Then, something changed. His thought, I wonder how history will judge this, slowly dissolved and was replaced by a thought foreign for him. As he looked down at the slaughter that used to be the body of President Williams, his thought became, what have I done?
It didn’t make sense as he had killed many people throughout the years but at that moment, he felt sorrow. Then, that sorrow turned to regret and soon became disgust. The horror that he had intended for others was now conveyed upon him.
He looked down at the body of Libby Williams and tears came to his eyes and he retched. He retched until his stomach was empty and yet he still heaved, stomach acids burning the back of his mouth.
He looked down at his hands and saw the blood and the remnant of gore from her intestines. He tried to wipe his hands on the grass but the blood and tissue would not wipe clean. He was frantic but in the midst of those frenzied thoughts, clarity came to him: he recognized the time that had passed since he had abducted Libby. He knew that the sweep of the White House would prove fruitless and the various agencies would span their search to Washington, D.C. and then to the outer cities. It would still be some time before they began searching his current location but if Jack had learned anything from Bagster Phillips it was not to press his luck.
It was time to leave.
He stood up and turned his attention to his next location and time. Only this time, nothing happened. He had done it so often and it had become such a part of who he was that he thought at first that perhaps he was just tired. He tried again and nothing. And then, again. It was not working.
For the first time in many years, he was fearful and not sure what to do. Why can I not go?
He tried twice more and it didn’t work. Then, his survival instinct kicked in and he knew he had to run. He wasn’t sure where he would hide or exactly where he would go but knew he had to leave. To stay longer was to test chance and he didn’t want to face questioning on the murder of the President. He didn’t think that would go too well since he was covered in her blood.
He found his way to a row of houses on a rural road. The house on the end was dark and after further examination, he determined the home was vacant and he gathered the courage to go inside. The back door was easy enough to navigate open and inside he found the home empty with the exception of a few boxes. To his fortune, the boxes contained men’s clothes. They weren’t a perfect fit but they were close enough.
He went to the kitchen and filled the sink full of water, washing the filth from him. When he was clean, he wiped away all traces of blood (he intentionally used some of the clothes to wipe up the blood and mixed those clothes with his own soiled garments) and exited the house with the bloody clothes in tow. He put those bloody clothes into a trash can behind the home and disappeared into the night.
Two hours later, the body of President Libby Williams was discovered. The area and body were examined and marked and the body was removed before the press arrived. But no matter how much they scrubbed, the agents couldn’t remove the blood from the scene.
Her husband found out right away and the rest of the world found out by telegram and radio soon after.
The bloody clothes were found by a nosy neighbor who thought it was suspicious that someone would take trash out in the middle of the night. The owner of the house where the bloody clothes were found was brought in and questioned and soon after vilified. It turned out the owner of the house was a felon (armed robbery) and had only recently been released from prison. He had taken a drive out to the bay where he had camped alone for the night, which gave him no solid alibi.
Jack read the newspaper the next morning and the feeling of regret came over him again. What’s wrong with me? he asked himself the first of many times to follow.
He never saw the man lurking in the shadows.
CHAPTER TWO
London, England – December 1897
Jack was a renowned physician. He cured diseases and performed miracle surgeries that were unheard of in London or anywhere else in the world. He received nobles, royalty and America’s wealthy. The result was outright fame.
Jack was not modest in the least and used this fame to access private engagements, build wealth and quite often, to bed women of noble class. It was rumored he had slept with one of the daughters of the Queen but he would not comment on the anecdote.
Aside from the parties, appearances and sex, Jack’s true passion in life was murder.
He had just returned from such an excursion when he heard a knock on the front door. It was unusual that someone would knock at this late hour but he was not expecting anyone. In his experience, late night calls were rarely well received, even when they involved a woman.
He peered out from a small opening in the drapery and saw a uniformed police officer standing on his front steps. What does this mean? Jack cursed.
He was uneasy but his exterior exuded the confidence of an aristocrat of that time as he opened the door. The officer’s insignia indicated
