Page 30 of Secrets in the Dark
“Oh?”
“We’ve been working a number of murders together,” Edmund said. “It’s an all-out effort.”
“As it should be. Well, I’m off, great to meet you. All of you.”
When he was gone, Della turned to Mason and Edmund. Abigail Scott was still there, of course, silent as she watched the men.
“Hey, we need to figure something out,” she said.
“All right,” Mason told her.
“I was starting to figure that Trey Harper just might be law enforcement. And I don’t want to give away any of our undercover officers or agents. So, in the future, if there is any sense at all that I’m getting in trouble, I’ll give you a sign.”
“Quite right!” Abigail said softly.
“What kind of a sign?” Edmund asked.
“I’ll flip my hair back. If you see me do that, get out here as fast as possible.”
“All right,” Edmund said.
Della looked at Mason. He nodded slowly. “All right. Of course, if we see you walking down the street with anyone toward a dark alley...”
She laughed softly. “Yes, then you follow.”
By the time she finished speaking, Sean and Jeanne had come out to the street.
“I just saw Trey Harper walking away,” Sean said.
“They were afraid he might be the new Ripper,” Della explained.
“Trey?” Sean said, amused. “Sorry—he and I have worked together before. He is one solid citizen.”
“Any single man—” Della began
“Wait,” Edmund said, frowning. “You know, there are those who believe that all the letters were hoaxes, and thatJackthe Ripper might have beenJillthe Ripper.”
Della shook her head. “I don’t believe so. In the past, the ways that the bodies were mutilated indicate that it was someone who truly hated women—”
“You don’t think that women hate women sometimes?” Jeanne Lapierre asked dryly.
“Yes, of course. Anyone can be hateful. But some of the mutilations took a fair amount of strength, and our killer has indicated that in his mind, all women are prostitutes. I could be wrong, but here are the things that I believe—one, our killer is a man, and a man trained by our vampire killer, Stephan Dante. I also believe that he might have been in love once and whoever he loved committed suicide, either blaming him or leaving him believing it was his fault. Perhaps he cheated on her and the fact that another woman—professional or just someone he knew or met even briefly—cheated with him gave him this passionate belief that he couldn’t have been at fault, that the woman, like all women, was a whore, as he so delicately puts it,” Della said.
“I don’t know about the past. I know that the police were inundated with letters and tips, hoaxes and what may have been true,” Mason said. “But I believe that the taunts the media has been receiving now are from the real killer.”
“What about the other bloke?” Sean asked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sidetrack there!”
“The other bloke?” Edmund asked.
“You didn’t see him?” Jeanne Lapierre asked. “No, wait, of course, you couldn’t have seen him. He was inside, concealed by the placards for this place.”
“If he was inside—” Mason began frowning.
“Well, he came out, of course,” Sean said. “But...hmm. I guess he took the other door while we were watching you, ready to hop up if there was trouble. Then, of course, as you were all talking, I saw that it was Trey Harper.”
“What about the other man?” Mason asked.
“He appeared to be about six feet tall or maybe a little taller. He was wearing a hoodie and hunched over in the corner. Looked to me to be about thirty-ish,” Jeanne said. “Sean, what do you think?”
