Doctor Charles Grazier Page 8

  I have to stay quiet and get out of here fast.

  Still struggling with the board, I have to start pushing with my shoulder. This causes a very faint rattling noise, but I guess that's okay so long as the others are all the way round at the rear of the house. The board doesn't seem to be coming loose very easily, however, and I'm starting to worry that I might need to try another option. Reaching up, I feel several nails that are still holding everything in place, and pulling at their heads doesn't seem to help. Still, for now all I can do is try to firmly – but quietly – break the board open, even though so far I don't seem to be making any progress at all. I turn and put my shoulder against one corner, and then I start -

  Suddenly I hear footsteps downstairs, and the sound of voices as Alex and Nick come back inside. A moment later, I hear them starting to come upstairs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Doctor Charles Grazier

  Thursday October 4th, 1888

  Finally she falls still.

  ***

  Sobbing, bleeding profusely from wounds around my chest and abdomen and waist, I drag myself through the open doorway and into the main part of the basement. I've already split several fingernails against the rough floor, and I'm trembling terribly with fear and pain, but finally I feel my feet bumping against the frame of the door. I haul myself a little further, and then I turn and look back into the storage room.

  I let out a shocked gasp as soon as I see her.

  Catherine – or the thing that masquerades as Catherine – is slumped in the darkness. Her furious attack lasted for several minutes, but eventually she seemed to tire. As soon as she slithered off me, I began to drag myself free, although I was convinced at first that she would come at me again, at any moment. The fact that I have made it out here is a miracle but, as I continue to watch her, I see that she is already turning once more to look at me.

  “No!” I gasp, somehow finding the strength to get on my knees. I grab the door and swing it shut, sealing her once more inside the room. “No, please no...”

  I'm shaking so much, I can barely slide the bolt back into place or turn the key, but finally the door is secured. Sliding down, I feel as if I shall never again muster the strength to move. I have lost so much blood, and I cannot even begin to count my wounds. Indeed, I believe I lost all awareness during the worst of her attack, although now I look down at my body and see that there is blood caked all around my waist and groin. What did she do to me? What did she want?

  I have to end this. Finally, I have to do the right thing.

  ***

  “Inspector Sanderson please!” I say firmly, as I wait at the Scotland Yard desk. “I will speak to Sanderson, and only Sanderson.”

  “And what is this about, Sir?” the indolent lackey asks.

  “I shall tell him when I see him!” I reply, no longer able to hide my impatience. I am in excruciating pain, and even the simple task of standing here is almost too much for my trembling legs. “It's getting late, man, and I endured the most frightful ride over here. Please, get Inspector Sanderson so that I can speak to him. It's about a very important matter.”

  “But -”

  “It's about Jack the Ripper!”

  The young fool opens his mouth to reply, but then he hesitates.

  “Bear with me one moment, please,” he says, getting to his feet. “I'll return presently.”

  “See that you do,” I say with a sigh, “and see that you have Inspector Sanderson with you.”

  As he hurries through to another room, I am left standing along in the corridor. It is late, and I scarcely managed to get here tonight. I cleaned my wounds as best I could, and bandaged them, and then I changed into these fresh clothes. So far no blood has soaked through, but I am sure that will happen eventually. And then, even after I made it to my front door, I found that those pale young ladies were still waiting outside. I hurried past them, however, and quickly hailed a carriage. Now that I am here at Scotland Yard, I am finally ready to confess everything. Catherine is gone, and all that remains of her is a foul husk that sits trapped in my basement. The real Catherine waits for me in death, and I shall go to her soon, but first...

  First I must confess everything.

  After all, if Catherine knows what I have done, she will surely be horrified. Indeed, the only thing I can do now is face justice, and hope that this proves to Catherine that I remain at heart the good man she married. I will even hang, if that is what it takes. Of course, for any of this to happen, I first need to actually see Inspector Sanderson and tell him what has happened. I suppose he will want proof, but proof is waiting in the basement of my home. I can give him all the proof he needs.

  Besides, he knows.

  I am sure of it now.

  All that talk of Doctor Culpepper was just a distraction, a way to test my responses. Sanderson cannot possibly believe that Culpepper is responsible. I am quite certain that he suspects me, that he has perhaps even been watching my every move for some time. Soon the whole world will know that I, Doctor Charles Grazier, am Jack the Ripper. My name shall live forever. I can only hope that my motivations are understood.

  “Hello?” I call out, frustrated that the idiot desk-boy has still not returned. I bang the tip of my cane against the table, yet still there is no sign of Sanderson coming to speak to me. “I demand an answer!” I shout. “This is intolerable! I want to speak to Mr. Sanderson at once!”

  Yet still there is no reply.

  “What is the world coming to?” I mutter under my breath, but then a moment later I hear footsteps at the far end of the corridor.

  Turning, I see that a man is walking this way, with the desk lackey right behind him. I step forward, relieved that I shall finally be able to tell Sanderson everything, but then I realize that the man is somebody else entirely.

