A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7)

by Monique Martin

  Simon stared at her dumbly. “I suppose.”

  “She’s supposed to lose it soon,” Elizabeth explained. “It’s part of what made her go ‘round the bend. She lost her watch and Graham didn’t use his to save her. That’s how she ended up stuck here and shipped off to Bedlam.”

  Simon nodded. “Perhaps she loses it herself or Graham takes it.”

  “Or…” Elizabeth said with a look that promised he would not like the option. “Or we take it.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “Hear me out,” she said, scooting forward on her chair. “We know she loses it. That has to happen. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think any of us wants one of the watches just floating around out there.”

  Simon hadn’t thought about that. It would be potentially catastrophic to have a watch in the wrong hands, Vale’s aside.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Graham takes it from her,” he suggested.

  “But we don’t know he will. We can’t rely on that happening.”

  “No,” he said, with a sinking feeling.

  “The only way we can make sure what’s supposed to happen, happens—she loses her watch—and that the watch doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, is if we take care of it ourselves.”

  “Steal it.”

  She sat up straighter. “Yes.”

  It was dangerous and foolhardy, and she was absolutely right.

  “Besides, how do we know we aren’t the ones that took it in the first place?” she offered.

  Simon frowned. Vale’s past was part of their future. It was possible their future selves had taken her watch and that’s what caused her to lose her watch in the first place. He sighed heavily. Time paradoxes were migraine-inducing.

  “I know,” Elizabeth said, and then added, with wriggling fingers above her head. “It’s all twisty, but a good kind of twisty.”

  “And how do you propose we steal her watch? You couldn’t get ahold of her purse to read the letter and that was before she was on guard.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I did get a sneak peek inside it and the watch wasn’t in her purse. She must not carry it around with her. I’d guess she’s got it stashed in her room.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t just a plot concocted so you can do a little breaking and entering, is it?”

  “No,” she said. “But, bonus!”

  Simon shook his head. “God help me.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth made easy work of the hotel room lock and they quickly set about searching for Vale’s watch.

  “Laudanum,” Elizabeth read as she picked up a bottle from the bedside. She held it out for Simon to see. “Crazy and drugged. Awesome.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “I know, I know. Shut up and look.”

  She put the bottle back on the table and went through the drawers. Nothing.

  Elizabeth frowned. She wouldn’t just leave it out in plain sight. She’d hide it somewhere. But where?

  Simon was busy looking through the small writing desk, in and under lamps, and anyplace an object the size of the watch could possibly be stashed.

  “Think, think, think,” Elizabeth said in her best Pooh.

  She looked around the room and noticed the two chairs and small table by the window, and walked over to them.

  “I looked there.”

  “Did you look inside?” Elizabeth asked. “My daddy used to stash his cash, when he’d had a good day, inside the chair cushions.

  She picked one up and felt around. Nothing. With the second though she hit pay dirt. “Ah-ha.”

  She could feel something hard stuffed into one of the corners. Sure enough, when she flipped it over, there was a small slit. Shoving her hand inside, she pushed the stuffing around until she felt it.

  She worked her hand out and held up the watch in triumph. “Got it!”

  “Score one for Eddie West,” Simon said, winning a broad smile from Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth put the cushion back and they rearranged things as best they could and started for the door. Just as they’d crossed from the bedroom into the sitting room, the front door opened and they heard Vale and Graham and come in.

  Simon grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her back into the bedroom. He looked out of the window, but she knew it was no use. No balcony and three stories up.

  The voices grew louder and Elizabeth dropped onto the floor next to the bed. Waving for Simon to join her, she squiggled under the bed. She got halfway under when her bustle got stuck.

  “I’m stuck,” she whispered.

  Simon pushed down so hard she thought she might go clear through to the suite downstairs, but it did the trick and she slid the rest of the way between the floor and the mattress. Simon slipped in next to her just as the door to the bedroom opened all the way.

