Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(79)
If that made us wicked, wanton things, so be it. I gladly accepted my fate.
THIRTY-FOUR
WICKED SOULS
THE CENTRAL DEPOT
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
12 FEBRUARY 1889
Noah eyed the journals piled on our table, brow raised. Mine were stacked neatly before me, while Thomas’s were in haphazard heaps, ready to topple over if he so much as sneezed. Noah shook his head. “I was hoping you two might be able to talk out some of these facts with me.”
I shifted my attention to a satchel he’d tucked under an arm. Crinkled papers poked out from the top end, trying to escape the volume he’d stuffed into the small leather case. I glanced at Thomas. If we didn’t convince Uncle we were in the right city hunting the real Jack the Ripper, we’d be on a train for New York before we could blink.
“Noah, I’m sorry. We’d assist if we could; it’s just”—I motioned to the disarray around us—“we’re buried at the moment.”
Thomas set his text down. The challenge of solving another mystery was too alluring for him, it seemed. He held his hand out. “What have you got?”
“Not a lot of facts, but a lot of chaos.” Noah grinned as he rushed around the table, pulling notes out and scattering them like entrails. I went back to my own task, ignoring the twinge of worry that we were doomed to let the Ripper slip away once again. “Mr. Cigrande says the devil took his daughter, right? That demons sneak around, capturing women as prey. It sounds like the rantings of a madman, until you notice this.” Curious, I glanced up as he pushed a newspaper toward Thomas. “Here’s another woman. Missing. Same age and appearance as
Miss Cigrande.” He pulled another paper. “And this woman. And another. Every week, multiple women are reported missing to the police, but nothing’s being done.”
Thomas read the papers, frowning. “You said Mr. Cigrande claimed to witness the devil or a demon abduct a woman?”
“Yes.” Noah nodded, swallowing hard. “He said he saw a devil coax a young woman into a streetcar, took a package she was carrying, acted like a gentleman.”
“I imagine that’s true.” Thomas pushed his chair back, the limbs screeching over the hardwood. He walked to the fire, staring blankly into it. It was fitting, watching him get lost within an inferno while speaking of capturing the devil.
Fully intrigued with this new mystery, I leaned across the table. If there were a large number of missing women, we might have finally located a connection to our crimes. Maybe the Ripper was involved. Perhaps either his tactics had changed—as we’d feared earlier—or he was getting better at hiding the bodies.
“Would you mind if I took a look at that?”
“Not at all,” Noah said, sounding relieved. “Any help or ideas you can offer will be greatly useful. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out where to search next.”
I rummaged through the leather satchel, which contained page after page of reports of missing women. My blood chilled. There were nearly a dozen families begging Chicago to help find their daughters and wives.
“The police haven’t investigated any of these?” I asked, flipping through more documents.
“Not a one of them.” Noah shook his head. “Mr. Cigrande, mad as he may seem, marched himself into our agency, demanding we find his daughter. Then he started in with the demon-snatching nonsense, but with a little poking around, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched.”
A demon might not be truly stalking the Chicago streets for prey, but a different sort of monster was.
“Radu.” Thomas abruptly faced us, his jaw set.
Noah and I exchanged worried glances. Perhaps Thomas needed to get some rest—he’d been under severe stress and it was obviously affecting his senses.
“He was an interesting man,” I said. It was a kindness, really. Professor Radu had been our folklore instructor back at the forensics academy in Romania. He’d filled our heads with stories of vampires and werewolves—legends and myths he claimed weren’t strictly fantasy. Why in the name of the queen Thomas was thinking of him at a time such as this was beyond me. Though, knowing him, he
had his reasons. “I thought you were considering the missing women. How does Radu fit in?”
“Fantastical stories about horrific events take a person out of their terror—
they’re removed from it—therefore, we must pay close attention to the monsters he describes. They aren’t fantasy at all.” Thomas picked his cloak up from the back of his chair and addressed Noah. “I need to speak with Mr. Cigrande myself. Will you take us to him?”
Mr. Cigrande was hunched against the wind, his ungloved hands raw and cracked as he shook his bell at young women exiting the train depot. “Go back to your homes, heathens! The devil is coming for you! Run! Run while you’re still able!”
The constant clanging of the bell was bringing on a massive headache and the icy wind whipping down the avenue wasn’t helping to alleviate my growing discomfort. I held on to Thomas with one hand and my cane with the other while Noah walked along beside us.
“Let’s inquire about a demon, shall we?” I asked.
Thomas’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t entertain me or Noah with any of his usual wit. His mind was now fully engaged in solving this new mystery. I could only hope it would unlock another clue for us as well. There had to be a connection to these cases.