  “Where is Sanderson?” I ask, unable to hide my anger. “If he's not here, have a man sent to wake him up! I know it's late, but I don't care. I must speak to him at once!”

  “My name is Hargreaves,” the man says, reaching out to shake my hand. “Might I be of assistance?”

  “I shall speak only to Inspector Sanderson,” I reply, conspicuously keeping my hand away from him. I do not want him to feel my weakness. “It must be Sanderson.”

  “So I'm told,” this Hargreaves fellow continues, “but I'm afraid there's simply nobody here by that name.”

  “Then have him brought from home!”

  I wait, but the imbecile merely stares at me.

  “Fetch him!” I roar, flinching as I feel a stabbing pain in my crotch. “Do it!”

  He sighs.

  “You will fetch him,” I sneer, feeling a little breathless now, “or I swear...”

  “There is nobody at Scotland Yard by the name of Sanderson!” he says with another sigh. “I've double-checked. There's a Sanders, and a Saunders, but no Sanderson.” He hesitates for a moment, eyeing me with suspicion. “Might I be able to help you, Sir?”

  “Of course there's a Sanderson,” I stammer, although I must confess that I am starting to feel a little dizzy. “I was here with him earlier.”

  “I hardly think that's possible,” he replies.

  “I was here!” I snap. “He took me to the room where they keep all the dead girls!”

  “And what room would that be?”

  “The room with the bodies!” I continue, exasperated by his idiocy. “There were scores of them laid out on tables! The victims of Jack the Ripper, and other girls who'd been murdered too! They're all in a big room so that they can be examined!”

  “We have no such room,” Hargreaves replies. “Are you sure that you were in this building?”

  “Of course I was! What nonsense is this? Why can I not speak to Sanderson? I was with him earlier, and he told me all about his theory regarding Doctor Thomas Culpepper!”

  “Perhaps we should go and take a seat somewhere,” Hargreaves says, and now he sounds a little hesitant, as if he's worried about me. “I'm told t
hat you might have information concerning the Ripper case. I happen to be involved with that investigation, so I should very much like to hear what you have to tell us. We get a lot of people coming to us with their theories, but seldom gentlemen such as yourself. I should like to -”

  “He's not real!” I gasp, taking a step back. “I spoke to him! I walked with him on multiple occasions! Can I possibly have been so deluded, so out of my mind, that I imagined the whole thing, stretching back...”

  My voice trails off, and for a moment I think of the very first time I encountered Sanderson.

  “I'm so very sorry to have disturbed you at your home,” he told me, barely three days ago. “I also know, Sir, that you recently retired. It's just that we're badly in need of some additional expertise and, well, Doctor Brown mentioned you as somebody who could be relied upon to render an expert opinion.”

  Could that have all been in my mind?

  “How about we speak somewhere more private?” Hargreaves asks, suddenly placing a hand on my arm. “You can start by telling us your name, and then we can go from there. If you have information about the Ripper -”

  “I have no information about anything!” I snap, pulling away from him. “I must get home. I no longer know what is real and what is a figment of my imagination.”

  Did I even say those words? As I take another step back, these two gentlemen stare at me as if I am completely insane, yet they do not specifically respond to what I said. Sweat is starting to run down my face, and I am suddenly gripped by the realization that I must get out of here. In fact, it is starting to become clear that Inspector Hargreaves and his dumb little friend are eyeing me with the kind of suspicion that one would usually reserve for a suspect. I have said too much, and I must get home as quickly as possible.

  And then, quite suddenly, I see Sanderson standing right behind them, staring at me with malevolent intensity.

  “Do you see him?” I ask.

  “I beg your pardon, Sir?” Hargreaves replies.

  “Right behind you,” I continue. “Do you see him?”

  He and the lackey both turn and look around. They must surely be able to see Inspector Sanderson, yet after a moment they turn to me with expressions of pure incomprehension.

  “Who, Sir?” Hargreaves asks. “Who are we supposed to see?”

  “Good evening,” I mumble, turning and hurrying away.

  “Wait!” Hargreaves calls out. “I want to hear what you have to say!”

  Pushing the door open, I hurry out into the night and then slip down a side-alley. A moment later I hear the door opening again, and I pull back into the shadows as I see Hargreaves and his friend rushing out and stopping at the top of the steps. They seem keen to find me, but thankfully they do not think to come and look for me here, so I simply wait until they start heading back inside.

  “Did you catch the gentleman's name?” Hargreaves asks, and to my immense relief his colleague answers in the negative.

  Still, I wait several more minutes, until I am certain that the coast is clear. Then I head out past the end of the alley and make my way along the street, while constantly checking over my shoulder to make sure that I am not being followed. I feel utterly out of sorts, and I am quite certain that I must have seemed rather strange to those two police officers. At the same time, I know that they did not get my name, and they will most likely dismiss me as just one of the many madmen who populate London's streets at night.

