Page 55 of From Hell

My chest pulls, as it always does when my thoughts stray to the shit show that is the Ripper murder investigation, and I mentally flick away the dark reflections that assail me even now.

If I bring up the recent murders of women with the same M.O., Dad will say the police have a copycat on their hands, so I go for something he won’t have an answer for.

“My therapist suggested it,” I counter, brushing off his concern. I glance at the newspaper again. “Anyway, back to the present…has any new evidence been found?”

Dad stares at the printed black and white pages like he’s trying to work out what he can tell me, given my previous side hustle as a private investigator for his dodgy nephew, my cousin, Cash.

It annoys me that he does that; refuses to tell me things out of spite. Cash’s agency is small, with a reputation as cheap as the ink smudging its print ads. It doesn’t even have an office, just a website with a contact form that messages Cash on his phone. But it paid well, and my cousin gave me the job without question when I first dropped out of med school. Against my dad’s wishes, yes, because private dicks aren’t necessary if the police do their actual job, but it was all I had. I couldn’t go back to studying all hours like nothing happened. I couldn’t even sleep without a prescription.

I cock my head. “I don’t work for Cash anymore. I have a job at the pub.”

“Good, his agency is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

I ignore his dig at Cash and carry on, “What about the witnesses? Didn’t you have a hotline set up?” I ask lightly, sipping my coffee.

“Are you sure you’re not working on this with Cash?” Dad asks me, eyes narrowed.

“No.” It’s not a lie. I haven’t told Cash I’m going to take the case. Although now I’m sorely tempted to, given the body has disappeared. There’s actually something for me to investigate now. After a few seconds of staring me in the eye, Dad exhales and shakes his head. “No one came forward. They just upped and disappeared. The only thing they have in common is they supposedly met up with women they chatted to on some dating app.”

I bite my lower lip. I paid a hacker to make me fake dating profiles on apps to lure the men away from their usual haunts. It’s the only tie I have to each of them. My dad will figure it out. I don’t know what I will do when that happens. Run? Turn myself in? Shoot the two men on my list and then drive off a cliff like Thelma and Louise, only by myself because I couldn’t ask that of Sage and Nola?

Probably.

I’m going to Hell, anyway. I may as well go guns blazing.

21

LAINE

“Have you seen the news?” Sage asks, breathless on the phone the next day.

I’ve only just woken up, still tangled in my bedclothes, hot and sweaty from a humid night of little sleep, but her words send a bolt of panic straight into my heart. Fumbling with the remote control to turn on the TV, I know what the headline will say.

They’ve found Henry’s body. Mutilated beyond recognition.

“I didn’t—”I didn’t leave him like that,is what I want to say, but the words lodge in my chest, refusing to come out.

“Lainey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, mouth beyond dry.

“Do you…need me to come over?” The concern in Sage’s voice melts the ice in my veins just enough for me to snap out of it.

“No, no. I’m okay. I’m just confused. I didn’t do that to him. I was working last night.” As if I need an alibi to convince Sage.

Sage lets out a breath. “We need to meet up. It’s an emergency. We need pancakes.”

I close my eyes and nod, even though Sage can’t see me. “Okay.”

“Brunch today for the three of us at Miller’s?”

I end the call with the promise to meet before my visit with Max Lamberton and then stay glued to the news for the rest of the early morning. They found Henry dumped on Whitechapel Common close to my house. Far, far from London. It’s a blatant message from my stalker. It has to be. With every report, every shot of Henry’s body, my stomach twists.

My eyes flit to the bedside drawer where I put the gun Nola gave me last night for safekeeping, as though just having it there makes a difference. It doesn’t. I still don’t know how to use it. Not taking up Jaxon’s offer at Berners House’s shooting range seemed like the best idea at the time. It fits pretty well with staying as far away from Jaxon Clémont as possible. My life is too chaotic, too twisted to add dating to the mix. And something isn’t right with Jaxon. Although, that’s probably why I’m attracted to him.

Because something isn’t right with me.

My hands shake when I get out of bed and force myself to get dressed. As the police aren’t releasing any evidence to the press, I decide to speak to my dad.