The London Murders: Unexpected revelations

"With your superior abilities, and his keen mind, I have no doubt you will be able to make great headway in this case." Detective Tracer gazed at Dr. Welch, no emotion apparent on her face. Dr. Welch cleared his throat, and with a barely perceptible movement of his hand, he tugged at his collar. It always disconcerted him when she looked at him this way.
"I believe we have already made a good start," she said, continuing to look at him. Dr. Welch briefly wondered how she could do it--stay focused on his eyes when there was so much activity going on all around them.

They had arrived at the crime scene some time before. Detectives Kevson and Niles had gone immediately to the bodies, but Jace and Rosie had been looking for something else. Jace walked directly over to Chief of Police Joe Mason, who had gone ahead to the crime scene. Rosie watched him, already knowing what he was asking after--whether this was due to her psychic ability, or simply because she had once known him so well, she wasn't sure. She just knew what he was looking for. She watched as Chief Mason pointed, gestured, and pointed some more. Jace stood and listened attentively. He shook his head and obviously asked the chief to repeat his answer. Rosie realized she was staring, and so started for the wall which was few feet from the bodies which bore the signature mark of the murderer.

"JACK THE RIPPERGER" was scrawled across the wall in the victims' own blood. Detective Tracer stood and analyzed the wall for quite some time. So long, in fact, that her turned back began to draw the attention of the police officers who were running around trying to find something to do. But her still frame gave no need for speculation to her fellow detectives. They knew she would speak to them when she had it all settled. Until then it was best to leave her alone.

An hour elapsed. Rosie's back was stilled turned on the activity at the crime scene--but it had begun to quiet down. Detective Buntley had finished gathering the information he required, and for the last fifteen minutes, he'd stood watching Rosie from a few yards away. She hadn't moved for thirty minutes. Buntley wasn't as used to this type of behavior as Kevson and Niles were, and he was beginning to worry about her.
"She's fine." Jace glanced at Niles, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
"What?"
"She's fine. She does this all of the time." Niles looked back to Rosie just in time to see her sway and then catch herself. "Uuh...."

As Niles was trying to find a thought to articulate, Jace was quickly striding toward Rosie. When he reached her, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Kevson's warning cry of, "Don't do it!" came a split second too late. At the touch of his hand, Rosie jumped and let out a startled cry. Something fell from her hand to the ground, but Jace saw only the tear falling from her eye. She knew he saw it, and she quickly brushed it away. She immediately looked down at the ground. Jace thought she was trying to break his gaze, but when he followed her gaze, he saw the object she'd dropped. He leaned down to pick it up, but his hand froze just before he reached it.
It was a rosary.
Rosie saw his hesitation, and quickly reached to pick it up herself. Her hand brushed his as she lifted it, and her touch seemed to bring him back. They both straightened themselves at the same time.
Jace could think of nothing to say. Thoughts flashed through his head like paintings on display. What an odd time for that cup of coffee to enter his thoughts....
"I'm fine," Rosie said, breaking the tension.
"What was it?" Jace and Rosie turned at the sound of Dr. Welch's voice. Rosie's own voice shook as she began to answer, but she quickly continued with an even tone. "The murderer was under some sort of influence when this message was written."
"Drugs?" Jace asked.
"Alcohol?" Kevson and Niles chorused, coming up behind Dr. Welch. Rosie shook her head in response to both questions. "No--no, I don't think so. In all of my studies in graphoanalysis I've never seen anything like this. Except for perhaps once...." Involuntarily she looked at Jace, but then quickly looked away. She didn't want to remind him of that night. She turned to study the wall again. "I first noticed it after Clarissa's murder, and with each new murder it has become progressively more apparent."
"What is it?" Rosie didn't know which of the men had asked the question. They were all intent on studying the writing on the wall. She took a deep breath.
"She was terrified."

There was complete silence from the men. It took them a moment to absorb her statement. Niles finally spoke up. "You said 'she'." Rose closed her eyes and turned away from the wall. Another tear slipped down her cheek. She silently pushed her way through the men, leaving them to contemplate was she hadn't said.

"Detective Tracer," Deputy Chief Hudson approached Rosie. "I think there is something you should see." He motioned for her to step over to where the bodies had been laying. "We were moving the bodies, and when we lifted the second one..." He stopped and cleared his throat, obviously disturbed by the memory of the process. "We...ah...found a note."
"Let me read it." Rosie held her hand out to him. He placed a pair of gloves in her hand instead. "Put these on." Rosie fought the sickening feeling threatening to envelope her stomach. She didn't have to ask. She put the gloves on, then accepted the blood-covered piece of paper. Hudson waited as she read it. Her face registered shock and then disgust in quick succession. "It's..." She took a quick breath. "What is it?" Jace came up behind her. She immediately handed the paper to him and quickly walked away.
"It appears to be a step-by-step directions on how to..." Hudson stopped and cleared his throat again. "Ah...properly dissect the victims."