  Graham and Vale were mid-fight.

  “You need to shut your mouth,” he said, his voice low and tight.

  “Do I?” Vale said on the edge of hysterical laughter. “Your pretty little secret isn’t much of a secret anymore.”

  “I don’t know what you think, Katherine, but you’re wrong.”

  “Am I? I know where you go at night.”

  Elizabeth could see Graham’s feet just under the edge of the dust ruffle. He paced across the room. “I don’t know who’s been feeding you these lies, but you’ve got to get control of yourself.”

  “I know so much more. I know the past and the future.”

  Graham laughed. “That sounds like that witch you’ve been seeing. Blavatsky. Are you really fool enough to believe her? She’s a con.”

  There was a pause and when she spoke again it was almost pity. “Oh, Charles. You’re so wrong.”

  “The Crosses warned me about you. They—”

  “Did they?” Vale interrupted. “That was kind of them.”

  Elizabeth’s heart raced and she glanced over at Simon. He squeezed her hand as they both tried to keep their breathing shallow and quiet.

  Now, it was her turn to laugh. “You’re such a fool.”

  “I was a fool to care about you, to bring you here with me.”

  “Yes,” she said calmly, “you were. Too bad only one of us will be leaving.”

  “Yes,” Graham said, now as calm as she was. He walked over and stood in front her, their shoes nearly toe to toe. “Tell me. If I’m what you say I am, why shouldn’t I just kill you?”

  “Because you’re a coward.”

  The words hung in the air for a split-second before the sound of his hand hitting her face made Elizabeth jump. She nearly hit her head on the underside of the bed.

  She looked at Simon, his breathing coming faster now.

  One blow was followed quickly by another. And then Vale’s body crumpled to the floor at the edge of the bed, her face just inches from Elizabeth’s.

  Elizabeth held her breath. The moment stretched out painfully. Vale’s eyes stayed closed.

  “Fool,” Graham muttered. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if that was directed at Vale or himself.

  Graham knelt down next to Vale. Elizabeth looked frantically to Simon. Was Graham going to finish her off? What would they do then? What if she was already dead? Time would change.

  Before Elizabeth could follow that horrible line of thought, Graham stood. A moment later she saw him walk toward the door and then heard his footfalls in the other room. As soon as they heard the outer door close, she and Simon wriggled out from under the bed.

  Elizabeth looked down at Vale. Was she dead?

  Simon knelt down and checked her pulse. “Alive.”

  Elizabeth exhaled, both relieved and confused. What had just happened?

  “Come on,” Simon said, taking hold of Elizabeth’s wrist and urging her toward the door.

