The mad dash through the shantytown while their prey skirted over the rooftops put them about equal. Even in her skirts Anna kept up with John and they followed the progress of their quarry. Dodging crates and barrels, refuse and huts, they ducked under the fence that separated the shantytown from the main street.
John craned his head up, watching as the spring-heeled woman leapt the distance between one building and the next. He judged her trajectory and nudged Anna toward a cab. She stared at him but he was already running after the woman, pointing forward.
"The bridge. She'll need to escape over the river."
John ran across the road, jumping for a fire escape to climb onto the roof. He barely missed the Wraith as she ran over the rooftop, his hand swiping at air. With a grunt he heaved himself after her, ducking and dodging laundry women, and tore through the streets on top of the buildings.
For all the practice the Wraith had hiding on roofs and watching for her shot, John noted that she seemed to slow. The speed she maintained would not be in keeping with the quiet predator waiting for a lightning strike. His speed, far more measured, kept in line with hers despite her smaller size lending to her bob and weave through chimney stacks and hovels.
With the river in sight John spotted a small boat, tied to a post within jumping distance of a small boathouse. The Wraith jumped for it, landing heavily with the large rifle in her grip, but managed to regain her footing. John struck with both feet, causing the delicate roof to wobble and throw the Wraith off her feet.
She fell onto her chest, her rifle spinning away. John went to reach for it but a foot stopped its progress. Anna bent to pick it up, cocking the lever back and clearing the chamber before holding it over her shoulder.
"Need any help Detective?" She smiled as John lifted the Wraith to her feet, holding her arms behind her back.
"I think you've provided enough." John set the Wraith down and brandished his revolver. "Please don't make me use this."
"Why not?" The woman sneered, "Afraid to shoot a woman?"
"I can't say that's the fear I have since I'd be riding the world of an assassin and a sniper." John settled, motioning for Anna to join him. "I am curious how a woman like yourself becomes such an impressive shot. Mrs. Shackleton had to be over four hundred yards from your position."
"Surprised a woman could make that shot?"
"I'd be impressed by anyone who could make that shot. I only managed a shot from six hundred yards on my best day with no wind." John held out a hand and Anna took his revolver while exchanging it for the rifle. John studied it, "Army sniper rifle."
"My father was a sniper in the War of Northern Aggression sir." The Wraith spit. "Took out twenty-three blue jackets before the war ended."
"Did he teach you to shoot?"
"Taught me to hate too." The Wraith spit and John craned back a bit. "We had to move here because of what happened to him."
"Carpetbaggers?" John clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Not the best of circumstances to be raised in."
"We had nothing and built from there to this."
"To murder?" Anna scoffed, "I'm sure your father was proud."
"He trained me to do what he did and yes, he was proud." The Wraith shifted in place. "That is until he died."
"How'd he die?" John waited but the Wraith just stared at the ground. "How about your real name?"
"I'm the Wraith."
"No, the Wraith was your father's code name in the war. It's what the Union called the man who shot soldiers in their beds as they slept." She shook her head but John continued. "Did he tell you he took them on the battlefield? Did he tell you the lie that he was a decorated soldier?"
"My father was the only hope the Confederacy had."
"Your father was a swamp man who murdered men at night or during ceasefires. He was nothing but a skulking degenerate."
"You're a liar!" She surged forward but Anna placed the barrel of the revolver on her chest. The woman sneered at Anna, "Do you feel powerful holding that gun?"
"I don't need to feel powerful to hold a gun." Anna nodded toward John, keeping her eyes on the woman. "I believe he asked you your real name."
"The Wraith had two daughters. Since one of them did not appear in the census of 1890 I'm going to assume that's you. Edna Braithwaite." John smiled a bit at Edna's gasp. "I did my research on the history of the Wraith. The way people speak about you in whispers is to be commended but, as a former sniper, I know people take names for those things that mean a great deal to them."
"Do they?"
"They called me the Angel of Death when I served in the West." John sniffed, "I'll be honest, I did you a disservice since I thought it might've been your older brother but he's a cripple."
"They crippled him."
