“I’ve never seen the like,” Sam confessed, studying the body on the table. Aside from the sawbones’s needlework, the bruises that circled the throat stood out. As the American had said, she’d been strangled more than once. Pushed to the brink of death, and brought back, over and over again. What kind of madman would do that? “We get plenty of murders in Town. I recall all too vividly, sir, the hideous murders of the Marr household at the East End. Everyone, including the wee babe and Mr. Marr’s apprentice, were bludgeoned, their throats slit.”
The Duke’s blue gaze darkened. “I heard about that crime. They caught the perpetrator, did they not?”
“Not then. A similar crime occurred almost a fortnight later, at the King’s Arms Inn. John Williams, a sailor, was arrested for that heinous act. He hung himself later, so most likely he was the culprit.”
“You have doubt?”
Sam shrugged. “Don’t matter what I think. The fellow’s dead. And the folks drove a stake right through his black heart so he could never rise again.”
“Superstitious nonsense.”
“Aye. But it made them feel better. And it must’ve worked as there’ve been no like crimes since.” Sam grinned.
“Or it could mean he was the true culprit,” Aldridge remarked dryly.
“Aye. That too.” Sam reached to draw the wool blanket over the girl. “You know, I was among those at the first murder scene. It was a bloody mess. There’s less blood here, but . . . this seems worse somehow,” he said quietly. “This seems more . . . evil.”
The Duke nodded solemnly. “I consider myself an enlightened man, but I agree with you, Mr. Kelly. What was done to this girl was evil.”
He moved toward the door, glancing back at the Runner. “If we’re done here, I’d like to return to my study. I have something else to discuss with you before you leave for Town.”
Sam eyed the Duke warily, but said nothing until they walked into the study ten minutes later. “You are aware that your man of affairs in Town already gave me my terms, sir?” he asked, and held his breath. As the terms had been extremely generous, he hoped there hadn’t been a miscommunication in that regard.
“Yes, I’m quite aware.” The Duke moved behind his desk and sat down. “I have another matter to discuss with you.”
“Oh?”
He hesitated. “I am afraid it shall add to your burden, Mr. Kelly. Naturally, I am prepared to pay. It will, however, require your greatest discretion as it is a sensitive matter.”
A slow smile spread across Sam’s face. The gentry were an odd lot, but there were reasons he enjoyed dealing with them.
“I am always discreet, sir.”
20
Kendra couldn’t say that she was getting used to being in the nineteenth century, but she now had a routine, which meant helping Rose again in the kitchens the next morning for another marathon of potato-peeling. God, if she never saw another spud—unless it was already baked, broiled, boiled, or mashed on her plate—she’d die happy. And Rose still managed to fill up three pots to every one she did.
Not that she was counting.
Around noon, she grabbed a couple of apples from a nearby barrel and escaped outside. The temperature was in the low seventies, but seemed cool after the stifling heat of the kitchens. She followed the pretty flagstone path that wound its way around the vegetable gardens. Aware that she was under observation from the gardeners, she veered off the path, up the gently sloping hill, into the shadowy forest.
Without the heavy basket she’d carried the other day, it took her less than fifteen minutes at a brisk pace to reach the lake, another ten to walk the perimeter. The waterfall wasn’t big, but the cascade came over in a steady sheet, churning up the water at its base. Kendra could imagine Jane Doe being swept over, floating to the calmer waters of the shore before becoming entangled in weeds and cattails. If the nuncheon hadn’t occurred, she wondered how long it would have taken to discover the body.
Careless or uncaring? she wondered. There was a difference. Careless meant the unsub had hoped that by tossing the body in the river, it would be carried to the ocean. Uncaring meant he didn’t have a problem if the body was found. Careless meant he was getting sloppy. Uncaring meant he was getting bold.
She climbed the steep terrain to the top of the waterfall. The river widened to about sixty feet. On either side were Chest Wood trees, ancient oak and pine, tall weeds, and a scattering of wildflowers, their colors popping amid the greenery. Picking up her skirt, she followed the waterway for about half a mile before angling off to climb the hill. At the top, she did a slow scan of the surrounding countryside.