Page 13 of Secrets in the Dark
“What all?” Mason asked him.
“Well, it makes sense for you to get that leather jacket right to Forensics. But that will be FBI Forensics in the US and—”
“It won’t matter. Although we have nothing to arrest him for, it will give us something. Unless, of course, we can trace prints to a previous event and even then...if we can find him, we can get prints again. It’s hope—that’s what it is,” Edmund said.
“And on that note...thank you, Philip. Keep at him!” Della said.
“Thank you for pond-hopping back for this,” Philip said.
“Hey, what’s a pond or two?” Mason said lightly.
They headed out, stopping for their weapons, returning to the car. Mason drove. Edmund, in the back seat, heard his phone ring and excusing himself, he answered it.
Della turned back to see him. He winced and ended the call.
“We have a victim, aRippervictim. And this time...”
“This time?”
“Well, I guess his practice has made...perfect. Maria Monty, a tourist from Seattle, Washington. She was staying right across the Thames and had taken one of the Ripper tours several times. She was discovered just an hour ago...two deep slashes to the throat and her body, her body...ripped from the neck to the groin.”
Three
Another victim.
Well, they had known that this kind of killer wouldn’t stop. He was, in fact, just beginning, certain that his “reign” would be the best.
He knew he had to let go of believing that they’d had a killer—and let him get away. He had to remember that they were on the side of the law, and by law, there would have been nothing they could have done even if they’d stopped the man. There were no laws in England or America against having a drink at a bar and flirting with a pretty girl. He couldn’t concentrate on what couldn’t have been done; they had to move in a forward direction as quickly as possible.
“We’ve all feared there would be another victim—even before we got back, but I think that the trip to see Stephan Dante was important,” Mason said quietly as they navigated the London streets by car. “Philip knows his stuff. The man we saw is a good suspect, and we will figure out who he is. What do you have on the victim so far?” he asked Edmund.
“Well, go figure,” Edmund said. “She was found in Whitechapel. An area that’s gotten way better with time—and Ripper tours and tourists. Forty-three, an American schoolteacher on holiday. Maria Monty. She was found at six a.m. in an alley—insides out. We’ll see her at the morgue—I’ve assured them that we’re on the way back.”
Mason felt his face was tightening. This man was going to play the game. He was going to try to replicate Jack the Ripper, going by the five murders most profiling experts and “Ripperologists” claimed to have belonged to the one killer.
“We will drop this jacket with local Forensics and Della,” Mason said, “at the airport—”
“Calling the pilot,” she assured him.
Edmund was shaking his head. “Say we’d gotten that bloke in Brixton. What could we have done? Asked him why he was trying to pick up a pretty girl in a bar? We couldn’t have done a damned thing. And it might not be him.”
“Well, I can’t help wishing we’d gotten him. At the least, we’d know him—” Mason began.
“No. We wouldn’t,” Della said. “He’s a pupil of Dante, remember? He’ll have fake ID. But more than that—Dante would have taught him about wigs and makeup and prosthetics. And he’ll be able to change his appearance.”
“Yes, and we’reallpretty sure that Dante recognized that sketch you showed him. And I know the law and I know we couldn’t have held him on anything. But, hey. I can’t help it. I know that was the guy and that he slipped right through our fingers—easily,” Mason said.
“At least you thought to go after him,” Edmund said.
“So, we won’t recognize him if we see him again,” Mason said. “And now, he’s struck. In Whitechapel. He’ll be looking for four more victims—with the last being killed inside and mutilated beyond recognition, just like Mary Kelly.”
“Mason, the man in the bar may have just been someone who didn’t like police!”
He drove quickly, knowing the area well. They reached the local offices. Thankfully, Mason had worked with the NOLA office a few times and when he explained what they needed, his jacket was quickly taken and the paperwork was done. A member of the forensics team came out to speak with him, dead serious since he knew what it was about and telling Mason that he couldn’t promise him anything but he would do everything in his power to find something that might help them.
“Heading back to England now with Detective Inspector Taylor,” Mason told him. “But if you get anything, I’d appreciate you telling Field Director Jackson Crow—he will know how to reach us wherever we may be.”
“Including over the Atlantic!” Edmund added cheerfully.