"He was drunk and fell in the street. The wagon that crushed his legs, the one driven by your first victim, didn't see him." John took a deep breath. "My question is, why did you decide to work with a serial murderer?"
"What's one killer as opposed to another?"
"Your previous employers and victims were gangsters, thugs, and controllers of political machinations. A serial killer doesn't seem on their level."
Edna scoffed, "You don't judge as I do."
"Were you a part of his crusade to clean the streets?" Anna cut in and Edna eyed her. "He was ridding the world of prostitutes and you did kill one of their madams."
"I wasn't joining his crusade. He joined mine." John watched her face, noting the slightly dreamy look in her eye. "He wanted to rid the world of those who might hold us down. Trap us in our lives."
"You're in love with him." Anna gasped and Edna tried to cover her reaction. "You work with him because you love him."
"He loves me."
"No, he uses you." John pointed at Anna, "He's obsessed with her."
"How could he be? He despises Doctor Smith."
"Then what do you make of the women he kills? How they look just like her?" John waited but Edna had no response. "He wants her and he uses you."
"No," Edna shook her head, "That's not true."
"It is true and you've simply blinded yourself to it."
"No!"
"Tell us where he is and we'll see that you don't rot in prison."
"I'll never help you." Edna grabbed the hammer on the revolver in Anna's hand and pulled the trigger.
The bang echoed about them and Anna stepped back with the smoking gun. Edna's head dropped sideways as her body slumped in place. John stood, holding the rifle in his hands, and turned to Anna. She dropped the gun and swallowed quickly, trying to control her emotions.
John put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. "It's alright, Anna."
"I just killed someone John it's definitely not alright." Anna smoothed her hands over her skirt. "I'm going to be sick."
She bent over, retching over the side of the building as John rubbed over her back. He waited, Anna coughing up the last of it, and handed her his handkerchief. Wiping at her mouth Anna pointed to Edna.
"What do we do about her?"
John shrugged, "She was our only lead to where Green could be."
Anna paused, the handkerchief near her mouth a moment before she finished and folded it into a pocket. Walking over to the body she pulled open Edna's jacket, digging in the interior. John waited, wondering what she could be doing, until Anna emerged with a piece of folded paper.
"What's that?"
"Our lead, John." Anna unfolded it, handing it to him. "She's got to have a base of her operations."
"She wouldn't write it down." John stared at the paper, "This is an order for a repair at a gun shop."
"They'd know where she lives." Anna picked up the rifle, John taking back his revolver. "We ask them and they help us track down her home."
"And hope Green is there?"
"He's got nowhere else to go." Anna risked a last look at Edna, "We have to move fast before he realizes she's been gone too long."
They descended to street level, John finding the nearest policeman and explaining the situation to him so someone could retrieve Bricker and Edna's bodies, and hailed a cab. The gun shop straddled the line between respectable and seedy. The front door advertised to the hunting enthusiasts and the sportsmen while the backdoor offered cut rates with discounts for guns stolen out of larger shipments.
John and Anna entered through the back door to find the proprietor. He stumbled out, hefting a box, and stopped when he saw them. John's quick grab of his collar prevented the man's escape and Anna dumped the rifle in his arms.
"Who bought this from you?"
"No one." John twisted the man's collar, pulling the shirt tight over the man's throat so he choked a little. "It's true. I only ever did adjustments to it. Look at it. It's old enough to be my father's."
"Then what adjustments did you make and for whom?" John let some slack in the shirt as the man coughed.
"Some tiny little woman, maybe five foot high with a box under her feet." He thrust the gun back at Anna. "She needed a scope and wanted some rifling in the barrel. I made the adjustments. That was it."
"I doubt that." Anna pulled out the slip and held it in front of his face. "Why'd she have an order form?"
"That wasn't for this gun." The man clicked his teeth in derision at them. "Don't you lot know how to read?"
"Do you know how to breathe?" John tightened his hold and the man fought him off to regain his composure.
"She came by, two weeks ago, and buys another rifle from me and a smaller gun. I only just got the rifle in this morning and she collected it."
"What about the smaller gun?"
"Sold that one to her the same day." The man huffed, "Had this fancy chap with her. Looked far too fine for the likes of her but she followed him in and out like a puppy."
