John paced in front of the blackboard, counting his steps carefully as he did to keep his mind from wandering.

"Compulsive behaviors are usually a sign of mental distress." He looked up to see Doctor Smith at the door. She removed her hat, shaking her head as she did, "But I won't presume to judge you in your domain."

"Perhaps next time we discuss the case we can go to your domain." John tapped on the blackboard, "I've got a few theories, if you care to hear them."

"Don't mind if I do." She stepped toward it, face immediately blanking as she read the notes there. "You're confident it's a serial and not similar murders by a group or perhaps a copycat?"

"I ruled out the idea of a copycat because the details of the murders haven't been released to the press." John leaned on the desk, "It's hard to copy something you don't know happened."

"True, "Doctor Smith conceded, "And what about group dynamics?"

"Not enough abuse for it to be multiple perpetrators. In a group the victim is usually beaten to death, not with a slash to the throat."

"What about a duo? It could be training?"

"I ruled out the possibility of a master-apprentice relationship." John tapped his finger on the first photograph, "The throat slitting again."

"What about it?"

"The pull of the blade." John raised a pen and brought it to his throat, "If the perpetrator were taller than the blade would pull up on completion, shorter it pulls down. Since all the cuts are pulling up I postulate we're looking for someone taller than their victims and the pulls are all up in direction."

"What if both master and apprentice are taller than the victims?" She folded her arms over her chest as John replaced the pen, "Women are, on average, shorter than men and these women run smaller than average already."

"Killing in a back alley's a close business. Risk of exposure's great if even one person happens to walk by." John shook his head, "This was an individual."

"The women were strangled and then cut," Doctor Smith held out her hands, "What if the throat was slit from the ground?"

"There's no bruising on the chest."

"Your point?"

"The knife edge, to make those jagged cuts, is not sharp. With the kind of force required and given the body wouldn't be in fully set rigor yet, it'd take significant strength to pull across a body laying on the ground and cut the throat without leaving a far more jagged line." John tapped the photo, "He strangled the woman and used her own weight to bear down on the knife as he cut. This was personal."

"Personal is only half of it, Detective," She pointed to the hazy images, "This is the work of passion."

"You mentioned last night when you said the throat was slit post-mortem."

"Yes. In none of the three murders were the women cut before they died."

"You examined all three of the bodies?"

"Yes and, in agreement with the mortician, I can say whoever did this strangled these women to death."

"In my experience that's usually reserved for unruly wives and children or when a tense conversation got particularly heated. Not as a payment on services rendered."

"Exactly my point." Doctor Smith took up position in front of a picture. "What did this whore do to entice his ire?"

"Excuse me?"

Doctor Smith turned, pointing at the photograph, "You do know she's a whore yes?"

"The term, I believe, is prostitute."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

John shook his head, "This woman, though her occupations and her state in life would lead all to believe she is very low indeed, is more than her work. She worked as a prostitute, for reasons that are beyond me, but it wasn't all she was."

Doctor Smith smiled, "I'd never assume for a moment it was and I'm glad you don't either."

"Were you testing me, Doctor?"

"I find I need to know the footing of the police I work with." Doctor Smith scoffed, "So many of them believe that answers come from brass covered knuckles and billy clubs to the head."

"I'm not of that mind."

Doctor Smith eyed him and John felt a bloom of heat at his collar. "I doubt you share very many minds with those on the force."

John coughed, working to change the subject, "What about your question?"

"Which one?"

"The one about what the prostitute did to incite this man to strangle her in an alleyway."

"Do you have an answer?"

"No, but your question is still valid, and I think we need to really consider what did she do to rile up her attacker?"

"This would cast the assumption that she was in some way 'asking for it'." Doctor Smith inhaled through her nose in a way that had John feeling that her hackles rose with the comment.

"This is assuming that a person of less than sound mind, for some unfathomable reason we're trying to untangle, used an action of this woman as an excuse for their break in reality."

"Is that what you really think or what you'll day to avoid my bad opinion?"

"Having worked with many prostitutes in the course of my duty I can honestly say that they're no more at fault than the child beaten in the factory for not running fast enough through the machines who then gets a cuff to the ear, Doctor."

"So long as we're clear on who bears the blame."

"I ascribe blame to the person who kills another, Doctor."

They both stood in silent thought a moment before Doctor Smith raised a hand, "Can we assume she saw it coming?"