  They hurried to the front door and Simon eased it open and peeked out. They stepped out into the hallway and rushed toward the stairs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Wherever Graham is.
”

  ~~~

  They arrived out front of the hotel just in time to see Graham step into a cab. Knowing they couldn’t afford to lose him now, Simon waved another one over and said the words Elizabeth had always wanted to.

  “Follow that cab.”

  They did and it was no surprise where it was headed. Whitechapel.

  “Do you really think…?” Elizabeth asked, unable to even say it out loud.

  It was horrible to even conceive of, and yet, yes, he did really think that Graham was the man they’d been after the whole time. Simon kicked himself for not having seen the signs earlier. Dear God, he’d shaken hands, had meals with the man. It turned his stomach.

  Before long, Graham’s cab pulled to a stop.

  “Pull over here,” Simon ordered and the cabbie obliged.

  Simon dug into his pocket for payment as he watched Graham climb out of his carriage and hurry down a street.

  Once he was far enough away, Simon threw open their cab door and leapt out. He paid the driver and helped Elizabeth out, keeping his eyes on Graham’s back as he did.

  As Elizabeth gathered her voluminous skirts, Simon realized then how much they were going to stick out in Whitechapel. But there was nothing to be done for it and Elizabeth wasn’t about to be left behind.

  Together, they hurried to catch up with Graham.

  He walked quickly ahead of them, furtively looking around him, but trying not to draw too much attention. He, too, stood out in his fine gentleman’s clothes amongst the wretched poor of the East End.

  He turned a corner, and then another before stopping to look behind him. Simon and Elizabeth ducked into a small butcher’s shop and prayed he hadn’t seen them. Waiting as long as he dared, Simon stuck his head back out just in time to see Graham step into a doorway.

  “Come on,” Simon urged needlessly as he grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and they hurried down the street.

  The building was a three story tenement building. There was no telling where Graham had gone inside. Carefully, Simon opened the front door and they nearly crashed into a man coming out.

  “Oi, watch it,” he blustered before pushing past them and down the front steps.

  Simon held the door for Elizabeth and they both slipped inside. The interior was dark and dank and quiet except for the sound of a baby crying.

  They paused and Simon heard footsteps on the creaking stairs above them. He looked at Elizabeth, unsure, but she just nodded, urging him to go on. Careful not make any noise, they crept up the steps. They’d nearly reached the first landing when the last step creaked under Simon’s foot, traitorously giving them away. They paused and so did the other footsteps.

  But only for a moment; then they could hear a door open. Simon held up a hand for Elizabeth to stay put, praying for once she would, and crept halfway up the second set of stairs. Peeking his head over the railing he just caught a glimpse of Graham’s back as he stepped inside a room. Simon ducked down just as Graham turned to look behind him.

  Simon held his breath, not daring to breathe or move and finally heard the door close. Very slowly, he made his way back downstairs to Elizabeth who arched her eyebrows in silent question.

  Simon nodded and led her out of the building.

  “3B,” he said as they found a secluded spot across the street to wait.

  “Why did he come here?” Elizabeth asked.

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t know. But it must be important somehow.”

  They waited in their little spot for Graham to come out again. Barely fifteen minutes later, he did. He seemed much more calm than he had when he’d gone in, but he still looked around apprehensively before starting down the street and back the way they’d come.

  They waited until he’d gone from sight before hurrying back into the tenement. The door was locked, but Elizabeth made short work of it. Her breaking and entering skills were disturbingly quick.

  They stepped inside and Simon closed the door behind them. It was a small, thoroughly nondescript room. A small bed, a chair and rough-hewn table, and a very old, decrepit armoire.

  Simon and Elizabeth shared a confused glance. What was so important here?

  Simon stepped over to the window and eased back the ragged curtain. He could barely see through the filthy glass, but it did afford him a decent view of the street below. He kept watch as Elizabeth started to search the room.

  She opened the armoire and he heard her gasp.

  Letting the curtain fall back, he hurried over to her. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure I want to know,” she said, her voice quavering.

  “Dear God.”

  Inside the armoire were rows of jars and each held something more grotesque than the last. Intestines, parts of organs, pieces of flesh. The wave of revulsion was so overpowering, it took Simon a few moments to recover himself.

  “It’s his trophy case.”

  “I feel sick,” Elizabeth said.

