“I’ll decide who I can and can’t trust, Terri, and it’s not fucking him,” the sinister voice reprimanded her fiercely.
“I – I’m sorry,” she told him, recoiling at the ferocity of his anger.
“I have someone here I want you to listen to. Don’t ask her any questions. Don’t say a word. If you speak, I will kill her and it will be your fault. Do you understand these instructions, Terri?” He said the words so casually that she thought she’d misheard for a moment.
“I asked you a question.” The anger was back in his voice.
“You want me to listen to someone speak, is that right?” she clarified.
“Just listen. Do not talk. Understand?”
“Okay. Whatever you say, but who am I going to be talking to?” Miller asked, not really understanding what the killer wanted from her. A new voice came on the phone. It was a woman’s voice, utterly terrified, and it was possibly the saddest thing Terri Miller had ever heard.
“Help me,please. Tell him he doesn’t have to do this. I don’t want to die…” The sheer desperation in Sarah Pritchard’s words broke Terri Miller’s heart. The phone was taken away, and the woman’s pleas for help faded until all Miller could hear was the killer’s breathing.
Terri clasped her hand over the mouthpiece to prevent the killer hearing. “Jesus Christ, he’s taken another one. Oh God! Giles, I think he’s going to kill her over the phone. Quick, call the police,” she urged her editor.
She could hardly breathe; it felt as though the killer’s hand had reached into her chest cavity and was now squeezing her heart.
“Are you sure?” Deakin asked, paling.
“Just do it, will you,” Terri pleaded. In the background, on the other end of the line, she could hear the Ripper speaking to his captive.
“Please, don’t hurt her…” Terri begged. She cast a sideways glance at Giles. He was on the other phone, gesturing animatedly.
The sound of the slap was distinctive, even over the phone. It was accompanied by a scream, then silence. Terri flinched. She nearly called out to the woman, to make sure she was okay, but she stopped herself just in time. The killer’s words echoed in her mind: Don’t say a word. If you speak, I will kill her and it will be your fault.
She rammed the receiver tightly against her ear, hardly daring to breathe in case the noise it made blocked out something important at the other end. And then, after what seemed an eternity, the killer spoke again.
“My guest and I are going to bid you farewell shortly, but don’t worry, we’ll call you back again before too long.”
“Wait! Is she okay? Have you hurt her? Can I talk to her again?” Terri had to know the answer to these questions.
“Don’t fret about the Queen of Whores. She’s still alive – for now. I want you to pass a message onto Jack Tyler from me. Tell him that he should’ve taken me more seriously.”
◆◆◆
In the back of the van, Sarah Pritchard cowered in the far corner, between the rear wheel arch and the back doors. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face where he’d hit her. She watched as her husband casually turned his back on her and reached for something in the darkness. Dazed from the blow, she was only half-aware of the words he spoke into the mobile phone.
“…tell him that he should have taken me more seriously.”
When he turned to face her again, there was an insane glint in his eyes. She could have sworn that they were glowing red in the dark, like those of a demon. He advanced on her slowly, his movements purposeful and sinister.
“No, keep back, please. Don’t hurt me again…” she pleaded, trying in vain to wriggle backwards. The Disciple sat astride her stomach, pinning her to the floor with his knees.
“Listen to this, Terri. It’s the sound of my redemption,” he whispered into the phone. Then, holding the mobile towards her face with his right hand, the killer raised his left hand high above him. Following the movement with her eyes, Sarah instantly recognised the fearful shape of the claw hammer. Wide-eyed, she opened her mouth to scream, but it was too late. With a sickening thud, the hammer crashed into her shoulder, shattering the clavicle.
He hit her a second time for good measure. Sarah Pritchard’s screams stopped after the second blow, as she slipped into unconsciousness. “There,” The Disciple said in satisfaction. “Did you hear that, Terri? Are you enjoying the show?”
“NO! Stop it, please. This is insane,” Miller’s voice screamed at him. He wondered why, if it was so bad, she hadn’t hung up on him. He knew she wouldn’t, of course. It was too good a story to pass up: holding a telephone conversation with Jack the New Ripper while he toyed with his latest victim. “I’m going to cut her throat, Terri,” he teased her. He wasn’t, of course. That would come much later, when they were back at the lair.
“NOOOOOOO!” The anguish in Miller’s voice was simply delicious.
He very much doubted that this is what Miller had in mind when she’d asked him to open up to her so that she could do his story justice, but her request had proved quite inspirational. To be able to share this moment with someone who would be alive to talk about it afterwards was just incredible. The third bitch responsible for ruining his life stirred. He had to admire her durability. The Queen of Whores was virtually indestructible.
◆◆◆
“Oh my Lord, he’s going to kill her, Giles. I can hear him moving about, getting ready.” Miller was close to tears. She wanted a story of course, what reporter didn’t, but this went beyond the pale. If she thought it would have stopped him, she would have hung up, but she knew it wouldn’t. The only thing she could think