John shook his head, "Given my experience with prostitutes, living and dead, they take a risk every time they open their hands for the money that opens their legs." He cringed, "Excuse my crudity, I'm not usually discussing these issues in the company of a lady."

"Not to worry," Doctor Smith sat on the edge of a desk, "I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be. I only dress like one."

"Well, your attire aside Doctor, I believe you to be a lady and I don't know if I've yet met a finer one."

"Thank you Detective," She ducked her head and John caught a flush of red on her cheek bones, "That's very kind of you to say."

"Costs me nothing to compliment you." John clicked his teeth, "And no, I don't think she saw the danger. Even if she did, what he promised her as compensation was enough for her to risk whatever instinct would tell her to run. Or it was just too late to do anything at all."

"Do you believe they'd know better?"

"In most cases these are not women with very many options. If they're working for a house then they've got a tally they need to provide for the food they eat, the bed they actually sleep in, and whatever rags they call clothing." John circled a few neighborhoods on the map hanging by the blackboard, "If they work for themselves then they're providing for a family and there's another set of needs and wants to consider. Nothing convinces a mother to leave her house like a crying baby or children with grumbling stomachs."

"Then they risk this killer because of an offer they literally cannot refuse?"

"Yes." John took a deep breath, releasing slowly, "They're in danger every moment. I just don't know why anyone would want to kill one unless she refused a request but then most just slap them around or pay them less. I've never seen a prostitute murdered over a disagreement about what they will or won't do for the client."

Doctor Smith lighted off the desk and paced a moment, "What if it's about him more than her?"

"I don't follow."

"The Ripper investigation focused on the idea the Ripper was cleansing the streets of Whitehall by removing whores from the earth yes?"

"It was the Yard's feeling if I read the papers right." John folded his arms, "Are you saying this killer's doing the same?"

"No, and thank you."

"For what?"

Doctor Smith shrugged, "In the course of our discussion about this case you haven't one yet assumed the killer is a man or that any of this is strictly the work of a male perpetrator."

"I haven't but all the evidence thus far suggests it was."

"The rape and the throat slitting, yes. But a crime of passion like this could be this woman's employer taking revenge or any number of women seeking to vent their frustrations at their husbands' wanderings by killing the object of the betrayal."

"Do you believe it's a woman?"

"No, but my opinion should only go so far as the facts do. Since our facts don't yet eliminate the slim possibly there's a woman orchestrating these murders I'm keeping an open mind." Doctor Smith tapped the picture, "If it is a man, why do men seek out prostitutes?"

John raised an eyebrow, "If you're asking that then I think someone neglected a necessary component of your education.

"I mean," Doctor Smith shot him a glowering look, "The motivations behind the decision to have sex with a stranger and risk horrible, disfiguring diseases?"

"Release, for most. Some just need a bed they don't own and a woman they have for a time instead of dealing with the children she'll bear or her shrill voice when he drinks away his savings instead of helping the family. Most just look for companionship since they feel alone in a world and a city that doesn't give two shits if they live or die." John winced, "Apologies, again, for my language."

"Detective, I've worked with the police enough to be familiar with the vernacular of both the police and the people you prosecute. Don't excuse yourself on my account."

"Why not?"

"It means you're being honest and direct in all your thoughts, holding nothing back." She rolled her shoulders back, "I prefer that to an act I have to decipher while also deciphering this case. I don't intend to be exhausted on two fronts."

"Then I'll continue as my genuine self." He waited a moment as Doctor Smith seemed lost in thought, staring at a corner. "Doctor?"

"What about for fantasy?"

"What fantasy?"

She turned to him, "When men seek out prostitutes, are any of them looking to fulfill a fantasy?"

"Like role play?" John took a breath, blowing out slowly as he thought over it, "There are houses that specialize in fitting a particular proclivity. I know a few that design their rooms or dress up their workers to fit a certain percetion or desire but full fantasies I couldn't tell you. Why do you ask?"

"What if this woman represents someone the perpetrator wishes they could harm in reality?" Doctor Smith tapped the board, "This individual could be using these woman as representatives of a deep-seated desire they've decided to finally act on in the smallest of ways."

"If they wanted a fantasy then why murder them? Wouldn't it be enough just to shag someone who looked enough like the person they wanted and be done with it?"