  Now I must get home and deal with the creature in the basement. And then I must finally make my way to Catherine and join her in paradise. I have sworn that before, of course, but this time I shall let nothing stand in my way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maddie

  Today

  “Nah, he's still out for the count,” Nick mutters, almost sounding bored as he towers over Matt's unconscious body. He gives him a kick in the shoulders before turning and shuffling out of the bedroom. “He'll be lucky if he ever wakes up. Or unlucky.”

  Holding my breath, too terrified to make even the slightest sound, I stay hidden under the bed as I listen to Nick going through to the next room. I still have the knife in my right hand, clutched tight, although I know it wouldn't be much use if I had to actually defend myself. Fortunately, Nick and Alex seem far more interested in looking through the drawers in the bedroom, and they're taking their sweet time. They also keep stopping to get a little physical with each other, which makes me feel sick to my stomach but which at least delays them going back to the basement. Eventually they're going to figure out that I'm free, however, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get out the window in time.

  “Come on,” I hear Nick say in the other room, “we haven't done it in here yet.”

  “Shouldn't we be getting on with this?” Alex asks.

  “There's not much more we can do until it gets dark,” he replies. “Seriously, we need to celebrate. We're sorted for life. This time tomorrow, you'll see that I've got everything figured out. So how about right now, we have some fun?”

  I wait, and a moment later I hear the sound of them fumbling together. They're having sex again, and they're being pretty loud about it too. I desperately want to get out of here, but I can't take the risk that they'd see me if I tried to sneak past. Even if I somehow managed to run, Matt would be left behind and I don't think there are any limits to what Nick would do to him then. Still barely daring to breathe, I listen to the increasingly loud sounds of Nick and Alex in the other room, and I -

  Suddenly a hand clamps tight against my mouth. Terrified, I try to pull away, but the hand is too tight and then a moment later I turn and see that Matt – bruised and bloodied, and with one of his eyes swollen shut – has finally come around.

  He puts a finger against his lips, to remind me to keep quiet, and then slowly he moves his hand away from my mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispers finally, as the noise from the other room continues.

  “I got out of the basement,” I reply, keeping my voice low, “and I came to find you.”

  “Are you insane?” he hisses. “You should have run and got help!”

  “I couldn't! They were right outside!”

  “Listen to me,” he continues, “I'm too badly hurt to get out of here. You have to go, Maddie. Do you understand? It has to be you.”

  “I can't,” I tell him, as tears run down my face. “Please, I can't go out there...”

  “You have to. It's our only shot.”

  “I was going to get the window open and climb out.”

  “So why didn't you?” he asks.

  “I couldn't get the board out of the way.”

  “Then your only option is to get down those stairs and out the door.”

  “I can't!”

  “If you don't, we'll die here!” he says firmly.

  I shake my head.

  “Do you think they're bluffing?” he asks. “Look at me, Maddie! I don't know what their plan is, but it's a miracle we're not both dead already.”

  “Alex wouldn't do that,” I sob. “Maybe I can talk to her. Maybe I can make her see that this is all crazy.”

  “I don't know a damn thing about your friend Alex,” he replies, “but that guy in there? He's dangerous, and right now I think he's in charge around here. I don't think Alex is going to stand up to him, so you have to get out of here and call someone, okay?” He pauses, before reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I know you can do it, Maddie. You're tougher than you realize.”

  Again, I shake my head.

  “You don't have a choice!” he continues. “What else are you going to do? Are you going to hide here until they realize you escaped? Or until they come in and find you? You can't hide forever!”

  “But Alex -”

  “You can't trust her, Maddie!”

  “I can't go out there alone,” I reply. “Please don't make me...”

  “You can and you will!” he says firmly. “Maddie, it sounds like they're having fun al
l by themselves, but that won't last much longer. You have to get out there right now. Once you've reached the stairs, if I hear that they might be finished I'll cause a distraction.”

  “They'll kill you!”

  “I'll cause a distraction,” he says again, “and you have to run. Don't worry about me, okay? I can take care of myself. If you'd found a way to get out the first time, help would be on the way by now. Maddie, you're the only one who can get us out of here. I need you to do this.” He squeezes my shoulder tight. “I know you can do it.”

  “What if they see me?” I whimper.

  “Then you have to run.”

  “But -”

  “And don't look back. You have to be brave.”

  “I'm not brave!”

  “Yeah, you are. You're very brave. But if it comes down to it, you have to run and get help.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that I can't do any of this, but somehow the words dry in the back of my throat. At the same time, I can hear that Nick and Alex are getting close to finishing, and suddenly I realize that Matt is right: I have to find a way out of the house. If I stay here, we're both going to die, and it'll be all my fault. I'm the one who called Matt and asked him to come here, and I'm the one who didn't realize that Nick and Alex were so dangerous. Even if the odds of success are low, I have to do whatever I can. Turning and looking toward the open door, I see the top of the stairs and I finally understand that I don't have a choice.

  “I'll be quick,” I whisper, turning back to Matt. “I'll get help, I swear!”

  “Go!” he whispers, letting go of my shoulder and pushing me away. “Run, Maddie! Don't look back!”