Chapter 4

Tuesday evening, July 12; oh what a fine evening this is. I suspect the police should be finding miss Lindsay right about now. 'Twas a shame, she was awfully pretty. I do hope they come looking for me, I enjoy a good chase. But nevertheless, this is a perfect evening for a walk. I shall take a break from my work tonight, as exciting as it is, and simply go for a stroll.

Thomas walked southbound down the sidewalk of Madison Avenue, watching as people all around him conversed with each other and walked past others as if others did not exist. New York City; a haven for the rude and impolite. New York City; the new Whitechapel. Yes, Thomas enjoyed his work greatly, and thought it an honor to be continuing the work of Jack the Ripper. He was obsessed with the infamous serial killer ever since he first heard of him as a young child, and since then has devoted nearly his entire life to studying all the files relating to Jack; studying his techniques of killing, and his methods of sweet-talking the prostitutes. Yes, Thomas was the Jack of the 21 Century.

He came to a crossroads just at about the time the sun was completely set. The street lamps suddenly came on, as he waited for the signal to cross the street. He was alone at the corner of the sidewalk, if only for a moment, before a little girl slowly sidled up to his side. She looked up at him with bright green, innocent eyes, looking over his clothing. He had not taken notice to her yet. Long black hair fell down to her lower back, as her pale skin almost illuminated from the streetlights. In her left hand she held, by the arm, a worn out, old doll which was dragging along the ground. She stood up to his waist, at most. No taller than that.

With her right hand she tugged on his pant leg, as he finally looked down at her with almost shock.

"Can I help you little girl?" Thomas asked, bewildered.

"Why are you wearing such funny clothes?" Asked the little girl, her voice soft and sweet.

Thomas smirked slightly, responding, "Oh, well I'm a very important man, so I must always look my best. I never know when I might be called in for a job."

The little girl dropped her right arm before asking, "What do you do?"

Thomas was getting a little annoyed, now noticing that it was clear to cross the street. However, he answered her question. "Well, I do a little work on the streets. I – I clean up the streets, so to speak."

The little girl looked at him, confused, before asking again, "So you're a garbage man? That doesn't sound important to me." Thomas couldn't help but laugh.

"My name's Mary Jane, but my friends call me Emmy, so you can too. What's your name, mister?"

Thomas almost fell back when she said her name. 'Mary Jane.' It was almost as if he was being haunted by the past. Mary Jane Kelly was the latest victim, who was supposedly killed by Jack the Ripper, on the night of November 9, 1888. Thomas grew silent for a moment, before Mary Jane asked again.

"What's your name, mister?"

"My – my name...it's Thomas." He responded hesitantly.

"Thomas? Well, that's a boring name. Oh well." She said as she looked away suddenly, sighing. "Where are you going now, Thomas?"

"I – I'm out for a walk. That's all."

"Oh?" said Mary Jane, curious. "Where to?"

"No where in particular. Just...out for some fresh air, away from work for the moment."

"Yeah, I understand. Garbage is very smelly, I'd want to get away from it too."

"Where is your mother?" Questioned Thomas.

Mary Jane pointed behind her at two women talking to each other. "She's over there, talking to some lady. She didn't notice I left, she never pays attention to me."

Thomas looked over at the woman whom Mary Jane pointed to; a slender, average-height woman with short black hair, fitted in a tight red dress with a red purse around her shoulder.

Looks like a whore to me. But get a grip, she's not who you're supposed to kill..

"I'm sorry," he said, in reference to her mother never noticing her.

"It's okay, I'm fine. She does it so much that I'm used to it."

"Hmm." Thomas mumbled something under his breath, before he asked casually. "How old are you?"

Mary Jane tilted her head slightly to the side before responding. "10. How old are you?"

Thomas smiled; She was so innocent. Why couldn't all girls be this innocent? "I'm 37."

"Wow, you're old." Mary Jane laughed slightly, causing Thomas to smile as well. He sighed momentarily, before continuing.

"Well, I must be going." He said abruptly, before starting to walk away, across the street.

"Going to work?" Mary Jane said curiously.

"Yes, you could say that. Good bye...Mary Jane." Thomas said, hesitantly.

"I said call me Emmy." She said in a whining voice.

"Right then. Good bye, Emmy." Thomas responded before he turned away from her again and walked to the other sidewalk across the street.

Mary Jane called out to him, though she wasn't sure if he heard. "Good bye Thomas!" She watched him for a moment before she turned and started walking in the other direction, back to her mother.

Thomas continued walking down the street, not looking back at her, simply staring at the ground before him. He wasn't sure if this was by pure coincidence, or something else. He didn't believe in 'signs' and the like, but now he began to question it. Was it a sign? Or was it just a mere coincidence?

I must relieve myself of this tension. I've taken a break from my work long enough. I will retreat home for now, and in the night I will get to work. But before I do that, I must see how the boys in blue have handled miss Lindsay. Yes, I wonder what they'll make of this one.

All the while this was happening, the police had just arrived at the murder scene of one Lindsay Day.