Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(71)

I covered my face with my hands. I was not saying the most obvious thing. Not turning my father in would result in more women being slain. It was a horrible predicament to be in and I hated Father even more for subjecting me to it.

Thomas grew very quiet, staring at his own hands. An eternity stood waiting, watching along with me until he banished it from our presence. “What are you hoping to discover between the pages of other men’s theories?”

“Redemption. Clarity. A cure for the demon infecting my father’s soul.”

If there was some way for me to address the issues with his brain, perhaps he could be saved. I listened to the silence stretching between us, the ticking of the clock echoing my own heart’s beat.

I lowered my voice. “If it were your father, wouldn’t you try anything to save him? Especially after already losing one parent? Perhaps it isn’t too late for his salvation.”

Thomas swallowed hard, casting his attention to my book. “Will you be using a prop such as religion to deliver him from his sins, then? Sprinkle a bit of holy water and burn the devil out of him? I thought that was your eccentric aunt’s domain.”

I bent down to retrieve the medical journal, turning back to the last section I’d read. The leather chair squeaked as I shifted my weight.

“I am a scientist, Thomas. Father’s salvation will come in the form of tonics working on his physiology. There are great treatises about the effect of chemicals on the neurological pathways of the brain,” I said, pointing out one of them in the book. “Plus I’ll threaten to imprison him in our home. I’ll keep him in chains, locked in his own study, if he doesn’t agree to have his mind evaluated.”

Thomas shook his head—we both knew that was a lie. A weak knock came at the door before he could respond. We both stared at the footman standing half in the hall and half inside the library, a flush creeping up his collar. I hoped he hadn’t been lingering there long. If anyone learned of Father’s potential identity as Jack the Ripper or the fact we’d suspected him and hadn’t turned him in, we’d all be in a world of trouble ourselves.

“Dr. Wadsworth has requested your presence at Scotland Yard immediately, miss.” When Thomas and I shot each other glances, he amended, “Both of you.”

I didn’t care what I looked like to the men standing around Superintendent Blackburn’s desk, as I covered my mouth with the back of my lace-gloved hand.

The stench assaulting my senses was almost as bad as what the package contained. Possibly worse. I could deal with most anything gruesome and bloody; rotten meat, however, was something I feared I’d never get used to. No matter how many times I was forced into contact with the foul substance.

“Most certainly it’s half a human kidney,” Uncle confirmed, though no one had asked. “While it’s impossible to tell for sure, we must put some validity to the letter that came with it. Miss Eddowes was missing a kidney. This is a human kidney. From the state of decay, it was taken around the same time as hers was and it’s from the left side. Same as our victim. I’ll have to examine it further in my laboratory, but from sight alone there seem to be some… similarities.”

I swallowed my disgust down. Jack was coming undone, it seemed. Thomas passed the newest note from the murderer to me, averting his gaze as he did so. I wondered if he’d tell the police about my father. I wondered if I’d do the same if I were standing in his place. Guilt wrenched itself deep in my gut. Was I allowing sentimentality to stand in the way of justice? That made me as bad as the Ripper.

Except… what if police had already discovered the identity? I stole a glance at Superintendent Blackburn. I knew nothing of him, really, and remained wary in his presence. Perhaps he’d already seen this organ the night it was removed from its owner. He was rather stone-faced given what my uncle was saying. Which made me wonder if Father committed these acts himself or if he had Blackburn carry out his dark deeds. Was his squeamish reaction at the double event a mere act of deception?

I shook myself out of spiraling thoughts, relieved no one was paying me any mind. The letter was written in the same taunting red ink as the other two notes Jack had sent. I’d recognize that cursive in my nightmares, I’d gone over it so many times, trying to find similarities to my father’s own hand.


From Hell.

Mr. Lusk.

Sor

I send you half the Kidne I took from one woman and prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer

Signed

Catch me when you can

Mishter Lusk



George Lusk was my brother’s friend and also happened to be the loudest member of the vigilante group Nathaniel was part of, the Knights of Whitechapel. If Father was indeed Jack the Ripper, sending someone close to our family a piece of evidence was rather brazen. Then again, claiming to have eaten the other half of a human kidney sounded as though insanity had overtaken him.

Cannibalism was a new low for the Whitechapel murderer.

I laid the letter back on Blackburn’s cluttered desk. The cursive didn’t look like Father’s, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t taken pains to disguise it. Perhaps whatever evil dwelled inside him had its own handwriting.

“I wonder,” I said aloud, not meaning to.

Thomas motioned for me to speak, but I wasn’t quite ready to. Thoughts and theories were taking shape and forming in my mind. Perhaps if I offered something up, I could study Blackburn’s reaction for deceit. A few seconds later, I began again. “Seems a bit odd, don’t you think?”