She trailed her fingers along the walls, feeling each nook and cranny. She could see nothing, hear nothing. But she could feel. She'd stanched the blood on the back of her head with a piece torn off a blanket she had found. Her throat was raw from screaming and dry from thirst. Feeling was vastly overrated, she thought wiry. She carefully walked around her prison again. Six strides, turn, then four strides then turn again, six, then four. She knelt at the door and traced its outline. There was a crack along the bottom, no light from the outside, just a small crack, big enough for a rat. Her nails still burned from trying to pry at the solid wooden door. Deborah Goren did not know why she was in this place. She remembered being awoken from a deep slumber by a noise in the hallway of her orphanage. She had assumed it would be one of her more troubled charges sneaking around. When she had found everyone asleep and no sign of any intruder, she had returned to her room. As soon as she had opened her door someone had struck her hard on the back of the head. Then she had woken up in this dark hell. Deborah did not know had long she had been here, maybe hours, maybe a whole day had passed, she could not be sure. Her whole world now consisted of a bucket, straw strewn over the stone floor, and a ragged blanket. She pressed her fingers against the door, shifting them inside the crack as she tried once again to pry it open. After a while she gave it up as a lost cause. Despair filled her soul. She went to a corner with her blanket, sat down and clutched the Star of David on her neck as she wept.
"Reid, I got here as soon as I heard." Jackson entered the room with a medical bag in hand. Reid's wide eyes met his own, startling him. Jackson had never seen Reid this frightened. Reid gestured to him and Drake and then spoke to the rest of the constables.
"You two, with me. The rest of you get out and search the area, ask around to see if anyone has heard or seen anything out of the ordinary." Reid shut the door with the three of them inside; his eyes searched the room resting momentarily on the blood, a shattered lantern, and the various items scattered about the floor. "Miss Goren heard something that awakened her. She leaves the room with her lantern and comes back to find her things being riffled by some assailant-"
"No, her room would have been searched after." Jackson interrupted.
"Why?" Reid asked.
"The blood is on top of the books and clothes. She would have been hit from behind, with the back of that poker, I don't doubt." Jackson put his hand out to a poker lying amongst the glass. "See the blood on the end of the handle there. She would have been knocked to the floor." Homer Jackson gestured at the various points on the floor. "There the outline of her body, the blood pooling from the back of her head." Drake nudged his side roughly and Jackson began to notice the effect his words were having upon Reid. "Sorry." He muttered.
"Never mind." Reid waved his hand and returned to his study of the room. "So the intruder then goes though her things, searching for…something. After finding it or not, he takes her with him." Reid remained silent for a few moments, his attention once more riveted to the large pool of dried blood. Jackson felt he had to say something comforting.
"I know there is a lot of blood, but head wounds often bleed a lot more than they should, I'm sure she's alright." Reid's eyes snapped up and slammed into his soul.
"Do not make presumptions. You know nothing of the kind, and the fact that she is not here and remains with her captor means she is not alright!" Drake put a calming hand on Reid's good shoulder.
"Sir, we'll get her back." Neither Reid nor Jackson voiced their opinions on Drake's assertion.
They had searched the twisted streets of Whitechapel, high and low, throughout the night and the morning. There had been no sign of Deborah Goren; she might well have been a spirit for all they could find of her. Edmund Reid tried not to think that way. He sat in his office going over the events of the past day. They had spoken to her children and found they knew nothing of the events leading up to Ms. Goren's abduction. One child, a young boy, had discovered her disappearance after waking to a noise sounding from her room. When he had opened her door, she was gone, and all was as they found it. The boy had then run for the police. He swept the papers from his desk in a fit of frustration and clutched his head. He could not for the life of him imagine why anyone would want to harm Ms. Goren. She was the very picture of good will and charity. The only blemish in her life was he himself. He prayed to God that he was not in some fashion the cause of her current distress…
He returned home at Jackson's impertinent insistence. He had convinced him at length and repeatedly that he could not aid Ms. Goren's present predicament if he fell flat on his face from exhaustion. Reid had reluctantly agreed to his urging. Which was why he found himself staring at his own house, as if at a stranger's, with little memory of how he had gotten home. He entered, went to his bedroom and proceeded to collapse onto his bed, after first taking of his shoes and coat. Emily came into the room soon after. She sat beside him on the bed and rested a hand on top of his.
"Has something happened?" She asked tentatively.
"Something? Yes, something has indeed happened." He said as he pulled his hand roughly from her grip.
"What is the matter with you?" She asked, shocked brown eyes met his grey ones.
"Ms. Goren." He said honestly.
"Our friend, the Jewess who runs the orphanage? Is she not well?" She asked, concern tingeing her voice.
"I'm afraid that she is not." He replied.
"Oh Dear God! What has happened?" Emily exclaimed.
"She has vanished, been taken forcibly from her room, there was much blood at the scene." He said as indifferently as he could.
"Edmund, I can see why you are upset. She is a very kind woman. Is there a chance that you will find her?" Emily looked at him with understanding and once more grasped his unresisting hand in hers.
"I hope so Emily, I truly do hope so." His other hand reached out to hold hers, until she pulled away moments later, uncomfortable with the feelings his heated touch stirred within her.
"I shall go and pray for her." She said, leaving to go to her church and do just that. Edmund stared after her.
"If you must." He said with finality.