When the last prisoner had walked inside, one jailer said, “This is a surprise. Usually they all come back. This time we’re missing one.”
Reiko stared out the window of her palanquin as it carried her out of Edo Castle, but she barely noticed the sights or sounds. Fear that her husband would die inhabited her mind like a malignant presence, crowding out the world around her. The sob caught in her throat grew larger by the moment. The idea of losing Sano, of living without him, was beyond unbearable.
When he’d told her the terrible possibility that the assassin had given him the touch of death, Reiko had wanted to cling tight to him, to anchor him to her and to life. She’d been alarmed when he’d said he had to go out.
“Where?” she’d asked. “Why?”
“To continue my hunt for the assassin,” he’d said.
“Now?”
Calm detachment had replaced his terror. “As soon as I’ve washed, dressed, and eaten.” He headed toward the bath chamber.
“Must you?” Reiko said, hurrying after him. She didn’t want to let him out of her sight.
“I still have a job to do,” Sano said.
“But if you have only two days to live, we should spend them together,” Reiko protested.
In the bath chamber, Sano poured a bucket of water over his body and scrubbed himself. “Lord Matsudaira and the shogun wouldn’t accept that excuse. They’ve given me orders to catch the killer, and I must obey.”
Reiko experienced a sudden furious hatred for Bushido, which gave his superiors the right to treat him like a slave. Never before had the samurai code of honor seemed so cruel. “If there’s one time when you should disobey orders, this is it. Tell Lord Matsudaira and the shogun that you’ve already sacrificed your life for them, and they should go catch the killer themselves.” Beside herself with desperation, Reiko pleaded, “Stay home, with me and Masahiro.”
“I wish I could.” Sano climbed into the sunken bathtub, rinsed his body, climbed out, and dried himself on the towel Reiko handed him. “But I have more reason than before to bring the assassin to justice.” He chuckled. “Not every murder victim gets a chance to take revenge on his killer before he dies. This is a unique opportunity I have here.”
“How can you laugh at a time like this?” Reiko demanded.
“Either I laugh or I cry,” Sano said. “And remember, it’s possible that the assassin didn’t touch me. If that’s the case, we’ll both be laughing about this pretty soon. We’ll be embarrassed that we made such a fuss.”
But Reiko saw that Sano didn’t believe it; nor could she. “Please don’t go,” she said as she followed him to the bedchamber.
He threw on his clothes. “I have only a short time to catch the assassin and prevent more deaths. And I will, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Neither of them voiced the fear that it might be. Sano turned to Reiko and held her close. “Besides, if I don’t, I’ll just worry and be miserable. That’s not how you want me to spend the last two days of my life, is it?” He said gently, “I’ll come back soon. I promise.”
Reiko had let him go, because even though she was hurt that he wouldn’t stay with her, she didn’t want to deny Sano the chance to spend his precious time as he chose. She’d decided that she should go about her own business rather than fret about a fate that she was helpless to change.
Now her procession halted in the fog outside Magistrate Ueda’s estate. She stepped from her palanquin and hurried in the gate, through the courtyard, which was empty at this early hour. She entered the mansion, where she found her father seated at his desk in his office. A messenger knelt before him. Magistrate Ueda was reading a scroll that the messenger had apparently just brought. He frowned, wrote a quick note, and handed it to the messenger, who bowed and left. Magistrate Ueda looked up at Reiko.
“You’re here early, Daughter,” he said. His frown relaxed into a smile that faded as he saw Reiko’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“The assassin broke into our house last night, and he-while my husband was asleep-”
She couldn’t go on because the sob in her throat choked her. She saw comprehension and horror in Magistrate Ueda’s look. He started to rise, his arms extended as if to gather her into them. She lifted a hand to stop him, for any sympathy would be her undoing.
“We don’t know that anything happened,” she said, her voice tight with self-control. “Sano feels just fine.” Reiko forced a laugh. “We’re probably worrying for nothing.”
“I’m sure that’s the case.” Magistrate Ueda’s expression was grave despite his reassuring tone.
“But that’s not why I’m here,” Reiko said, hastily changing the subject. “I’ve come to tell you that I’m finished with my investigation.” At least Sano needn’t worry that it would cause him more trouble. “You needn’t put off Yugao’s conviction.”
Magistrate Ueda expelled his breath and shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to anyway.”
“Why? What happened?”
“That messenger who was just here brought me some disturbing news. Yesterday there was a fire near Edo Jail. The prisoners were released. They all came back this morning, except for Yugao.”
Shock hit Reiko so hard that she almost forgot her problems. “Yugao is gone?”
Magistrate Ueda nodded. “She took advantage of the fire and escaped.”
Horrified, Reiko dropped to her knees. Yugao was violent and deranged, she might very well kill again. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Yugao ran away. It’s a miracle that all prisoners don’t run when they’re let out for a fire,” she said.
“Perhaps not. Most of those sentenced to death are so broken in spirit that they accept their fate meekly. And they know that if they do run, they’ll be hunted down and tortured. Besides, all the prisoners know they can’t go back to where they came from; their neighborhood officials or police informants would turn them in. The petty criminals would rather face their punishment. Life on the run is harsh. Fugitives must resort to begging or prostitution or starve to death.”
“This is my fault,” said Reiko. “If I hadn’t been so determined to know why Yugao killed her family-if I hadn’t insisted on taking the time to find out-she would have been executed before that fire.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Magistrate Ueda said. “It was my decision for you to investigate the murders, and neither of us could have foreseen the fire. In hindsight, I should have accepted Yugao’s confession and immediately sentenced her to death. The responsibility for her escape is mine.”
Guilt sickened Reiko nonetheless. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ve sent orders to the police to search for her.”
“But how can they find one person among the million in this city?” Reiko said, filled with despair. “Edo has so many places where a fugitive could hide. And the police are so busy hunting outlaw rebels, they won’t look very hard for Yugao.”
“True, but what else is to be done?”
Reiko rose. “I’m going to look for Yugao myself.”
Magistrate Ueda’s expression was sympathetic yet dubious. “It will be even harder for you than for the police. They at least have many officers, civilian assistants, and neighborhood officials they can set after Yugao, while you’re just one woman.”
“Yes,” Reiko said, “but at least I’ll be active instead of waiting for her to be found. And people who’ve seen her may be more willing to talk to me than to the police.”