"For most people that's enough because they can live out a desire with reduced guilt." Doctor Smith pointed to the three pictures, "Unfortunate as it is, most who visit and use prostitutes don't see them as people and so there is no guilt that someone's been used they way they'd feel guilty if they sated themselves on someone they actually see as an equal."

"Then they find a particular prostitute to exercise their fantasy and, in doing so, hope to exorcise their fantasy?"

"That's a succinct observation, Detective." Doctor Smith chewed the inside of her cheek, "This is about more than just reaching the end of a fantasy."

"Then what is it?"

"If it were rape then I'd think the person wanted to complete a fantasy about total dominance of the object of their desire but this…" Doctor Smith shook her head, "This is about more than desire or dominance. This is about control in its deepest and most insidious forms."

"A desire to control and destroy the object of their obsession?"

"First the ultimate form of control for a man over a woman is the act of sexual violation. You control her body. Then," Doctor Smith ticked off on her fingers as she started walking the same path John used when she first entered the office, "The act of strangulation. You control her life as you hold the power over life and death for her. You hold their future literally in your hands and that's heady tonic for someone like this."

"What about slitting the throat after? If the power over life and death is already exercised then what else is there?"

"The throat slitting, as the third act, demonstrates a need to hide the necessity of the crime from even the killer themselves. Control over how they perceive themselves and control over the guilt by justifying the action to appease their conscience."

"They don't want to admit they have these desires?" John walked to the board and flicked the map there, "Then why leave the body in such an obvious place? Display for the object of the obsession? Reminder of their own self-loathing?"

"I admit, that part I don't have a theory for as yet." Doctor Smith studied the board, "But since this killer sees these prostitutes as cogs in a machine, toys for their use, then they're discarding those used objects like refuse."

"Hence the abuse."

"Whatever the obsession, the killer's not ready to actually confront the object of their true feelings." Doctor Smith shrugged, "They might, in some way, justify their actions at the end by thinking they've thinned the herd and thereby helped cleanse the world of a form of evil. They might attempt to convince themselves they're doing good through these actions."

"Then the display is more like a cat dragging a mouse in the door," John shook his head, "It's a cry for acknowledgement. They want to be seen for their work even if society on the whole won't see it as a benefit."

"Whatever demons plague this man or woman, they run deep." Doctor Smith turned to John, "I think you may've missed your calling Detective."

"How so, Doctor?"

"You have a remarkably open mind for what you do and your analysis follows logical thought." She sucked the inside of her cheek while smirking at him, "You would make a good alienist."

"I've no desire to study criminals. I only do what's necessary to catch them and make sure they never harm another soul again." John looked up and watched Chief Crawley pass the window, speaking fast to Edith as she trailed right behind taking notes. "Though I'm curious where you got your desire to study criminals and work with Chief Crawley. How'd you meet him anyway?"

"I attended Oxford with his daughter."

"Edith?"

"No his oldest, Mary." Doctor Smith bent at the waist to squint at one of the images from the first killing. "She and I lived in the same women's dormitories."

"She's an alienist as well?"

"No," Doctor Smith stood, shaking her head, "She's a financier. She and her husband, Matthew, work on Wall Street. Chief Crawley doesn't talk about it but Matthew single-handedly saved the family fortune and Mary grew it."

"Impressive." John folded his arms over his chest, "But why'd you become an alienist? It's not the traditional avenue of pursuit for a woman. Especially not a woman from a little town in Yorkshire."

"Been reading up on me Detective?" She smiled at him and took a chair, crossing her legs.

"I like to be informed as to the nature of those with whom I work." He leaned on the edge of his desk, "So how does a girl from Yorkshire come all the way to New York to practice alienism and treat the criminals of the city?"

"Necessity, Detective."

"The city's or yours?"

"Both." Doctor Smith cocked her head sideways, "What brings an Irish boy with his mother to Five Points, convinces him to join the Army, fight the Indians in the west, and then come back to defend his very same adopted neighborhood?"

John grinned at her, "Necessity, Doctor."

"Hm." She stood, "You've given me a lot to think about Detective."

"What'll you do with the information?"

"I'm feeling a little starved so I might treat you to a professional lunch meeting." Doctor Smith grabbed her hat from the desk, "Care to join me?"

John pulled his coat from the back of his chair and they caught a cab to an address Doctor Smith gave the driver. As she settled back, John sitting with his back to the driver, Doctor Smith put a finger to her lips, "Your mother left Ireland after your father died, didn't she?"

