to the kitchen where she found her aging husband sitting. She took one look at him and knew immediately what he was about to say.
“Don’t John, just don’t say it, tell me I am wrong.” Maureen almost begged her husband.
“Listen love,” John said getting to his feet and turning towards his wife, who despite being married for the better part of thirty years he still thought looked as beautiful as the day he had met her.
“John, no. Today was your last day.” Maureen said almost pleading to her husband to tell her that her reading on the whole situation was wrong.
“A young girl was murdered tonight, I was there…” John started. Maureen started to shake her head, this wasn’t what she wanted to hear and she wanted him to stop speaking. It was at that point John threw the letter he had just finished reading towards her.
“He is taunting me, he knew I was going to get the case, he somehow knew, this has turned personal.” John said motioning for his wife to read the letter. As she read through the letter it was as if though a calm understanding came across her. Then she screwed her nose up.
“Jack the Ripper?” she asked almost bursting out in laughter at the thought a 123-year-old serial killer was coming after them.
“Yes, we know it is a hoax however after tonight’s events it is clear there is a copycat killer out there, and it doesn’t explain how he knew I was the one that was going to get the case in order to send me the letter before the murder.” John attempted to explain to his wife in the most uncondescending tone he could.
“Unless he is time travelling,” Maureen said with a laugh. “Okay John work the case, the family of the girl need answers but please promise me though that this is the last case. I mean it John after this your badge and gun get handed in and we move on from here.”
“I promise.” John said leaning over and lovingly kissing his wife, thankful of her understanding nature and making a mental note to himself not to abuse it as he had done many times in the past.
Their embrace was broken with the sound of John’s mobile phone ringing, he looked at the number and motioned to his wife that he had to take the phone call.
“John, it’s Kate Ozito from the Crime Lab, I just wanted to update you with some of the forensics that have come back already,” Forensic Investigator Kate Ozito said on the other end of the phone.
“We have determined that all of the injuries on the victim were done with the same knife, there were two cuts to her throat which resulted in massive blood loss, and the numerous cuts to her abdomen, which were done with the same knife as those to her throat, meant that she bleed out and died from the result of massive blood loss due to the trauma her body had gone through,” the Forensic Investigator continued.
“In addition to this we have determined that the paper used to write the letters and the notes are relevant to the Victorian age, so we are looking around 1880-1900, there are no finger prints on record to match those found on the paper and we have a handwriting expert from Scotland Yard travelling to compare the handwriting – he should be arriving in the next hour but will not be making his way to the precent until the morning.”
“Thank you very much for the information,” John thanked Kate Ozito before hanging up the phone. Knowing all too well that this meant that there wasn’t allot to go on, he had predicted that Scotland Yard would send someone, they always do when there is anything to do with Jack the Ripper, the serial killer they were unable to catch.
He filled Maureen in on the information, before the pair retreated to the bedroom for John to grab a couple of hours sleep before what would not doubt be another hectic day at work the following morning.
It was a sleepless night for John Stephens, every time he closed his eyes he could picture the young female sex worker staggering towards him, her throat clearly cut open, her abdomen in bad shape. He remembered that for those initial few seconds when she first appeared to him he knew that there was no chance for her and fought hard to try and save her knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
In the brief moments that he found himself in a deep sleep he found himself dreaming of the 123-year-old sensation that was Jack the Ripper, his dreaming thoughts allowing him to consider the possibility that he was in fact time travelling through life, was this the reason Scotland Yard couldn’t capture him over a century ago, was it he who had returned to kill the female sex worker.
John awoke just a few moments before his alarm clock buzzed, having his shower the thoughts of the final moments of the young sex worker rushed through his mind once again, she was young and her family deserved answers – he would do what he could to get answers for her friends and family.
Pulling his suit on for what could be one of his final times, he ensured his badge was clipped to his belt, his gun stored safely in its holster, he descended the stairs to where his wife had prepared breakfast and coffee, he hugged her from behind, picked up the piece of toast she had prepared and drank his coffee.
He pulled the letter ‘from Jack the Ripper’ from the table where both he and Maureen had left it the night before and placed it back in its envelope before placing it in his pocket to hand over to the forensic department upon arriving at work this morning.
Detective John Stephens arrived at the five-one precent with a new found spring in his step, he was determined that he would get to the bottom of this copycat killer and end his career with the New York Police Department on a high, ensuring himself and the general public that they were once again safe.
“I am Chief Inspector Lemaar from Scotland Yard,” an aging gentlemen, approximately late sixties with silver hair, which looked to be scared of his eyebrows as it receded away from them, said with an out-stretched hand when Detective Stephens walked into the Special Case Unit.
“Good Morning, I am Detective John Stephens,” the NYPD Detective said with his out-stretched hand to the Chief Inspector who had made the journey from England to assist in the case.
“I hear we may have a Jack the Ripper copycat operating around these parts,” the Chief Inspector said, taking John Stephens by surprise at his directness. However understanding that he was here to do a job and probably had family that he wanted to return to.
“Yes, either that or the real Jack the Ripper knew how to time travel,” John said jokingly, Chief Inspector Lemaar looked unimpressed by the quick witted response provided to him by this New York Police Department Detective.
“So what have we got?” Lemaar said once again attempting to direct the conversation back towards the case at hand.
“Yes Sir, we have this letter received eight years ago, paper had been confirmed to be from 1880-1900 in which it told us that ‘he’ would be here last night and where to be. I was the detective assigned to be at the nominated meeting point in which at 3:40am, twenty-two year old Louise Ruby presented with cuts to the neck, and the abdomen,” Detective Stephens informed the Chief Inspector from Scotland Yard.
“The victim die at the scene, forensics found fingerprints but nothing in the system matches. This letter however was sent to my residence through the American Postal Service arriving yesterday while I was on duty. You can clearly see that whoever sent it knew that I would be handed this case.”
“We are sending this letter, along with a note clutched by the victim last night, off for handwriting analysis which is why I believe they called you in sir,” Detective Stephens said summing up the case so far.
“Well I did bring with me the ‘Dear Boss’ letter reportedly written by Jack the Ripper back in 1881, this was brought in order to provide finger print analysis and handwriting scrutiny.” Chief Inspector Lemaar said handing over his own ‘evidence’ document for the processing to begin.
With Chief Inspector Lemaar brought up to speed with where the case currently sat Detective Stephens’ motioned for his guest from Scotland Yard to follow him into the evidence review room, a brightly lit room with rows of shelves filled with evidence, and working tables scattered around the room.
“Re
turn of Leather Apron” Detective John Stephens said to the property clerk as entering, the property clerk directed the two investigators into a secluded working space towards the far end of the Evidence Review room and informed them that he would be back in a few minutes with the evidence – Detective Stephens’ signed the request form to go on record that he had requested the evidence and the property clerk entered a small elevator to travel to the stations underground evidence storage section, returning a few minutes later with all of the evidence and case files collected to date.
Immediately upon receiving the evidence kits Detective John Stephens opened the box and retrieved the note that the victim from last night possessed, and also turned over the letter that had been sent to his place of residence that was supposedly from Jack the Ripper.
“This letter is one of thousands of letters received from Scotland Yard and various other police departments across the country during the Jack the Ripper murders. While some do deem this as a hoax by a journalist attempting to encourage a higher distribution rate for his magazine it is the only piece that we at Scotland Yard believe may have actually come from ‘Jack the Ripper’ himself,” Chief Inspector Lemaar explained once again retrieving the 123-year old piece of paper from his pocket and placing it on the evidence review