Chapter 16

 

When Ainsley arrived at work midmorning he was surprised to find the body from the river on his examination table. Accompanying the corpse was a note from Simms. You have until 1 p.m. Without hesitation, Ainsley set to work. He summoned an available porter and together they scrubbed the body. As they worked, Ainsley gave a preliminary exam at the same time.

“There was something that caught my eye earlier,” Ainsley muttered, more to himself than his assistant. Adjusting the light, Ainsley pulled the woman’s hair back and examined the skin just behind her ear.

The porter paused his task and watched as Ainsley snatched his magnifying glass from the arrangement of tools behind him. The mark was oval in shape but the main line did not complete the circle. The inside of the shape was pink but not raised.

“Looks like a scar,” the porter said, as Ainsley ran his hand over the raised, pink skin. “A burn, perhaps?”

“Just what I thought.” Ainsley let his magnifying glass bump the edge of the table as he bowed his head.

“What is it?” the porter asked, leaning in for a closer look.

“She’s been branded.”

 

Simms arrived shortly after noon. He made his way down the centre aisle of the morgue, his hands shoved into his pockets and a dispassionate look on his face. Whatever his reasons for allowing Ainsley a look at the body, it was clear he wasn’t entirely happy about it.

“I understood that I have until one,” Ainsley said, when he glanced up from his work. The dissection was nearly complete. The woman’s organs had all been removed and examined. Ainsley was able to take some tissue samples and planned to run a few tests before his deadline.

“Curiosity got the better of me,” Simms answered unapologetically. He stopped just short of the examination table and looked at the corpse uneasily. “Your findings?”

Ainsley nearly laughed at Simms’s insistent behaviour. “Am I not permitted to finish?”

“No.” Simms circled the examination table and went for the heart and lungs that sat in enamel dishes on Ainsley’s work bench.

Ainsley pulled his attention from the body and went to the trough sink to wash his hands. “There was some liver damage, which I didn’t expect from someone so young,” he said over the splashing of the water. “And an interesting heart condition that clearly went undetected.”

Ainsley pointed to the aorta and then pulled the two halves of the dissected heart apart to show the detective the difference between the two valves. “She probably only had another year or two before that took her life.”

“Is this related to her current cause of death?” Simms asked with a clear impatience.

Ainsley swallowed. “No.” He turned back toward the body. “She didn’t drown,” he said. “I knew that as soon as I saw her throat.” Ainsley pointed to the woman’s neck. The wound, deep and most certainly the cause of death, was pink after the Thames had washed most of the blood away. “Again, done with a dull blade.” He snatched his magnifying glass from his tools and positioned it so Simms could see the tearing of the skin.

“She wasn’t pregnant and aside from the damage to her eye and a few healed bruises there’s no obvious sign of trauma. She was more or less well fed. Certainly not starving,” Ainsley explained.

Simms kept his eyes on the woman and didn’t look at Ainsley as he spoke.

“Do we know if she’s been reported missing?” Ainsley asked.

“No.”

“Have you looked at archived reports?”

Simms let out a quick breath and gestured to the body. “Can we just get this over with?”

It was then that Ainsley knew their relationship had a long way to go before it could be repaired. Previously they could converse openly, sharing information and offering observances—but no more. Simms seemed determined to keep Ainsley at arm’s length and pushed back anytime Ainsley tried to inch closer.

“I found a curious mark.” Ainsley went to the head and pulled back the woman’s hair. He handed the magnifying glass to Simms.

The detective put the brass-rimmed glass in front of him and leaned in.

“It’s a letter,” Ainsley said before Simms could say anything. “I think it’s the letter C.”

Immediately Simms replaced the magnifying glass on the counter and turned from the body.

“It’s a branding. A hot iron implement is warmed in coals—”

“A horseshoe.”

Ainsley froze. “Pardon?”

“It’s a horseshoe, not a C.”

Ainsley leaned in for a closer look as Simms spoke.

“If she were standing, the curve would be directed down and the opening of the horseshoe would be up. An upside down horseshoe allows all the luck to fall out.” Simms waited quietly as Ainsley looked.

“Is it Thaddeus then?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Simms said, returning his hands to his pockets. “Thank you very much, Dr. Ainsley. I’ll have her removed by one.”

“That’s all?” Ainsley called out as Simms marched the aisle to the double doors.

“Yes, that is all,” Simms said, turning to touch the brim of his hat. “Thank you, doctor.”

The door to the morgue swung back into place before Ainsley could say another word.

Simms’s behaviour seemed odd and left Ainsley dumbfounded as he stood next to the body. Why allow him to examine it if he didn’t wish to converse with him about the case?

He looked at the mark again, knowing it must be a mark of ownership, like the gangs in Whitechapel and Spitalfields. They all had their own mark identifying men in their ranks and those indebted to them. He imagined Thaddeus was no different. Ainsley had never seen any such mark on Julia, though that didn’t mean he hadn’t marked her in other ways. He wouldn’t have cause to mark her if she was willing to be with him, if they didn’t believe she would run away.

