Page 144 of When We Touch

But she could find no handy rock or log, not quickly enough, and so, she took off again. As she ran, she heard a bubbling sound. There was a stream or a brook ahead.

A stream. She burst out from the bushes and saw that there was a rickety little wooden bridge ahead of her. She raced for it. As she started over it, a log beneath her feet gave. She almost cried out, but caught herself in time.

He was coming, and coming fast. She ducked down, and began ripping at the old rotting planks. The first fell into the rushing stream and rocks below. The second came apart in her hands.

She could see him, then. He was coming out to the thin strip of embankment that bordered the bridge. She wrenched hard at a third log, then looked at the gap she had created.

“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! You’re just what I needed, you know? There was that instant’s gratification at first. The look in their eyes as my fingers wound around their throats. Then, there was one—she was choking, couldn’t breathe, but she squealed a little. Still, got to see her face as my knife went across her throat. Had to shut them up. Then there was more. Of course. And it was so much fun. Destroy me, would you? I almost brought down all London!” He was staring at her, then, from the embankment. She had one of the planks in her hands, and he would have to attempt quite a leap to get to her.

He started to laugh. “Do you believe all that? Ah, should I tell you the truth or not? Are you wondering if you’re going to fall prey to a man who’s an animal—because you made him one!—or am I Jack the Ripper, a fiend to the utmost degree?”

He started toward her once again. She waited. And waited.

He walked slowly, assessing the situation. He seemed totally in his right senses, no longer worrying the knife, but keeping it firmly in his right hand.

“Ah, can I leap that distance?” he asked her, and smiled.

He walked to the base of the bridge.

“Are you Jack the Ripper?” she asked him.

And he grinned, taking his first step upon the bridge. Then another, and another. He was about five feet from her. The span she had broken was perhaps four.

He started to laugh suddenly. Then, he turned, walked back, and started to run.

He was going to try to leap the distance.

* * *

Jamie broke out onto the embankment just in time to see the man running.

He tore out after him.

Alexander leaped . . . and fell, but caught the last plank, just beneath Maggie’s feet.

She screamed.

The bridge gave entirely, and crashed into the stream.

* * *

She was in the water, and he had her ankle. She had so little breath, and was so blinded by the rush and the darkness above. He was trying to drag her back.

Had he lost the knife?

Her fingers curled around a rock in the streambed. She kicked out furiously.

Suddenly, his face appeared before hers in the water.

She screamed again, and choked on water, and struck out with the rock. Her hand moved slowly . . . so slowly through the water.

The rock connected with his face.

He stared at her.

His arm rose as they both kicked and struggled in the depths.

Then, just as she saw the knife rising above her arms, his wrist was wrenched back, and the man was ripped away from her.