“I’d rather not say.”
“Why not?”
“Kate—” He paused. “There are some things that even you don’t need to know.”
He hadn’t called me Kate in years. It reminded me of our childhood. Of a time and place that made more sense.
“Does it have something to do with your work?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And what is your work?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
I wasn’t sure why his work was so secretive, but I’d get it out of him eventually.
As we made our way to Dorset Street, where Miller’s Court was located, things began to return to their normal cadence between us and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The city seemed to decay the farther we drove into the Whitechapel District. The sanitation and health conditions were abysmal. The stench of dead animals and waste was overpowering on the hot September day, and crime was an ever-present danger. Even in broad daylight.
Commercial Street was clogged with carriages, wagons, carts, and pedestrians. Dirty children darted between the vehicles, and stray animals wandered from one trash pile to the next.
“We do not belong here,” Austen said as we drove toward Dorset Street. “Don’t do anything to draw more attention than necessary.”
I moved a little closer to Austen on instinct, and he glanced down at me.
“It’s strange and scary to think that Jack the Ripper could be walking this very street right now, looking for his next victim, and we wouldn’t even know him,” I said.
“Jack the Ripper?”
“That’s what they’ll call him after the second murder when he sends a letter to theCentral News Agencyand signs it that way.”
“And they never learn his identity?”
“There are theories—but nothing concrete, though everyone agrees that he was a madman.”
“How many murders will he commit?”
“Experts link only five together—the canonical five—though there are other murders in Whitechapel around the time of his killing spree. Do you remember hearing about Martha Tabram? Some people think he murdered her, but most experts think shehad a different killer because her death didn’t fit the same modus operandi.”
“He commits five murders and then what happens to him?”
“I don’t know. No one does for sure.”
“He just quit suddenly?”
“Yes. Some say he was forced into an insane asylum or committed suicide and that’s why the murders stop.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know—I’ve only just begun to research the case. I didn’t know much about it until two days ago. But all I can focus on right now is knowing if my sister is the last victim.”
“And when does that murder take place?”
“November 9th.”
“So we have time.”
