Every few pages, my own name jumped out at me. I never got used to it. Seeing things like Jacqueline called me today and I’m so proud of Jackie hit me like a jolt of lightning each time. My mother and I had always been close, but while I was at school in London, she was two hours away in Oxford. We were both too busy to schedule visits with each other. The only times we could meet were on holidays, where we came together at the house in Windsor to enjoy being a family.
Evelyn and I had come to an understanding. If I promised to work on my underlying trauma regarding my mother’s death, she would promise to put all her effort into rehabilitating her shoulder. As the week passed, the mood at the flat shifted from hopeless to reasonably cheery. The more I read of my mother’s journal, the less I dreamt of her death. As Evelyn threw herself into physical therapy, her shoulder and her attitude began to make minor improvements again.
One thing weighed heavily on my mind: the approaching date of the Double Event. I strongly suspected our modern-day Ripper had not given up his gig, instead lying low until the appropriate time. The rest of London grew restless too. As September 30th approached, the Rippermania started up again. The police warned everyone to stay indoors. According to the news, they would watch over Henriques Street and Mitre Square all night. Like Evelyn, they believed the killer would show up in both places to conquer his next victim.
“It depends on what story the Ripper’s following,” I said to Evelyn the day before the Double Event was supposed to happen. “Some people think the third murder wasn’t the Ripper’s work. The police are expecting the killer at Henriques Street first, but what if he heads straight to Mitre Square? They still won’t catch him.”
Evelyn, in the middle of a home exercise Alba had prescribed her using a resistance band, let out a puff of air. “Why don’t you tip off the police?”
“I tried,” I said. “They won’t take my calls anymore.”
That got a laugh out of her. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “They’ll have police on every corner of both locations. There’s no way the Ripper is stupid enough to kill someone right under their noses.”
“I’m afraid of the opposite: that he’s smart enough to pull it off.”
“Are you going to go?”
I glanced at her, surprised. “You still think it’s a good idea?”
“No, it’s a terrible idea.” The veins in her neck popped as she forced the resistance band away from her again. That band was the thinnest in the set, but she still couldn’t finish the exercise. With a huff, she let the band relax and wiped the sweat from her face with a towel. A week ago, she would have cried over the same result. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want you anywhere near those places. But if you’re determined to go, I’ll help you stake out safely.”
“You’ll come with me?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed before answering. “Yes. If you agree to follow my lead. Between the two of us, I’m the only one with experience in matters like these.”
“I knew you were a spy.”
The logistics of staking out two locations where the police had already taken up stations were a bit complicated. Luckily, Evelyn had a good idea of how the London police liked to barricade an area.
“There’s always one way in and out,” she explained. “So the officers can change shifts. Naturally, it’s heavily guarded, but I think I found a way we can pull this off.” She rotated her laptop to show me a series of maps. “We’re working off your hunch that our modern-day Ripper believes the same facts you do: the original Ripper did not complete murder number three, so there’s no point in infiltrating the barricade at Henriques Street. However, I think we should start there just in case.” She pointed at a corner on the map. “We’ll park here, just outside the barricade. The police won’t bother us, but we’ll have eyes and ears on Henriques. Any hint of trouble, and you’ll be able to see exactly what’s going on. If you’re right about the Ripper, nothing will happen, and we’ll be in the perfect position to zip on over to Mitre Square in time for the second attack. We’ll park here, right outside this alleyway. It’s the back way out.”
With Evelyn on my side, anything seemed possible. As we waited for night to fall, my blood simmered in my body. The thrill of potentially catching the Ripper hummed through me like a constant adrenaline drip. I kept an eye on the clock, unable to sit still. I packed a bag of snacks and drinks to keep us going throughout the night, filled the car with petrol, and made sure Evelyn had everything she needed to keep her shoulder comfortable.
Around ten o’clock, we loaded everything in the car, including binoculars, a long lens camera, and the files of William Lewis and Rosie Brigham. I intended to study the details of the previous attacks while we waited for the Ripper tonight. We also brought along the baton Evelyn had taught me to use in case of an emergency. That last item had stipulations attached, though.
“Do not get out of the car,” Evelyn warned me. “I don’t care where we are or what’s happening around us. If you see the killer, you cannot get out of the car. We’re taking the baton in case we get dragged out. Different scenario.”
“I won’t get out of the car,” I said briskly. “Get in. We need to make it to our position soon.”
As I turned the key in the ignition, Evelyn wrestled to arrange her seatbelt over the shoulder brace. I reached across her and did it for her. Her skin shimmered under the streetlight, pale and moist. Her lips had lost their color too.
“Are you all right?”