Dr. Welch had been observing Rosie since Hudson had stopped her, and when she walked away, he followed. As he walked by Buntley and Hudson, he heard what the note contained.
"Tracer." He stopped Rosie just as she reached the coach. She waited for him to come to her, but didn't turn to look at him. She was still afraid she was going to be sick. "What could you tell from it?" She continued to gaze out at the city lights. It will be light in a couple of hours, she thought to herself. "It was written in a masculine hand."
"What?"
"A man. It was written by a man."
"That wasn't what I meant."
Silence.
"The writing on the wall...it's feminine?"
"Yes."
"And the writing on the paper...it's masculine?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. It would seem...I don't know."
"I think you do have an idea." A new voice entered the conversation. It was Detective Buntley.
"Please, share it with the doctor." Rosie did nothing more to acknowledge his presence.
"If the writing on the wall was indeed a woman's"--Rosie rolled her eyes at this--"and if, as Miss Tracer says, she was 'terrified' as she wrote it, perhaps she was forced to do it. Perhaps by the man who wrote the...directions. Perhaps it is the victims themselves who are forced to write it before they are killed." The voicing of Jace's theory sent a chill through both Dr. Welch and Rosie. Jace turned and walked away, having been called back by one of the chiefs.

"I am afraid I will not be able to do this, Michael." Rosie only used Dr. Welch's first name when they were alone, and even then only when the situation warranted it.
"A WOMAN?!" Chief Mason's shocked reaction could be heard across the lot. Dr. Welch cast a glance his way, but turned directly back to Rosie. She had not moved. She was taking no notice of the commotion caused by this new piece of information. Dr. Welch returned to the matter at hand. "Come now, Tracer. You've worked cases similar to this before. I know you never really get used to it, but you are the best we have. You need...."
"Not with him," Rosie cut him off. "Not for years." She looked directly into her old professor's eyes. "Perhaps Detective Buntley and I would work best apart."
"No." Dr. Welch was adamant. "You work together brilliantly. He was brought here specifically to work with you."
"Yes," Rosie said, irritation barely present in her voice. "And if we were in a different setting, I would have a thing or two to say about your not consulting me in that wee matter." Dr. Welch continued on as if he hadn't heard her, "I have yet to meet two men more suitable as partners."
Rosie closed her eyes in frustration. Even he often forgot.
"I want to bring in Callie Anne."
"What? Rosie. She's been living a normal life for years."
"Even so, she still has a sharp mind. ...And I need her help."
"Fine. Call her tomorrow," Dr. Welch had more to say, but Rosie had no more responses for a moment.
She knew he was right about Jace, and she didn't want to discuss it anymore.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was almost six o'clock in the morning before the work was finished at the crime scene. The detectives were all exhausted by the time the coach pulled up in front of the S4 offices. Rosie had taken every precaution to keep from being seated next to Jace. But, unknown to her, all of her strategies would have been in vain had Jace not also been trying to avoid her.

In her office once again, Rosie found a fresh pot of coffee. She poured herself a cup, and moved to look out the window. She lifted the mug to take a sip.
"You shouldn't drink that." She took the sip, then turned to look at Jace.
"You need sleep." He tried to ignore the defiance in her eyes. Rosie turned back to her desk. "I won't be able to sleep, anyway." Her tone was quiet, and she didn't look at him again. Not that it mattered. He probably wasn't looking at her anyway.
"It's been a long time."
"I'm aware of that, Jace." It was the first time she had used his name. Strange how it brought back so much.
"If we work together on this case, we stand a much better chance of solving it." He was silent for a moment. "I think you know that."
"I am aware of it."
"I'm going to get some sleep at my hotel. You should too." Rosie raised an eyebrow. "At your own place." Jace rolled his eyes, and Rosie bit her lip to keep from smiling. "We'll need to get together to discuss the case later tonight." With that Jace left the office.

Rosie stared at the closed door, remembering seeing him walk through it hours earlier. She suddenly remembered the coffee stain on her skirt. A sudden desire to pour an entire pot of tea on Kevson's head possessed her, but then was quickly gone as she remembered the last time she had seen Jace. It had been three years before in Paris. In front of Notre Dame cathedral. The cathedral seemed to have a particular beauty that night. Entrancing.
Rosie shuddered at the rememberance. The night had started out so beautifully, but it had a horrible ending. He'd left her there that night, with a promise of never returning sounding in her ears. She could still hear it. She covered her ears in an attempt to block it out, then placed her head on the desk--intending only to finish the Rosary she began at the crime scene, but hours later she was still sleeping there.