, try a sip of water.”

Una turned toward the voice. A woman in a puffy white cap and seersucker dress held a cup of water to her lips. A nurse? Miss Cuddy?

Una took a small sip. Her esophagus burned as much as her windpipe and seemed to have forgotten how to swallow. She coughed again, spitting up half the water. But her next drink went down easier.

“Where am I?” she asked in a voice so hoarse she hardly recognized it as her own.

“Bellevue Hospital.”

Una looked around the room, its rows of beds and long center table taking shape in the brightness. “How did I get here?”

“The ambulance brought you in last night.”

The ambulance? Una bolted upright. Her head throbbed in protest, and the room wobbled a moment before steadying. Last night’s events came back to her with pulse-pounding clarity. She grabbed her neck. The tourniquet was gone, though it had left her skin puffy and raw. She kicked at the blankets entrapping her legs and tried to stand. A wave of nausea overtook her before her feet could find the floor.

Miss Cuddy put a hand on her shoulder. Una flinched. “It’s all right, Miss Kelly. Lie back down.”

“I have to . . . Conor . . . he’s dangerous.”

Miss Cuddy pushed her gently back into bed. “The only thing that’s dangerous is you trying to stand too quickly. Lie here, and I’ll fetch Superintendent Perkins. She wanted to see you as soon as you woke.”

“But—”

“Try another sip of water. I’ll be right back.”

Una let her head fall back against the pillow and closed her eyes to ward off the nausea. The last thing she wanted was another sip of water. The queasiness settled, but her heart refused to slow. Where was Conor? Barney? Who had found her and released the tourniquet?

Footsteps thumped toward her, and she opened her eyes. Miss Perkins approached with two coppers at her side. Una’s muscles tightened. She recognized the men at once. Officer Simms and the detective from the Sixth Precinct.

“Glad you’re awake, Miss Kelly,” the superintendent said. She smiled, but it did little to calm Una’s nerves. “These gentlemen have a few questions for you. Are you feeling up to answering them?”

Una hesitated. Could she feign to be too tired and then run as soon as they were gone? Considering she couldn’t even stand without becoming nauseous and dizzy, her chances of escape seemed slim. Best to tell them the truth, then, and hope that they believed her.

She nodded, and the men pulled up chairs alongside her bed.

“I’m Detective Collins, and this is Officer Simms. Do you remember us?”

Officer Simms’s nose had healed crooked, and he glared at her with the same beady eyes she recalled from the alley when he’d pushed her up against the wall and groped her.

“I remember.”

“Then you’ll remember the charges of murder booked against you. Add to that assault on an officer of the law”—the detective glanced askew at Officer Simms—“and you’re looking at spending the rest of your life on the Island.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” It came out more a croak than a shout, followed by another bout of coughing. “If you were more than a two-bit detective, you’d know that. Conor McCready killed Traveling Mike. And Deidre and—”

“Five people, all together, we think,” the detective said.

Officer Simms balled his fists together, his fat knuckles cracking. “We’ll know more once we get him talking.”

“What?”

“He’s a bit groggy still from all the morphine you gave him,” Detective Collins said. “It was morphine, wasn’t it?”

Una nodded, still confused. “Conor’s in jail?” “He will be as soon as the doctor clears him.” “But how do you know—”

“Your friend, the reporter, told us. He can’t speak. Something about a collapsed lung. But he wrote out a statement for us. Dr. Westervelt filled in the rest.”

Edwin? Now she was even more confused.

“If you cooperate and give us a statement and promise to show up in court to testify, we’ll see that the assault charge against you is dropped.”

“You mean that you believe me? I’m not under arrest?”

“Officer Simms here isn’t too pleased about it, but no. It was a brave thing you did, Miss Kelly. Rather chancy—”

“Stupid,” Officer Simms interrupted.

“But Mr. McCready might have gone uncaught without you.” She tried to speak, but another fit of coughing stopped her.

“I’ll come back this evening to get your statement,” the detective said, standing.

