The sheriff nervously rubbed at his jaw as he considered
Harker’s words.
“We cannot make public what we suspect. It would cause mass
panic. After all it is only unfounded suspicion. We could be wrong. Sibyl may
well turn up, a little ruffled but unharmed, after an ill-considered rendezvous
with her young man.” Yet even as he said the words there was a doubtful edge to
his voice, and he sounded more desperate to convince himself than hopeful of
such an outcome. “We don’t know she is dead. And we certainly don’t know that
it was the same person who murdered this poor young woman.”
Harker had been working in silence, drying each of his
instruments with a scrap of cloth before returning them carefully to the
cavernous bag, but now he turned to his friend with frustration writ across his
face.
“The man who did this will do it again. And he has already
done it before. This wasn’t a single rash moment of rage to be regretted in the
next instant. Here look,” he said, crouching and gesturing towards the body that
no one had thought to cover. “There’s no blood on the ground beneath her, which
means that she was attacked elsewhere and brought here after death. Why? What’s
so important about this location? He could have chosen somewhere more public.
But equally why not throw her in the river and be rid of the body? He arranged
her carefully, staging her almost. Look at her skirts and the way they are
folded. He did that. Why is it so important for us to see her this way?”
He blinked, breaking the intensity of his focus upon the
deceased girl. As he glanced up he noticed that his friend was observing him
carefully. Rocking back on his heels he attempted to regain his usual
detachment. “We need to discover the pattern of his actions. That is the only
way that we will be able to find him. There is a reason, an explanation, for
why he has done this.”
“You’ve seen this before.” The quiet statement held too much
certainty to be a question. Harker stood, brushing the palms of his hands
roughly against his thighs.
“Yes.” The word was clipped and invited no further comment.
His eyes had darkened, fixed on some unseen point, and tension hardened the lines
of his face. Even now the past threatened to seep out from the place where it had
been buried and smother him.
“I have never sought to uncover your secrets. I believe in
judging a man by his actions and you have been a solid ally and friend this
last year. But I need to know anything that might be relevant to this case.
Anything that might stop this happening to another young woman.” Harker
remained motionless as, caught in a web of deceit, he realised he was unable to
divulge that information without unravelling the lie that was his life as
Surgeon Matthew Harker.
“Simon I can’t –” The uncharacteristic hoarse plea was
drowned out by the clash of raised voices coming from the soldiers stationed at
the entrance to the street. There was the sound of a scuffle and then the
pounding of feet on beaten earth. A figure burst out from the passage between
the lopsided buildings. Rowntree shifted forward, as if to shield the body, but
the stranger darted neatly around him. The figure stopped suddenly and the
street seemed oddly still and silent in the pause.
Annoyance and suspicion caused Harker to stride forward. He
grabbed the surprisingly slight figure by the shoulders and yanked the hood
away. The woman flinched back from his hard inspection as he glared down at her.
Her plain features would have been unremarkable if it had not been for their expression
of intense grief. When she spoke, however, her voice was soft but perfectly
controlled.
“It seems you have found my sister.”
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