The hair on the back of her neck shot straight out, trying to balance her on the suddenly thin beam on which the tableau stood.
The man moved first, bolting back inside, the door crashing into the wall behind him. Gabriel went from a dead start to a sprint as he raced after the man. Stunned, the feeling that had coursed through her during the encounter with the barristers revived and poured through her again. Marietta hiked her skirts and ran as fast as she could in their wake. She rounded a corner in time to see the fleeing man toss himself through an open window, and she gasped as Gabriel dove through too. She looked to the right, then left. A closed door innocuously stood to one side.
She used precious seconds gripping the knob and forcing it open. She could see both men picking themselves off the ground, the stranger in the lead, Gabriel going from a somersault into a full-on sprint once more. Rubbish bins overturned and laundry ripped from its pins. A Yorkshire terrier gave chase and its little legs pumped after the two men, who were in no danger of being caught by the small bundle of fur.
Marietta rushed after them, but she was about as useful as the Yorkie, trailing and yapping at their heels. Gabriel threw a hand out, and she followed the movement. The street formed a U. They would come right back to her. The men disappeared behind the buildings blocking the U of the street. She frantically searched the area and picked up the heaviest thing she could find—a misshapen rock near an upright bin.
There was no place to hide. She just had to hope she looked docile enough for the man to pass. They curved back around and she could see Gabriel gaining on him. But the man was surprisingly agile. Then again, most footmen were. He headed straight for her, veering off the street. Her eyes went wide and she quickly backed up, cocking the rock back in her hand. He barreled straight for her. She let the rock loose. He dodged it and caught her in the midsection. She hit the ground and…nothing happened. No sounds, no smells, the image was static in front of her. Then it wavered. Gabriel’s face appeared in front of hers. His lips moved.
Whoosh.She gasped, deep gaping breaths. She could feel his fingers tighten around her arm and then he was off again. She pressed one hand against her stomach. She thought rather inanely that all the butterflies may finally have been crushed for good.
Gabriel returned a minute later, swearing. He crouched in front of her and moved her hand. A quick press around her ribs had her gasping. He prodded and pushed against her chest, her stomach, and under her arms. She was too dazed to say a word, only answering the questions he asked.
“You will be fine. Bruising, definitely, the bastard. But nothing looks broken. Thank God.”
He picked her up and set her on her feet. The coldness was gone from his eyes, replaced by something wild. “Come. Let’s investigate Worley’s room. Maybe he’ll have a lapse of judgment and return. We won’t get another chance if we leave.”
He tucked her against him and led the way back to the building.
Worley’s door was locked, but Gabriel made quick work of it. A few of the other boarders wandered by, but no one said anything. Nice neighbors.
The room was dark. He took her arm and led her inside. She didn’t know what to think of his care in touching her again. Gabriel shut the door and opened the curtains. Marietta examined the decor. The bedroom was pretty average, if dingy. Nothing too exciting.
There was a stack of parchment on the desk that was pushed up against the wall with some charcoal on top. She walked over and saw a partially completed sketch of a woman. She looked very similar to one of the women in the coroner’s sketches.
“Gabriel. Look at this.” She moved the picture aside, but the rest of the papers were clean. There were charcoal marks on the wood of the desk and a few smudges on the wall in front.
He didn’t respond.
“Gabriel, I think Worley drew a picture of one of the victims.” She turned.
He was just standing there, knuckles white around the cupboard handle, staring inside. “I think you are correct,” he finally said.
She hurried over and looked around his shoulder. The window allowed just enough light to see sketches plastered all over the three walls. Women’s faces stared back. Handbills, notes, newspaper clippings. middlesex murderer captured! There were dates and times. Lists of names and places. Candle stubs clustered around the floor. A mad type of makeshift shrine.
“Oh my.”
“Quite.”
There were handkerchiefs and scraps of lace pinned to the wall in between the other items.
“What are these?”
“Pieces from the victims? I don’t know.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. It all seemed too grotesque.
“Let’s light the candles. Do you see any—ah, there we go.”
Soon there was an eerie blaze on the floor, casting wicked shadows on the sketches. The sketches were quite lifelike—even the one of the mysterious woman with a veil—making them appear more bizarre. The women’s eyes appeared to be looking down on them, and Marietta felt a shiver. It was as if she was in Abigail’s journal and these women were sitting in judgment. There was a yellowish tinge to Gabriel’s face, an odd effect of the lighting. Marietta took a quick look behind her; the last thing she wanted was for Worley to wander in while their backs were turned.
She looked at the sketches. Most of them consisted of eyes, some of other body parts, a few of profiles or full faces draped with fabric or animals to partially hide the view. “There are four or five different women sketched here. Maybe more. And one looks considerably older than the rest. His mother, maybe?”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel’s tone was gruff. “Perhaps.”
“This one looks familiar.” Marietta touched a picture of a woman in profile. “Is there another picture of her from the front? Do you see one?”
He crouched down. “I don’t know. Probably some woman on the street,” he said dismissively. “Do you see anything resembling a weapon? They never found one on any of the women. Leads me to believe the murderer is using the same weapon on each victim. A souvenir, perhaps?”
