by Jill Jones
He couldn’t remember leaving his room earlier, or how he had arrived at the club where the dancer worked. It was a shithole of a place on the east side of Dallas, but he didn’t care. He had promised himself that he would make this stop a double event, and he had, although this whore was even worse than the bitch he’d had to ditch in the parking lot. He felt degraded that he’d sunk so low. He hadn’t even enjoyed it when he finally came. The only good part about this one was that he’d had some privacy. She’d taken him to a stinking motel room next door to the club where he’d met her, and he’d taken his time. Somebody would find her body in the morning. But would they know it was his work?
Once in the safety of his room, he changed his clothes and wadded the bloodied ones up and stuffed them into a bag. He’d have to find another fireplace.
Before going to bed, he gazed at the photo he’d taken of his latest work, stared at it long and hard. His work had been so vicious, so complete, the woman was scarcely recognizable as a human. Suddenly, the image shifted. The scene became a scene from another time, the carnage the remains of another woman, and it brought back memories he didn’t wish to see.
He crumpled onto the couch and wept.
Victoria watched her image on television late Sunday night. CNN had been running the story steadily since early Saturday afternoon, and she knew it had by now made headlines in newspapers all across the country, if not the world. She hated the publicity, but it had been necessary for her to be the presenter at the news conference, because the killer needed to see her face and know she was not only home from London, but was on his case as well. If that didn’t flush him out, she didn’t know what would.
It had come too late, however, to save the lives of two women, one in Dallas, the other in Fort Worth. The killer’s double event. Their bodies had been found, one late Saturday night, one early this very morning. The police weren’t sure it was the same killer, because neither of the women had come from high society.
Neither was there a twisted joke left at either of the crime scenes. But Victoria was convinced that the Ripper copycat had struck again. Perhaps he’d been interrupted the first time. The victim had been found in a rather public place, a parking lot at a night club, and she’d been seen in the club earlier. That meant he’d killed her on the spot, not somewhere else, and he’d likely had to make a run for it when someone came out to the parking lot.
The second murder reflected the pent-up rage he must have felt at not being able to complete his butchery the first time. The police described a motel room smeared with blood and gore, very reminiscent of the original Ripper’s murder of Mary Jane Kelly. These were crime photos she didn’t relish seeing.
The phone rang, and she went to answer it. “Hello.”
“Tori!” Trey almost shouted her name. “Thank God I caught you. I’ve been worried sick about you since I saw you on the CNN news story about that serial killer. What the hell’s going on?”
Victoria heard the anxiety in his voice. “We’re trying to catch the guy. That’s all.”
“He’s crazy, Tori. You shouldn’t be getting this involved. It’s too dangerous.”
“Crazies are my business, Trey. You know that. This is nothing new.”
“I don’t know, Tori. There’s something really weird about this guy.”
“There’s something weird about anyone who murders, Trey. Get over it. It’s my job.”
“Is this the same one who killed that prostitute in Whitechapel while we were there?”
“We think so.” Victoria heard him swear softly.
“The same one who sent you the liver?”
“It’s likely.”
“Damnit, Tori, why you?”
She’d been asking herself that same question for over two weeks. “I don’t know, Trey. It could be someone I helped put behind bars, maybe someone out on parole out for revenge.” Or a total stranger, like Billy Ray. It didn’t make sense, and she didn’t want to think about it. “Where have you been?” she asked, changing subjects. “I’ve tried several times to call you since I got back from London.”
“I’m still in training for my job. In fact, I’m in Vegas right now, at the tail end of our sales conference, but I should be home in a few days.”
“Well, give me a call when you get in. Hopefully by that time, we’ll have this slimebag in jail, and you can buy me a celebration drink.”
“You’re on. But in the meantime, lock your doors. I mean it, Tori. Don’t take this thing lightly.”
“Believe me, Trey, I’m not. Gotta run now. Ciao, baby.”
She hung up the phone and saw Jonathan watching her from across the room. His face was grim, and he looked distinctly unhappy. She wondered for a fleeting moment if he might possibly be a little jealous of Trey Delaney. She hoped that was the case, as unwarranted as it was. At least she’d know he still cared.
“That was Trey. Just checking in. Says he’s worried about me.” She picked up the remote control and clicked off the TV set.
“He has every reason to be,” Jonathan growled. Victoria caught his eye and saw the anguish in his expression. He was worried, too. He was probably also sick of being cooped up. Unlike her, he hadn’t left the apartment since Friday afternoon, and he might not be able to surface again for days, depending on how things went.
As the inside man, it was his job to remain out of sight, so that anyone watching would not know there was extra firepower inside. If the killer should somehow manage to break into her apartment, he would meet with a surprise attack from Jonathan. That was the plan, anyway.
But Victoria had gone about her life as if nothing unusual was taking place. The monitor she wore allowed the agents in the van to track her, and there were now two cars staked out nearby, one in the street, the other in the alley behind the carport. One or the other would follow her if she went out. She was double-covered. She was safe.
