Knowing the piece of her doll’s leg was sharp and that the shadowy figure would soon find her, Leo made a choice that still surprised her, even all these years later: She’d jumped out and slashed at him with the shard of delicate ceramic. The jagged edge had sunk into flesh, and he’d grunted in pain. But he hadn’t struck back at her.
Instead, he'd told her to hide.
The ridged skin of the two parallel scars on her palm reminded her that she was alive. That the person who had been barely visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the small crescent window could have hurt her, just as she’d heard her family being hurt downstairs. But he hadn’t.
She’d never told anyone about him. Not even the Inspector. For a long while, Leo half-wondered if he had been a figment of her imagination. But the scars were real. He had let her live…but why?
If she’d told anyone about him, they’d have demanded to know why one of the killers had saved her. Guilt over it had eaten away at her for so long, and the more time that went by, the more impossible it became to broach the subject.
Leo drained her cordial glass just as Mrs. Zhao arrived with a tea tray, and on the housekeeper’s heels, entered the new master of the house. Already shed of his jacket and hat, Jasper appeared disheveled. He pulled up short when he saw her at the desk. She couldn’t think why since he’d likely been informed by Mrs. Zhaothat she was in the study. Then again, perhaps he didn’t like seeing her in the chair. It was, after all, now his.
She stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m in your spot.”
He waved his hand. “Stay, it’s fine. I don’t sit there.”
Leo hesitated, now understanding his reaction. He’d been accustomed to seeing the Inspector in this chair. Not her.
“I’ll have dinner ready in half an hour,” Mrs. Zhao announced, splitting the tension. “Will you stay, Miss Leo?”
Her eyes clashed with Jasper’s briefly, who seemed to grimace at the suggestion. Before, taking dinner with him would have been acceptable since the Inspector would have been there. But now, just the two of them, alone in the dining room, might be considered improper.
“Thank you, but I need to return home.”
Mrs. Zhao left them to their tea, closing the door behind her. She clearly did not see leaving them alone in the study as anything unseemly. And Jasper, too, discarded propriety as he loosened the knot on his tie and approached the sideboard. He looked tired and cross as she followed his progress across the room, swiveling in the chair as she did.
“Your interviews didn’t go well, I presume.”
He took the stopper from a crystal decanter of whisky. “Carter wasn’t in. I’ll have to summon him to the Yard, which I’d wanted to avoid doing.”
“And Mr. Bloom?”
Jasper poured, replaced the stopper, and took a deep sip, all before turning to spear her with a look. “I can’t discuss the investigation.”
She’d anticipated that response, just as he probably anticipated her pressing him for more information. Instead, she said, “Did you know that Gabriela was the daughter of Jack Henderson? Of Henderson & Son Manufacturing?”
He came away from the sideboard, taking another sip and tugging on his tie again. He opened a gap at his collar, exposing a golden triangle of skin at the base of his throat. “It was mentioned in the initial report from L Division. Why?”
She blinked and looked away from his neck. Her fingers, resting on the arms of the chair, tapped as she reconsidered her approach. “I’ve had a thought about Henderson & Son.”
Indeed, after Constable Wiley had revealed Gabriela’s maiden name, which churned up the memory of a gossip column she’d read last autumn, she’d gone directly to the Fleet Street offices ofTheTimesand applied to the archives clerk to find the issue. She could already remember most of it, word for word, but Jasper would require more evidence than that.
“What thought?”
Leo stilled her fingers. “I’ll tell you—if you tell me what you learned today from Mr. Bloom.”
With a groan, Jasper sank down onto the Chesterfield and leaned his head against the back cushions. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not bargaining with you, Leo. It’s late. I’m tired.”
She sighed and opened another one of the Inspector’s desk drawers, pulling out the London City Directory he’d kept there. It was the most recent edition, from the previous year.
“Come now, Jasper, we worked well together in January,” she said as she opened the thick directory.
He lifted his head. “Need I remind you that I was reprimanded by the chiefandthe superintendent for your involvement? Another infraction, and I’ll be sent back to E Division.”
“No, you won’t. You’re Gregory Reid’s son.”
“I am not his son,” he replied through gritted teeth. She didn’t understand why he always fought the claim, especially when she knew Jasper had loved him as a devoted son would.
“As good as, and everyone knows it,” she said, flipping the pages as she searched.
