I handed Uncle a dissecting knife and Petri dish, taking it back and sealing it once he’d placed a sample inside. He shoved his spectacles up his nose, leaving a smear of blackened blood along the brass. He’d have to address that later. People would start fearing him again if he walked around splattered in gore.
“The viscera were removed entirely and were also scattered about the crime scene. Her kidneys and uterus were found under her head, while the liver was near her feet,” Uncle said. “All the intestines were placed on the left side of the body. The missing flaps of skin—both from her thighs and abdomen—were sitting on a small table and are now resting in two bags for further inspection.”
Uncle paused, allowing Thomas enough time to capture everything down on paper. When he motioned to continue, Uncle did so, reporting from memory everything as if he were reading from a book.
“A great deal of trauma was inflicted upon her face. Several lacerations were noted—at the scene—in various directions, and her mouth had been cut down to her chin,” Uncle said. “Her throat appears to have been slashed down to the bone prior to the removal of her organs.”
Using the forceps, Uncle peeled back the flayed skin, inspecting the hollow cavity once containing the life force of this woman. The corners of his mouth tugged down, and he reached for a handkerchief, blotting at his brow.
He set his jaw, then continued with his findings. “Her heart was surgically removed and was found neither at the crime scene nor in her person. It’s my belief it was removed for attempted transplant by the murderer.”
A large, metallic object clanked to the floor. Uncle motioned for me to pick it up. I grabbed a pair of forceps and lifted the large gear to the table.
“Set it there for the time being,” Uncle said.
Something inside me snapped like a brittle twig used for kindling. This had gone on long enough. Murdering women. Taking organs. Now there were gears inserted into their bodies? Each new crime grew more horrific than the last, as if Jack couldn’t control the animal rage clawing his demonic soul one second more.
What would the next victim look like if he wasn’t stopped immediately?
I refused to find out.
I’d finish this postmortem, then go directly to the source of evil and speak with the devil himself. After witnessing him with this woman last night, all doubt of his guilt was erased. Father had hunted his last victim.
If I had to bring all of Scotland Yard with me, I would. Hope for redemption was as dead as the woman lying on the mortuary slab.
“Wadsworth?” Thomas’s brow creased, his tone implying it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name and was pretending not to worry. I put on an air of annoyance and he replied in kind. “You look about ready to mount a horse and go gallivanting into some epic battle. Might you pass your uncle the bone saw before you run off and save the world?”
I glared, but gave Uncle the bone saw and rinsed the other tools off in carbolic acid. We were almost done. Since the body had been so badly attacked, there wasn’t much for Uncle to sew up. Especially since Scotland Yard wanted another doctor to inspect the cadaver before the evening was through.
“It’s a bit strange. Blackburn demanding the body back so soon, I mean,” I said. “Could he be the killer, working on Father’s orders?”
My uncle stiffened, then lifted a shoulder. “If you’re right about your father’s whereabouts last night, I suppose anything is possible. We need to be open to all theories. And we need to test Blackburn out.”
Uncle placed the skull back together, then got up to wash his hands.
“Are you interested in confronting Jack the Ripper with me?” I asked, checking over my shoulder to be sure Uncle hadn’t heard. I didn’t want him dissuading me from turning Father in. Uncle was still trying to prove Father’s innocence. But I’d seen enough.
Thomas eyed me suspiciously. “Of course I’m interested in confronting the Ripper. What else would I be doing with my time these days? Besides wooing you, that is.”
“I’m heading home shortly. Father should be sitting down to supper within the hour. I plan on—”
Uncle thrust a bag at Thomas’s chest. “Take this directly to Superintendent Blackburn, will you? Best we immediately hand over any mechanisms lest they toss me back in Bedlam. Be sure to gauge his reaction.” Thomas held on to the bloodstained bag, a crinkle in his brow when he glanced from my uncle to me. Uncle huffed. “Get on with it, boy. Make yourself useful and stop staring at my niece like that.”
Thomas laughed nervously. Uncle didn’t appear as if he were feeling particularly jovial, however, and Thomas’s chuckle died in his throat. He nodded at my uncle, then leaned in.
“Please don’t confront him alone, Wadsworth. Act as if everything is normal.” He straightened when my uncle cocked his head. “Do give your father my regards, though. Perhaps even a kiss on the forehead. I’d like to remain on his good side, especially when I inform him I’m madly in love with his daughter.”
Shameless flirt. I watched Thomas run up the stairs, then tugged my apron off and tossed it into the makeshift laundry bin along with the others awaiting their nightly cleansing. Act as if everything was normal indeed. As if I’d listen to that absurd plea! A part of me was sad Thomas would miss the confrontation, but he’d have his hands full with Blackburn. I said good evening to Uncle and trudged up the stairs, letting the door shut tightly behind me, then paused.
It was better this way, actually. It seemed only proper that I’d be the one confronting Jack the Ripper on my own.
Father’s reign of terror would cease before a new day dawned.
Of that much I was certain.
TWENTY-SEVEN
A PORTRAIT WORTH CONSIDERING
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
9 NOVEMBER 1888
I stood, hesitating, outside the door to our dining room, the very same room I’d eaten all my meals in, never knowing I’d been sharing food with a monster.
How many times had Father cut into his meat, imagining it instead as human flesh? As fiery as I’d felt on the way over here, the reality of what I was about to do was setting in. Nerves were twisting and writhing through my body, making me jump at every small sound. Even the beat of my own heart was causing a great deal of anxiety.
I had no idea what Father would have to say for himself, or what he might do should I enrage him. The only thought mildly comforting me was knowing my brother would be there, and he’d allow no harm to befall me.
I wished I had the same confidence in Father. But he was past the point of sanity now. Perhaps no amount of reasoning would convince him to hand himself over to detective inspectors. Perhaps I should’ve gone with Thomas and fetched a constable. I heard a utensil clank onto a plate, the sound muffled from this side of the door.
It was too late to run for assistance now.
I placed my hand on the doorknob, allowing myself a few breaths to pull my emotions together. Falling apart before I even confronted him wouldn’t do. If I were to show how scared I was, he’d sense it, lunging for my jugular, no doubt.
I removed my hand from the door, holding it about my throat instead. He could very well murder me. As Mr. Robert James Lees claimed he would. I blinked several times, regaining my composure.
How foolish I didn’t bring a weapon of my own! Why would I think he’d spare his own daughter?
Thank the stars Thomas wasn’t around, pointing out everything I was doing terribly wrong. Maybe I should creep back down the hall and run out into the night. I was without help, and without anything to defend myself.
An image of Mother’s sweet smile flashed before my eyes. Father had inadvertently destroyed her. Weapon or not, I’d not allow him to do the same to me.