She’d proceeded to go about her daily life, going out to her favorite gourmet grocery to pick up food, dropping some clothes off at the dry cleaners, checking out the book at the library. Although she’d been a little edgy, she’d seen no sign of Billy Ray. The only tail had been the familiar white car driven by Grady O’Brien.
The only thing that was out of the ordinary for her was Jonathan’s attitude toward her. He had remained remote, aloof, and at arm’s length ever since they’d arrived. It tore at her every time they spoke.
“Guess we’d better turn in,” she said, wishing they could discuss what she considered to be their most unsatisfactory sleeping arrangements, but not willing to share her personal unhappiness with the boys outside via the monitor.
Jonathan had taken up residence in her spare bedroom, which also served as her office, so he’d ended up sleeping on a fold-out couch across from the computer table. He had claimed that he’d slept well, but she’d tossed restlessly for both nights they’d been under the same roof but not in the same bed. She longed for the warmth of his body next to hers, and her heart ached that he had remained so distant. It was almost as if their affair had never happened.
“Think I’ll stay up a while,” he said, rising and going to the telephone stand in the hall. He picked up a note pad and wrote, “I miss you.”
A small noise escaped her throat before she managed to stifle the words she wanted to say to him. He handed her the pad and pen.
“I miss you, too. Terribly,” she wrote, and underscored the last word.
They stood an arm’s length apart, and she wanted more than life to go into his embrace. But his arms remained at his side, and she saw him clench his hands into fists. She scribbled on the notepad, “Come to me in a little while. I’ll turn off the monitor.” Then she added, and again underlined, “Please!”
He gave her a slight nod, and her spirit soared. If there was one place they could communicate, it was in bed. Twenty minutes later, showered and naked, she lay between the covers, hoping, praying, he would do what he’d said. The monitor was on the nightstand, turned off. S
he hoped the boys in the van would think things were quiet because they were sleeping. She’d turn it on again later, after she and Jonathan worked through a few difficulties that threatened her life in a different way.
He came to her silently in the darkness, smelling faintly of soap and aftershave. She drew back the covers and welcomed him into her arms, so relieved to have him there she thought she might cry.
“Jonathan,” she whispered, and he answered by taking her lips in a kiss fierce with passion. They did not speak, but wasted no time rediscovering the magic that they had somehow lost over the past few days. Theirs was not a tender reunion, but rather one of fierce desperation. Neither had time for subtleties or explanations.
Victoria’s body raged with the need for Jonathan to become part of her once again, and when she threw one leg around his waist, she felt his own need pressing against her. Only when he entered her did she begin to release the terror she had not known she held. Terror that he did not love her after all. That he did not want her. That he would leave.
He did not leave, not even when their passion was spent and they lay quietly in each other’s arms. Victoria wouldn’t let him. She clung to him with arms and legs and will. She did not know why he had emotionally left her a few days ago, but she wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Jonathan lay spent and breathing hard, more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. Maybe he had little to offer Victoria Thomas, but he knew he couldn’t live without her. The past few days had been sheer hell.
Was he being selfish, wanting her so much that he would ask her to spend the rest of her life with a detective inspector from Manchester? Perhaps. And perhaps she would turn him down flat. He would understand if she did. But it would cut his heart out. Did he dare risk it?
Lying next to her, still intimately joined, he knew he had no choice. He could no longer run away, no longer avoid the truth. His life wasn’t worth living if she wasn’t in it.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She nestled even closer to him, if that was possible. “I love you, too, Jonathan. I don’t know what that standoffish nonsense was all about, but don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Marry me.”
There he’d said it. She did not answer right away, and his heart nearly stopped beating.
Then he heard a whispered, “Yes.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “You mean it?”
“With all my heart. Why wouldn’t I?”
Jonathan closed his arms around her tightly. “I…I didn’t know if…I don’t know how…”
She cut off his doubts with a kiss. “Shhh,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Tomorrow. Right now, I’d like to make up for lost time.”
The first thing Jonathan became aware of when he awoke the next morning was an unusual sense of peace, a happiness that pervaded every cell of his body. Victoria had said she would be his wife.
The second thing was that she was not in the bed next to him.
He sat up, blinking in the early morning light. How could he have slept so soundly that he didn’t sense her leaving? He slid out of bed and into his shorts and jeans. She was probably downstairs with the coffee pot perking.
But she was not downstairs. She’d left a note. “Gone for donuts. Back in a flash.”
She had left the coffee ready for him. He poured himself a cup and looked out at the overcast skies. It had rained during the night, and many of the glorious leaves that had crowned the trees lay in a soggy carpet on the ground.
He wandered into the living room and flicked on the television. The story about Traveling Jack was still major news. The copy editor had changed the words around, but the sensational tone was stronger than ever.
God, he’d be glad when this was all over. He was worried sick about Victoria’s safety, and although he trusted her judgment and respected her abilities as a law enforcement officer, she was still the only woman he had ever loved, ever would love. He could not stand it if something happened to her. He wanted her out of this mess and in his life forever. He did not know if he could share her with the FBI.
