Page 31 of Secrets in the Dark
“I think he was staring at Della, but then, lots of men in and around the pub noticed Della, but...most of them appreciated her appearance and went on with their nights,” Sean said. “But I thought that he was watching you, Della, when you were alone on the street. And then we saw Trey approach you and when I looked again, he was gone. He could have just been a loner out for a drink. Man, it’s frustrating when you don’t know much of anything!”
“You’ve seen the pictures we have of Jesse Miller. Could it have been him?” Mason asked.
Sean looked at Jeanne Lapierre.
Jeanne shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure we would have known even if we’d gotten closer. His hair was a different color, almost black. His brows appeared to be very heavy. If it was him, he changed his appearance.”
“Something that we know he can do,” Della murmured.
“Well, tonight will be a good learning curve,” Mason said. “From now on, when anyone sees anyone acting even remotely strangely, we divide and conquer. If that was Jesse Miller—and while he may not be our killer, he’s the only suspect we have at this time—we’ll never know now. We’ll spend the day tomorrow studying every detail possible about the past and the present—and do better when we head out tomorrow night.”
“We have an amazing artist, Maisie, back at our headquarters,” Della said. “I’m going to ask her to whip up some pictures of different ways Jesse Miller might look based on his bone structure.”
“We’ll get a solid estimate from our forensic people on the height of the bloke seen leaving the alley,” Edmund said. “For now, we should get to our lodgings.”
Della laughed softly. “Do we know where they are yet?”
“Let’s call François Bisset!” Mason said. He did so.
And he discovered that they were going to be quartered in the townhouse where they’d already been—the London police had held on to it through the week and they needed only to extend the rental so long as it might be required.
“That’s great. We only need to walk a block or two!” Mason said. Thanking Bisset, he ended the call and told the others. Sean was going to head to his own home, but he’d be with them in the morning, ready to answer anything about his area, history, the streets—anything he could possibly offer.
Edmund and Jeanne were also going to stay at the townhouse. It held six bedrooms so they’d be fine. Also, the kitchen was already stocked with tea, coffee and essentials.
Before they walked away, Mason felt he had to acknowledge the presence of Abigail Scott, the ghost who hoped that she might help them in some way.
He nodded to her, giving her a thank-you with his eyes.
She smiled, amused, nodding in return. “I will see you again,” she promised.
She’d heard him speak to the others, of course. She knew where they were staying.
It had been a long—really long—day. But Mason called Jackson again, thinking it was about time he should be leaving the office, but then Jackson and Angela never really considered themselves to be off.
Jackson answered the phone, telling him that he had just been about to call. He was sending the duo of Philip Law and Jordan Wallace. They would look after their witness, standing in for each other when necessary, seeing that no harm came to the woman—whether her danger was perceived or real.
They reached the townhouse near Grace Church and quickly determined rooms. Della wanted a shower and so did he—as of yet, there was no shower on their very nice private plane.
Maybe one day, Adam Harrison had teased.
Soap, water, heat, mist...
Life. They were alive. And no matter how tired either of them might have been, the sheen of water on flesh, the spray of heat, the touch of their bodies...
It was good to make love. Good to feel the ecstasy of love and life.
Soon enough, they dared to sleep.
Because the morning would come quickly.
Morning was coming. Even in London—even in Whitechapel—the sun could begin its ascent in the sky with an array of beautiful colors. At that hour, no rain touched the sky, and the mist that could cover the ground in the shadows of dusk was nonexistent.
Beautiful, beautiful morning.
Ripper smiled, watching the house. They were in there.
They were stumbling around in the dark, even as morning came.