"Was that unusual?"
The man nodded. "Someone like her's got that look in her eye. The one that says they know how to kill you and they're hoping they can. When she was with him, it was buried under the most disgusting adoration I think I'd ever seen."
"Have you ever delivered anything to her? Taken any of her orders to her home?" Anna adjusted the rifle in her hold, John recognizing the uninitiated's movement of the heavy object to find a more comfortable hold.
"When I rifled the barrel of her gun she couldn't collect it so I had to take it to an address."
"Where?" John shook the man's collar when he took too long to respond. "Where did you take it?"
"An address just off of that street where they market the flesh trade for the upper class. Right on the edge of the line between us and them."
"Give it to us."
The man dug through his files and handed over the address. He folded his arms over his chest, "Lot of good it'll do you."
"Why'd you say that?" John tucked the paper into his pocket, taking the rifle from Anna's hands.
"Woman like that'll have you in her sights before you could enter the building."
"Then isn't it a good thing she's dead?" They left the man, with his mouth open, and took another cab up the street.
They stopped just short of the address. John got out of the cab first, Anna following close behind, and studied the building. A pull at his jacket had John turning to Anna. She pointed to the fire escape and they ascended it to the roof.
Once there, weaving over the uneven tiles and through the hanging laundry, they found the entrance to the building with the flat they needed. John checked the rifle was empty and held it more like a club than as a gun before taking the stairs down into the darkness. With dusk setting in the shadows of the cramped hallways lengthened, giving rise to the hairs on the back of John's neck about the potential for every corner to hide their quarry.
But they encountered no one in the corridors and even found the door to the desired flat without difficulty. John knocked on the door, waiting with his ear pressed to the wall at the side, before he turned the knob. With a push he sent the door inward.
A shot echoed out and John held Anna toward the corner. They waited, John drawing his revolver and going to his knees to aim into the space. But instead of a waiting assassin there was only a gun rigged to shoot anyone who came through the door.
John moved slowly inside, disconnecting the gun and examining it before sighing. "Here's the rifle she ordered for this morning."
"Then he's not here." Anna entered after John, beginning her investigation of the room. "She wasn't planning on returning her either."
"Not if they erected a booby-trap to catch anyone who tried to enter the room." John set the empty rifle down, "We need to get word to Inspector Carson. Get someone here to search it for clues or anything relating to Green and his possible whereabouts."
"I don't think we'll need that." Anna held up a piece of paper, half burnt from the fire. "He's gone to my Institute."
"How'd you know that?"
"I found this." Anna handed the paper to John and he read the contents. "He's made an appointment under a pseudonym with Phyllis at the Institute. He references a child he believes needs out help. The interview is for this evening."
Shaking his head John faced Anna. "This is a ploy to draw us out."
"John, there are children there. Even if it's a false threat I owe it to them to protect them from him. I owe it to Phyllis, Mrs. Hughes, Rose, Atticus, and everyone who looks to me to keep them safe there." Anna headed for the door, "I've got to stop him doing anything to put them in harm's way."
"Anna," John caught her arm, "Then we'll go together."
They left the room, John sending a message to Chief Crawley and Inspector Carson at the precinct while their cab hurried to the Institute. They exited in a hurry, John paying the man and running after Anna inside. The door barely closed ahead of him and he yanked it open to follow Anna up to her office.
Her voice, echoing through the halls, called for those who worked there but there was silence all around them. John opened any doors in his reach but saw no one. He pulled his revolver from his holster, holding it at the ready, as they entered Anna's office.
She went to her desk and sighed with relief. Holding up a note she smiled at John. "They've taken the children on a day holiday. I forgot they planned one."
"Where to?" John dropped his revolver.
"Level Sands. It's a little beach just-" Anna gasped and John brought up the revolver in his hand.
Green's arm wrapped over Anna's stomach from behind, a knife pressed to the skin of her neck. A thin line of red appeared as Green's face stayed half hidden behind Anna's golden head. He snickered, the sound sending chills up John's spine.
"Looks like we're all alone here at the end. Because, in case you're confused, this is the end Detective. The end for all of us."