The phone rang. He didn’t answer it, for no one was supposed to know he was there. He listened to the caller’s voice as it came across the answering machine.
“What’s going on in there? Pick up. This is Grady.”
Jonathan lifted the receiver. “What’s up?”
“That’s what we want to know. Did she turn the monitor off again? We haven’t heard squat from you guys since midnight.”
The monitor. Yes, she’d turned it off. And he was damned glad she had. Last night. But this was today, and she should be wearing it. “Just a minute.” He set the receiver on the table and raced upstairs, a cold premonition washing over him. Had she forgotten to put it on this morning?
As he feared, the small black electronic device lay on the nightstand on her side of the bed. He picked it up and turned it on, then ran back down the stairs to the telephone.
“She turned it off last night before she went to bed,” he told them. “I just found it in her room.”
“Well, tell her to put the blasted thing on and leave it on. What does she think we’re going to do out here, get off on listening to her snore?”
“She’s not here.”
Dead silence for a long moment. Then, “Tell me you didn’t say that.”
“She’s not here. She must have left a little while ago. I just got up. There was a note on the counter that said she was going out for donuts.”
“Shit.”
“Didn’t you see her leave?” Jonathan’s skin prickled in alarm.
“We changed shifts just before six-thirty. It’s possible she left when we were shuffling cars. We didn’t think anything about it. Her car’s still under the car port.”
Jonathan looked out the back windows into the garden. He could see the reflection of the car’s shiny paint between the slats of the gate. He also noted something was missing from the small enclosure. “She took her bike.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
London
Nineteenth November 1888
The world has turned to ashes since our last fearful hunt, for I have neither seen nor heard from Eddy. I must find him! I fear for his very life, and my own.
After hiding here in rented lodgings for nearly a fortnight, today I dared to move out into the world again, seeking information about my beloved Prince. I called at Windsor but was told that Eddy was not in residence and was swiftly shown the door. I sought out Somerset, Eddy’s friend who supervises the stables, who confirmed my fears, telling me he’d heard the Prince had fallen ill and had been taken to a private asylum to recover. Gull again!
It was with forced restraint that I called upon that doctor, and although my reception was more polite than I had received at the palace, it was cool nonetheless. Gull confirmed Eddy’s illness, but would not describe its nature. Neither would he reveal the Prince’s whereabouts. It seemed to me that he gave me an odd appraisal, as if he were suspicious of me. Has Eddy talked? If he has, it will be my ruin. I must find that infernal asylum and rescue him. I must be assured of his love, for my life is pure hell without him. I would rather be dead.
The game board lay in front of him, but today he had no enthusiasm for it. After the bloodbath in Dallas, something had changed. He had no more spirit for the game. He was tired and drained, but he had to push on. There was one more whore he must bring down before he put away the knife. Her. The high and mighty one who had managed to steal away the only person in his life who had ever mattered.
Her. Victoria Thomas.
He had jumped three spaces ahead on the board as a reward for the grueling work in Texas. He was home now, and it was time to exact his final punishment.
Victoria guessed the battery was dead. When she’d tried to start the car to make a quick run for fresh donuts from a nearby shop, the engine had not even tried to turn over. A click from the ignition was the most response she’d roused from the veh
icle that had not been used in a couple of weeks. She thought about walking the four blocks, but then remembered her bike.
The cool, rain-washed air felt good as it streamed past her cheeks and through her hair, which she had not bothered to put up. Never had she felt so good, so happy. Jonathan’s proposal had surprised her, but she’d hesitated only long enough to make sure she’d heard him right. She didn’t know how they were going to rearrange their lives to accommodate their marriage, but she was not worried. They would work it out. All she knew was that she never wanted to be without him again.
The scents wafting from the donut shop made her mouth water. She parked the bike by the front window and hurried inside, where she selected two each of her favorites, wondering if Jonathan would like them as well. They had so much to learn about each other. “Please put them in a carry-out bag with a handle, would you Steve?” she asked the proprietor, who knew her well from her frequent visits to his shop. “I’m on the bike today.”
Her order in hand, Victoria jumped on the bicycle again and pedaled down the parking lot and into the street, her mind on Jonathan and what changes his proposal would bring to their lives. The car was upon her before she became aware of it. All she could remember later was hearing a thud and the scrape of metal against metal, feeling herself being catapulted onto the pavement where she landed painfully on one shoulder. The sound of a car door slamming. Approaching footsteps. And a blow to the head that turned the world black.
Pain glistened on the shards of what once must have been her brain as Victoria struggled for consciousness. Behind her eyes, bright lights looped and swirled like in a carnival ride, bringing with it a nausea that turned her skin clammy. A cool breeze from somewhere brushed against her cheeks. She shivered.
“Good. You’re awake.” A male voice seeped through the murkiness. “I didn’t want to have to carry you.”
Victoria managed to sit up and open her eyes. She was in the front seat of an old car that smelled rather like dirty socks. Her hands were bound in front of her, and a gag was tied so tightly around her mouth it cut her skin. Slowly, coming out of the pain, she turned her head toward the sound of the voice.
