On their return train journey to Riddleford, Jane gazed out at the endless fields with the sky close to evening. With just a month left to catch a cunning murderer, the stakes were high. If they failed, another woman would fall victim.
"What have we established about the victims so far?" Jane inquired, turning to face Addison, her assistant seated across the compartnt.
"Their ages ranged from twenty to forty," Addison replied, recounting details they had discussed multiple tis. "A mix of marital statuses as well. Two had children. There doesn't seem to be a consistent pattern."
Jane pondered, chewing over the information. "The doll maker ntioned sothing about a scarecrow avenging a wealthy man, but these won ca from varied backgrounds and professions. There must be a common thread, a motive that drives the killer. Could it be jealousy? A desire for recognition or belonging?"
"The families of the victims had nothing but praise for them, describing them as perfect won," Addison recalled. "I wonder where the murderer is disposing of the organs."
"The kills are clean, as if it were being done by an expert," Jane's eyebrows furrowed, and she then assigned a task, "I need you to send details of this case nationwide. Ask every contact to forward the information."
"But, milady, might that not stir public fear?" Addison's brow creased with concern.
"It will. Which is why you will need to do it carefully without letting anyone know it was us who tipped it," Jane stated before pursing her lips. "The sergeant will object, but it's a risk we must take. We need to draw this killer out into the open, let her or him know they can't hide forever."
"Do you believe the murderer could be a woman, Lady Jane?" Addison asked cautiously.
Jane paused, her gaze drifting back to the window. "It could be anyone," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the passing landscape.
When they arrived at the station, the train slowed down, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks beneath them tapering off as they approached Riddleford station. The bustling platform was a stark contrast to the quiet fields they had just passed, filled with the clamour of reunions and partings. Jane and Addison stepped down from the train with their luggage that they had carried along with them. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, a voice rang out, clear and joyful.
"Addison!"
Turning toward the call, Addison's face lit up with surprise. "Jasmine?" he exclaid, recognizing the ginger-haired woman waving at them. "What brings you here?"
"I'm here on a fabric hunt," Jasmine laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I heard so much about the place filled with fabrics. It has been so long since I last saw you," the woman then noticed Jane standing next to Addison.
"Jasmine, this is Lady Jane Reinhart. My boss from work," Addison introduced them, and then turned, "Lady Jane, this is Jasmine Robinson. My classmate in school."
Jane noticed the faint blush on Addison's cheeks, a telltale sign of his affection for Jasmine. She offered Jasmine a polite smile. "If you're in search of quality clothing, Madam Beau's store is the place to go. I'm sure Addison would be delighted to guide you there."
Jasmine's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That would be wonderful! It's my first ti visiting, and so company would be much appreciated," she replied, turning her full attention back to Addison.
"Ah, I guess we could do that if you don't mind," he said, looking a little awkward and surprised by the sudden opportunity.
Jane noticed how Jasmine looked as excited as Addison, who tried to conceal it. The woman then handed a piece of paper to Addison, her tone hopeful. "Would it be too much to ask for you to show the way?"
Caught between his duties and the unexpected invitation, Addison looked to Jane, who rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not your mother, Addison. Go on, help her out. I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered to him, ensuring only he could hear. Turning back to the woman, she said, "It was a pleasure to et you, Miss Robinson."
Carrying her trunk, she made her way through the station, while Addison and the woman walked in the other direction. As Jane manoeuvred her trunk through the bustling station, she suddenly spotted a tall figure in a familiar coat. The man turned, his eyes widening in surprise, before settling into a rueful smile.
Jane couldn't deny that Ricardo Wood was one of the most attractive n she had t, and it wasn't because of how he looked. It was because the man knew he was everything a man desired, one that could burn a person, and that was trouble, she thought to herself.
He sauntered over, his approach deliberate, his gaze fixed solely on her. "Are you stalking , Hermosa? Or is fate that we et again?" He teased, his voice smooth.
"It is sothing called work, Mr. Wood," Jane retorted, though his easy smile and the casual drop of 'Hermosa'—calling her beautiful so directly in Spanish—didn't fail to flutter her guarded heart.
"Ah, such dedication to your work. Are you always this cold, or am I getting special treatnt?" Ricardo questioned, his eyes falling on the trunk in her hand. "You seem to have been on a trip. Alone?"
"I was in York with my assistant," she found herself explaining, then imdiately questioned why she felt the need to give him details.
Ricardo stared at her briefly and then asked, "Male assistant?"
"My team is small, and won don't usually show interest in this field of work," Jane responded crisply, turning his interrogation back on him. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Not really. Just when I am interested in soone. A lot," Ricardo replied with a nonchalant shrug, his straightforward interest montarily disarming her.
Jane looked away from him, her eyes falling on people walking past them. She then said quickly, "It was good to see you, Mr. Wood."
But the mont Jane tugged on her trunk by taking two steps forward, the handle broke, sending her belongings spilling across the station floor.
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