Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(58)
A woman beside me shouted, “It ain’t right! We need to catch ’im and kill ’im! Let the madman hang!”
I turned my attention back to the living barricade. Through their limbs, I barely made out a body covered in an off-white shroud, blood pooling around like a red lake near her head. Another body had been discovered a little ways down.
It was the worst thing I could think, but there was no way Scotland Yard could execute Uncle now, not after another two bodies were so prominently displayed for all of London to look upon.
There was a darkness growing inside me that needed to be rooted out. It was the second time that week I was mildly grateful for the Ripper. My own emotions sickened me. How dare I rejoice in someone else’s misery. That made me no better than the murderer himself. Still, I was hopeful this crime would at least save one life. Even if that hope made me a miserable thing.
I felt a strong tap on my shoulder and spun around, my skirts twisting about my body.
Superintendent Blackburn shook his head, his fair hair catching the light of the sun. “I’d inquire about the weather, but I’m sure you’d like to speak of other things, Miss Wadsworth.” He squinted toward the body, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Seems our boy gave us two more victims.”
I followed his gaze, nodding. There wasn’t much to add to that, so I stayed silent. Watching and listening to people closest us while they speculated on the vicious Leather Apron, lady killer. Though I’d hardly refer to Jack as “our boy.”
There was an essence of unease slowly moving through my body that had nothing to do with the deceased women or frightened crowd. I felt Blackburn carefully studying me, but kept my attention elsewhere.
Something about his manner made me feel as if I were being investigated for a crime I’d no recollection of committing.
“Since I know it’ll do no good asking you to speak with me later,” Blackburn continued, “I might as well invite you to inspect the scene now. Your uncle obviously cannot be here, and there’s no one else I’d trust with giving a proper assessment. Unless, of course, you don’t feel you can handle it.”
Not quite wrapping my brain around the invitation, I blinked at him. I was merely an apprentice studying under Uncle, but Blackburn seemed eager for my opinion on the matter. And I was willing to set aside doubts regarding him for a chance to examine the bodies. I swallowed, casting my attention around. No one was paying us any mind. “Of course I’ll inspect them.”
Blackburn focused on me, a hint of uncertainty twitching across his lips. “You may want to prepare yourself regardless. Seeing a body on a mortuary table and seeing a body lying in a bloody pool in an alley are a bit different.”
If he was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t working. Little did he know I’d already come across a body in an alley and lived to tell the gruesome tale.
I was more than eager to get a closer look at the scenes, to understand the mind of a man who was brutalizing these women. I imagined it would be one of the most horrific things I’d ever see, but I wouldn’t let fear hold me prisoner.
Darkness within me rejoiced for the opportunity of seeing the bodies up close, in the state the murderer had intended them to be discovered. Perhaps I’d find a useful clue.
When I lifted my chin, allowing defiance to wash over my features, Blackburn chuckled. “You’re a lot like me.” He smiled, pleased with my reaction. “Stay close, and don’t speak. I may be keen on having your opinion, but not all men will have the same feelings on the matter. Best you let me do the talking.”
“Very well.” While it wasn’t something I relished, it was the hard truth. I was a young girl growing up in a world run by old men. I’d pick and choose my battles wisely.
Without uttering another word, we pushed our way to the front of the crowd and stood before the line of constables. Women slowly moved away from Blackburn, their eyes taking in his form appreciatively as he passed.
A burly man with a ginger beard and matching bushy eyebrows halted our movement. “No one’s to pass by. Orders of the commissioner.”
Blackburn stood straighter, nodding as if he’d heard this before, then simply said, “I am well aware of that order, as I was the one who instructed the commissioner to issue it. Thank you for upholding the command so dutifully”—he leaned in, reading the man’s name tag—“Constable O’Bryan. I’ve brought a private assistant, proficient in forensic sciences. I’d like her thoughts before we move the bodies.”
The constable eyed me with distaste. I buried my hands in my skirts, gripping the material until I was positive I’d rip it off. Oh, how I despised remaining silent under such awful judgment. I’d like to remind each man who held such poor opinions of a woman that their beloved mothers were, in fact, women.
I didn’t see any men running about, birthing the world’s population then going on to make supper and tend to the house. Most of them buckled to their knees when the slightest sniffle attacked them.
There was more strength held underneath my muslin layers and well-perfumed skin than in half the men in London combined. I forced my mind to stay focused on our task, lest my emotions show plainly on my face.
After an uncomfortably long pause, Blackburn cleared his throat. The constable shifted his attention back to his superior, color creeping up his collar. “Right. Sorry, sir. It’s… we weren’t told you’d be coming, and—”