  Simon nodded. He’d known that the Ripper had taken things from his victims, but to see them, to know that Graham was the murderer…it made his head spin.

  He turned away and started back toward the window. “We should go,” he said, and then as he turned back he saw a pair of black gloves on the table. Dread made his nerves spark. “Now.”

  Elizabeth looked at him in confusion, but there wasn’t time to explain. He reached for her and they turned to the door just as it opened.

  “Well,” Graham said. “Aren’t you clever?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ELIZABETH STARED AT GRAHAM, at Jack the Ripper. He was surprised to find them there, to say the least, but as he’d done before, his mood changed on a dime. He smiled at them, genuinely impressed.

  He closed the door behind him, took a step into the room, and reflexively Simon stepped between her and Graham.

  Graham chuckled softly to himself. “Forgot my gloves.”

  He picked them up off the table and ran them through the circle of his fingers. “Careless.”

  He turned back to them and as he did his eyes landed on the door to the armoire that stood slightly ajar.

  “I see we’ve no secrets anymore.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not what I thought it would feel like, you know, being caught out. A bit anticlimactic really.”

  “Katherine knows what you are,” Elizabeth said.

  “She suspects,” he admitted, and then spread his arms, “but you…you know.”

  The way he said the last word sent a shiver up Elizabeth’s spine. He shrugged and sat down in the small wooden chair. “So, now what?”

  For a serial killer who’d just been caught, he seemed terribly calm.

  “I’d very much like to kill you,” Simon said, meaning every word.

  Graham crossed his legs. “I’m sure. But you won’t, will you?”

  Simon didn’t answer and Graham smiled.

  “You can’t. You can’t risk changing time can you? I’ve work yet to do, and you know it.”

  It was horrifying. He was right. They might know who he was, but they couldn’t stop him. Worse still, they needed him to do what he did.

  “So, why are you here?” Graham puzzled aloud. “The Council wouldn’t send someone else to discover who the Ripper was, that’s why I’m here,” he added with a grin.

  “Something else. Something important,” he mused and then sighed. “If you want my help you’re going have to give me something more.”

  “Your help?” Simon bit out.

  Graham nodded. “You know who I am, and yet you can’t do anything with that information or risk the timeline. I know I escape. Handy bit of information to have. So what are you doing here?”

  Elizabeth and Simon looked at each other. There was no use in keeping it a secret any longer. His knowing might just make the difference.

  “We’re here to save your life,” Simon said, choking on every word.

  Graham laughed. “Save me? Oh, that’s unexpected. But a pleasant surprise. From dear
Katherine, I’d imagine. I wouldn’t worry about that. If she tries, she fails. It’s her lot.”

  “Maybe not,” Elizabeth said. “Those memory lapses you’ve been experiencing—those are time shifts. She’s already killed you.”

  Graham’s face hardened. “What do you mean?”

  “Time is in flux between our reality and the one she’s altered,” Simon explained.

  Graham leaned back in his chair. “I underestimated her.” He narrowed his eyes at them. “Why not kill her before she kills me? Simple enough.”

  “And another alteration to the timeline.”

  Graham frowned in thought. “We don’t want that, do we? Too unpredictable. Well then,” he said as he stood, “we’ll all just have to hope you can do your job.”

  He straightened his back. “I suppose I’ll have to find a new hotel. Any recommendations?”

  Simon ground his teeth. Graham smiled and shrugged.

  How could Graham be so casual about it all? She tried to make sense of it. How this man, this man she’d actually liked could be such a vicious killer.

  He must have read her expression. “Why?” he said, echoing her unasked question.

  His insight surprised her, but he shrugged. “It’s the one thing everyone wants to know, isn’t it? I’m not sure I can give you a satisfactory answer. It’s simply who I am.”

  He walked over to the armoire, Simon and Elizabeth edging away as he did.

  He closed the door and turned back to them. He fiddled with the loose gloves in his hands. “I found my mother murdered. I didn’t do it,” and then added, “but I wished I had.”

  He shrugged, as if confessing such a thing were like ordering a soft drink. “I was fourteen when I first read about Jack the Ripper. Fascinating. So clever not to get caught. So, I studied him. Learned everything there was to know, but it was just words in a book. Ancient history or so I thought, until I joined the Council. It took years, but I finally convinced them to send me back to study him, and find out once and for all who he was. And to tell him how much I admired him.”

  Elizabeth shuddered. Graham was terrifying.

  If he noticed her reaction, he ignored it and continued. “Imagine my surprise when I showed up to the first crime scene and no one else came. Except for Mary Ann Nichols, of course. I looked at her and wanted her dead. Needed her dead. That’s when I knew. I felt it inside,” he said, tapping his chest. “I was Jack the Ripper.”