Officer Simms stood too. “Don’t even think about running. If you ain’t there singing at the trial, I’ll turn out every slum in the city to find you.”

You couldn’t find me before, Una wanted to say. Instead, she nodded.

Miss Perkins escorted them off the ward, then returned to Una’s bedside. “The officers told me about your . . . er . . . history. It seems you’re not

the Miss Una Kelly we thought you were.” Una shook her head.

“I suppose I should have guessed as much when you stole Dr. Pingry’s watch. Was anything you said in your admission interview true?”

“Parts of it.” Una looked down at her hands. Her nails were jagged and broken from last night’s struggle. “But not the parts that matter.”

“I see.”

“The only reason I applied to the school was because I needed a place to hide out from the police.”

Miss Perkins’s brow furrowed—the only crack in her otherwise inscrutable expression.

“I hated it at first,” Una continued, looking around the ward. “All the rules and studying. Kowtowing to whatever the doctors said. But there’s something . . . wondrous about seeing a sick patient get well and knowing that I had helped.”

“Nursing is not for everyone,” Miss Perkins said. “You see every facet of life—birth, death, illness, healing, trauma, madness, despair, joy. To take all that in demands both an iron constitution and a gentle soul. That’s the type of woman we’re looking for. That’s what matters.”

Una immediately thought of Dru. She reached and grabbed Miss Perkins’s arm. “Miss Lewis, she hasn’t . . . she’s not . . . her fever?”

“It broke last night,” Miss Perkins said, patting Una’s hand. “Word from the doctor this morning is that she’s much improved.”

Una closed her eyes and exhaled. When she opened them again, tears blurred her vision. Never mind if Miss Perkins thought her weak for crying. Una was too grateful to care. “Everything that happened with Mr. Knauff was my fault. Please let Miss Lewis stay on in the training program. She’s exactly the type of woman you’re looking for. She deserves a second chance and a far better friend than me.”

Miss Perkins handed Una her hankie. “Mr. Knauff’s tragic death was no one’s fault alone. But it is good to hear you own your share of the blame. The larger share rests with Dr. Allen. As for Miss Lewis, her illness certainly played a role.”

“You’ll let her stay, then?” Miss Perkins nodded.

Una smiled, the first real smile she’d worn in days, and blinked back a new wave of tears. “Thank you.”

“And what of you, Miss Kelly?”

She shrugged. It was too daunting to think about. She had no money. No place to live. No friends or family to call on. But at least she was no longer wanted by the police. And the people here at Bellevue were safe.

“I cannot let you back into the training program, you understand.”

Una nodded. She hadn’t expected to be allowed back into the school. It was enough that Dru could stay. But a pang of regret swelled inside her just the same.

“Not officially, anyway,” Miss Perkins continued. “But I think after I explain to the board how you put your own life in danger to lure out a killer in our midst, they might agree to keep you on. You could continue learning and honing your skills. You could live again at the nurses’ home. You just couldn’t be an official graduate at the end of your two years. No diploma. No pin. But I think you’ll find plenty of work, honest work, even without such tokens.”

“Really? You’d do that for me? Speak to the board?”

“I’m seldom wrong about people, Miss Kelly. In the end, it’s a question of heart. I’m no longer in doubt about yours. But you must maintain an exemplary record. No more lies or stealing. Am I understood?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you!”

“Good.” She patted Una’s hand again. “Now, get some rest.”

But Una was too elated to rest. She watched Miss Cuddy and the first- year nurse shuffle about the ward changing dressings, delivering medicines, mixing poultices and lotions and antiseptics. She watched them dust and cut bandages and clean bedpans. She watched them hurry to the side of a patient who was just about to fall. Apply leeches to a feverish patient. Soothe a grimacing, tumor-ridden patient with a warm fomentation. Their work was never ending, and Una wanted to be a part of it. Better to do than sit around idle, her mother had said to her. Better to give than to wait for someone to give to you. And for the first time, Una realized she was right.