The superintendent’s face darkened, standing in stark contrast to the grayness of his oversized sideburns, as he stared back at Colin, his eyes veiled by something I could not yet place. “Not diminished at all. . . .” he mumbled again as he set his teacup down. “Yes, Mr. Pendragon, it was a woman. A prostitute. An addict. It was a brutal killing. Evans here saw it. . . .” He nodded toward the inspector, who took the acknowledgment as consent to have his say since Superintendent Tottenshire evidently had reservations about continuing himself.
“Perhaps you’re not up to hearing this. . . .” he began to say.
“Nonsense,” the superintendent fired back at once. “Of course he wants to hear it.”
Colin gave the merest of nods, though he couldn’t have hidden the interest shuffling around behind his eyes if he had tried to.
“It was indeed a horrible thing,” Inspector Evans finally reiterated. “She was found in her room, her chest cleaved open from her neck to her nether regions. But the worst of it was that her organs had been removed and lined up on the floor alongside where she lay as though they were on display. The coroner says there’s an ovary missing and a goodly portion of her bowels, but everything else was there.”
Colin set his tea down and leaned in. “How have you managed to keep this quiet?”
“It’s been damn well nearly impossible,” the superintendent spoke up again. “We’ve kept the woman who discovered the body in custody.” He slid his eyes sideways. “For her own protection,” he added without conviction. “And we haven’t released a word of it to the press as of yet. But the victim’s neighbors are getting suspicious having the Yard crawling all over their building, asking questions, poking about. I’m afraid they’re not going to believe the story we’ve been peddling—that she’s gone missing—for very much longer.” He heaved another sigh and ran a nervous hand through one of his sideburns.
“There’s more,” Colin stated with extraordinary surety.
Superintendent Tottenshire nodded his head dismally. “It happened again sometime late last night. Another prostitute. Not a half dozen blocks away. Same sort of vicious thing. Carved her up . . . laid her out . . . It’s barbarous.”
Colin stood up and went over to the fireplace, and I wondered if they noticed how gingerly he moved. “You’re afraid it’s your Ripper again, aren’t you?” he said as he leaned against the mantel and stared at the flames. “What’s it been . . . seven years since he last struck?”
I thought surely my heart had ceased to beat as I watched the superintendent grit his teeth with an expression that bordered on agony. “Seven years exactly,” he confirmed. “The Yard would value your assistance, Mr. Pendragon. We simply cannot be swallowed up by that terror again. It will be the undoing of us all.”
I stared at Colin’s back, slightly bent with the pain and exhaustion I knew he continued to suffer, and willed him to refuse the case. I knew it was a terrible thing I wished for . . . selfish . . . but I could not help it. So I waited for him to turn around, holding my breath as if my bidding could be assured through the silence of my very being, but when he did finally turn I understood at once what his response would be.
“I will not answer to the Yard,” he said.
“We work together,” the superintendent parried back at once.
“I shall take the lead.”
“We work together.”
“I shall take the lead and allow Inspector Evans to work with us at all times. He can keep you and yours informed as he sees fit.”
The superintendent gritted his teeth again and ran a hand down a massive sideburn for the second time. “Very well, but you will report to me on a twice-weekly basis.”
“Mr. Pruitt will do that,” Colin answered blithely, and I was not in the least surprised that he would agree to nothing more. “And while I am working on this case for you, I shall expect you to use your vast resources to find Charlotte Hutton in Switzerland or wherever the hell else it is that she’s gone. That woman will not be allowed to escape. And I shall have your word on that or you may leave this flat at once.”
I could see that both Superintendent Tottenshire and Inspector Evans were taken aback, nevertheless it took no more than a moment before the superintendent nodded his assent. “You have my word, Mr. Pendragon.”
Colin pushed himself off the mantel and forced himself fully upright, his tenacity marred by the briefest of flinches. “Then let us begin at once,” he said, his voice strong and assured. “And woe be unto this Whitechapel fiend and the abhorrent Charlotte Hutton.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Having a novel published is an exciting and remarkable event. Having a series released is an utter thrill. None of it would be possible without you—the loyal and curious reader. It is to you that I owe the humblest thanks. You took a chance on me, whether with this book or one before it, and I hope I did not let you down. If you will stick with me I promise to do my utmost to keep you entertained whenever you crack open a Colin Pendragon tale.
There are many other people who are critical to the process that propels a story from my laptop to your hands, and I would be remiss if I did not mention some of them here. The folks at Kensington, especially John Scognamiglio; one of the first to take a chance on me. Paula Reedy and her team keep me honest—any mistakes or historical errors you may find are mine and mine alone. Kristine Mills, Vida Engstrand, and Morgan Elwell all do tremendous work on my behalf.
Huge thanks to Diane Salzberg, Karen Clemens, and Melissa Gelineau, who push me in the best possible ways.
Kathy Green, who was the first person to decide that Colin and Ethan were worth her time, and I am grateful to her for that.
I must give a special shout-out to Mysterious Galaxy, in San Diego, California; Anne Saller of Book Carnival, in Tustin, California, and Barbara Peters at Poisoned Pen, in Scottsdale, Arizona, all of whom have been wonderful to me. Please frequent their independent stores!
My family and friends are endlessly supportive, and I am honored.
Last of all I must thank Tresa Hoffman: Forever in my heart.
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