I lost my breath a short minute later and collapsed in the cold dirt beneath a familiar-looking tree. I hugged my knees into my chest and focused on breathing. As I watched the river ripple, my mind eventually calmed. The tightness in my chest loosened. I looked up at the moon, and for a moment, I envisioned my mother sitting beside me.
Not five minutes later, I heard the rumble of a car engine. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Evelyn’s car idling in the road, as close to my spot by the river as she could get without breaking any laws. She peered at me through the side window but did not get out until I waved her over.
“I don’t want you driving one-armed,” I reminded her as she paid no mind to the damp ground and sat next to me. She’d brought my coat with her. “You should have waited at the party.”
“I had to make sure you were all right.” She dusted her good hand on her pants. “That woman—Deepali Pearson—is she who I think she is?”
“Yes. She’s my grandmother.”
“I didn’t know you had other family here.” She examined my face. “I’m guessing you didn’t either?”
I wished for my glass of whiskey back. “I had no idea she lived so close. I never knew her.”
“Your own grandmother? Why not?”
“We didn’t speak to her,” I explained. “Or my grandfather. They disapproved of my mother’s choice to marry an American.”
“Pearson isn’t an Indian name, though,” Evelyn said. “Your grandmother must have married outside her culture as well.”
“She married an Englishman,” I confirmed. “Which was quite bold of her back then. It wasn’t so much a culture thing. They didn’t like that my father wouldn’t commit to living with Mum here in London. It drove a wedge between Mum and her parents. By the time I was born, they weren’t on speaking terms anymore. I never met them.”
Evelyn squeezed my knee. “So that’s why you ran out of there so quickly.”
“Mm.”
I gazed upward, through the branches of the tree. The leaves were beginning to drop off. The trunk of this tree split about halfway up, twisted around itself, and came together again. A jolt of recognition pushed me to my feet. I ran to the river and emptied the whiskey, cheese, and crackers from my stomach.
Evelyn swept my hair away from the mess with one hand. When I was finished, she pulled me safely from the river’s edge. “What happened?” she probed. “What’s wrong?”
“That tree,” I gasped hoarsely. “It’s where my mother was murdered ten years ago.”
We didn’t go back to the party. Evelyn packed me into the car and jerkily drove us back to Whitechapel. She helped me into the shower and tucked me into bed. She made tea, set out crackers, and turned on the TV to distract me from the evening’s events. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said she was there to take care of me instead of the other way around. As the night came to a close, we watched another episode of The Great British Bake Off, but I couldn’t give my full attention to the spectacular cakes and pastries on screen.
“Oh, come on!” Evelyn shouted, gesturing at the screen. “She got first in the Technical. Why would you send her home?”
“I know you’ll hate me for saying this,” I told Evelyn, speaking for the first time since we’d left Windsor, “but I think I need to find out who killed my mother.”
Evelyn hit the pause button. I braced myself for her scolding. Then she said, “I thought you might say something like that tonight.”
“And?”
She turned her body toward me to make sure I knew I had her focus. “Jack, I saw what happened to you earlier tonight. Clearly, you’re still haunted by what happened to your mum. If this is what it takes for you to find closure, I’ll support you a hundred percent of the way.”
“But you hate when I get too interested in serial killers.”
Evelyn shrugged. “This is different. The case has been cold for ten years. I doubt you’ll be in much danger if you track the killer down now. The reason I don’t want you going after the Ripper is because it’s happening now. If the killer sniffs you out, they’ll take you down for sure, and then what am I supposed to do?” She lifted her injured arm as high as it would go, which was about two inches away from her chest. “Get a hook hand?”
My laugh was garbled with phlegm from the back of my throat. “I don’t think a hook hand would do much good for your shoulder. Basic anatomy, Ev.”
“All I’m saying is I’d rather you spend your free time coming to terms with your past,” she replied seriously. “Rather than avoiding all your problems and getting into trouble with the London police.”
“It’s all quiet on the Ripper front,” I said. “I guess I can drop it, especially if it means you’re talking to me again.”
“Glad to hear it.”
We settled into the pillows, and Evelyn pushed play on the baking show. I found myself enjoying it more, now that I’d made the decision to track my mother’s killer. I had purpose again, and it wasn’t meaningless. If I got to the bottom of all this, maybe I could finally move on. Maybe I could go back to school and study anthropology without the constant reminder that my mother was no longer here to help me through it. Maybe the future wouldn’t seem so dark and lonely anymore.
But I should have known better than to think things would be that easy.
8
On the morning of September 8th, 1888, the body of Annie Chapman was discovered at six a.m. in the backyard of 29 Hanbury Street, her abdomen cut open and her uterus removed. On September 8th, 2019, the body of Rosie Brigham was found in the carpark where 29 Hanbury Street used