"Are you analyzing me Doctor?"

"Yes." She nodded, "It's a habit I developed in my work."

"Do you always ask your acquaintances these personal questions?"

"In other circumstances I'd keep these thoughts to myself, practical and professional since there's a certain unease when a stranger knows a lot about you, but since we're in a position of trust that must be cultivated and pruned I find it prudent that we cut immediately to the chase."

"Constant honesty then?"

"Consistent honesty, Detective." Doctor Smith leaned forward, "This case is unlike any I've ever consulted on for the precinct and I've a feeling it'll test us if we're not careful."

"Test us how?"

"How much do you trust those who work with you?"

John raised his eyebrows as he pulled his jaw down, "I only know them by the reputation that Chief Crawley gave."

"Well, if it helps, I can vouch personally for Inspector Carson."

"Even after he wanted to refuse you access to the body?"

Doctor Smith waved a hand, "Inspector Carson, for all his idiosyncrasies, represents another time. He is the keeper of the traditions and secrets of that period and, as such, deserves our respect. It's not often one can touch history in another person. He guards that time and we're on the verge of forgetting it."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"We need to remember the past, Detective, so we grow from it. What purpose did it serve if we forgot the lessons it taught us?"

"Not much, I'll admit, but that's the same past that prevented women like yourself becoming alienists?"

"It did but because of that we're watching the consequences unfold before our eyes." Doctor Smith laughed, "It took all my daring and brains to gain the seat I had to read at Oxford but it won't be such a trial for the generation I blaze a trail for now."

"I thought they only let women audit classes at Oxford."

"They do." Doctor Smith cringed, "Technically speaking I received my degree from Evelyn College, the sister college to Princeton, but that was through a great amount of arm twisting on my behalf by the Crawley family. They did the same for Mary since we'd audited all the classes at Oxford and had the expertise."

"It must be difficult." John mused and Doctor Smith turned to him.

"How do you mean?"

"To be a woman of capability in this society and denied the opportunity to seek out the resources to encourage your skills."

"Is it any different for those poor murdered women?" Doctor Smith's tone turned somber, "If it can be said, Detective, we're the poor of the earth. We compose half the population and yet we can't even vote for those laws we have to follow."

"At the risk of sounding like I'm trying to dismiss your concerns," John held out a hand, "The blacks in this country are treated even worse and the immigrants struggle tooth and claw for the little they have."

"Then imagine what a black woman or an Irish woman has to endure."

"I don't have to imagine." They were quiet a moment, the rocking of their cab lulling them to silence. "Doctor, I want to be perfectly clear with you."

"Please."

John gathered his courage, "I need you to tell me why you're involved in this case. What do you bring that no one else does?"

"Besides my report with the precinct and my expertise?"

"Yes." John pointed at her, "Why is the woman behind the title and the experience and the skills interested in finding a serial killer slitting the throats of prostitutes?"

"The truth?"

"I think we agreed that was how we'd speak to one another."

"Because there was a time in my life when I could've been those women and I want to find this killer to ensure that those women, no matter their profession or their birthright, gain the safety owed them."

"No one is owed safety, Doctor." John shook his head, "The tragedy of our society is that we are only given three unalienable rights."

"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Yes, I know." Doctor Smith leaned back against the back of the cab. "Did you ever wonder why it's the 'pursuit'?"

"I've always found that those things I fought to obtain had more value."

"Don't these women deserve the chance to obtain happiness?"

"I'm not saying they don't but we can't guarantee safety to anyone in their pursuit of that happiness."

"But we are supposed to guarantee life, Detective, and I want this case so I can help these women live just a little longer if I can."

"It's a noble effort." John tried to give her a reassuring smile but it only pulled his mouth taut.

"But you find it ultimately futile?"

"I find it the road to more sorrow than joy."

"Did you walk this road by personal experience?"

"Too often and it gave me too much."

Doctor Smith sighed, looking out the window of the cab, "The Bible says 'Blessed are the poor in spirit' so perhaps it's a test to help you receive the gifts awaiting the poor and humble."

"I'm not really poor in spirit and I can't claim my trials rendered me overly humble."

"We're all poor, and humble Detective," Doctor Smith shrugged, "We're just all poor and humble in different ways."