Ainsley closed his eyes, abolishing the thought that Julia had willingly become his wife.

It was then that Ainsley realized he still had the files Crawford had given him of the other women brought to the morgue in previous months. He couldn’t recall if any of the autopsies reported a similar mark, but he had only been looking at the main identifying features and hadn’t delved too deep into the reports themselves. They were safely stowed in his cabinet in the annex room and he would retrieve them later. For now, he needed to finish up, replace the woman’s organs, and stitch her together again.

 

At precisely one o’clock Cooper arrived, stone-faced and mission-bound. Another constable followed him as he marched down the centre aisle to the examination table. One gesture from Cooper sent the other constable to the woman’s feet while Cooper took position at her head.

“I just finished,” Ainsley said, as Cooper pulled the stained sheet up over the woman’s body. “She told me some pretty interesting things.”

The other constable went pale as he waited for Cooper’s signal to lift his end of the stretcher.

“Do the dead always give up their secrets, Dr. Ainsley?” Cooper asked, ill-amused.

“They cannot help themselves.”

The other constable laughed, but Cooper hardly flinched.

Ainsley watched as Cooper tucked the ends of the sheet between the body and the base of the stretcher, as one would tuck a sheet under a mattress. In just a few more seconds the body would be gone and so would Ainsley’s last connection with the case. It wasn’t enough to examine the bodies and pass on the information to Simms. Ainsley needed to piece the puzzle together. He needed to see how they all connected.

“Did Simms ask you to bring me anything?” Ainsley asked cautiously.

“Like what?”

“Some case files. I offered to look through the medical examiner notes.”

Cooper shrugged and walked past Ainsley back to his position at the head. “He never said anything to me.”

“I could really use them,” Ainsley pressed, even as the pair of officers signalled to each other to lift the stretcher up. “I can compare them to our files and let Simms know if I find connections.”

“You’ll have to speak directly with Simms,” Cooper said as they walked for the aisle. “I’m making a point to only take my orders from him from now on.” The constable raised a hardened gaze to Ainsley, in challenge, before pressing his body into the door and guiding the stretcher out of the morgue.

Ainsley followed them hurriedly down the hall to the double doors at the back of the hospital. “Cooper, I’m just trying to help.”

The police wagon had been waiting, the horses out front stomping on the cobbles and rocking the box compartment at the back. After balancing the stretcher bars on the back of the wagon, the assisting constable hopped up and was able to pull the body into the opening. Cooper slammed the back door shut after the constable jumped down.

“I just don’t understand—why would Simms let me perform the dissection if he didn’t intend for me to help?”

Cooper turned suddenly and pressed a finger into Ainsley’s chest. “Because he’s using you, old chap, to get what he needs and nothing more.”

Ainsley watched as the two men climbed up into the bench at the front of the wagon, snapping the reins slightly and clicking their tongues to urge the horses forward.

If what Cooper had said was true Ainsley was ashamed that he had fallen for it. He truly thought he was a contributing member of the pair again, as he and Simms had been before that horrid night. He felt his throat go dry at the memory and tried to banish it from his mind. The face of the man he killed remained burned in his retina, every once in a while flashing into his vision. It taunted him and teased him. He wasn’t sure how he would ever redeem his soul after what he’d done, but finding justice for these missing maids was a good enough start.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Ainsley turned to head back to the morgue but stopped suddenly when he saw Delilah standing next to the double doors. She smiled out one side of her mouth and held a very small pistol, a derringer, in her gloved hands.

Ainsley froze, and reactively raised his palms up.

“Hello, doctor,” she said, twirling a rather long silver necklace in her free hand. “My brother would like a word with you.” She jerked her head to the side, where a closed carriage waited under the shade of a large oak tree. The side door was popped open by a single leather gloved hand that quickly retreated into the darkness inside.

There was too much distance between them for him to charge her. She’d have more than enough opportunity to pull the trigger, and would probably do it gleefully, judging by the cheerful look on her face.

“Let me grab my coat,” he said, trying to walk past her and back into the building.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She stepped into the doorway to block his entry and pressed the end of the gun into his rib. Her slight frame pressed into him provocatively as the metal dug even further into his torso. “You are very handsome,” she said with a smile. “I would hate to make this an ugly encounter.”

He could feel the short barrel pressing deeper into his gut.

He nodded his willingness to go with her and allowed her to steer him toward the carriage. With her close behind him, he climbed the steps and noticed a man seated on the one bench. He wore a bowler hat and a dark green overcoat and matching vest over his white shirt. He flexed his gloved hands, pushing the seams into the tight spaces between his fingers as Ainsley climbed in and sat opposite him.

“Are you the brother?” Ainsley asked.

The man suppressed a smile, but his intimidating gaze didn’t falter.

When Delilah entered, she sat down with a jubilant bounce that rocked the carriage. “I told you I could do it on my own, Stanley,” she said, slipping the small firearm into her reticule. When she looked up from her bag, her happy demeanor soured. “You don’t look scared,” she said, glancing to Stanley on her right.

“Should I be?” Ainsley asked as Stanley pulled a pistol from an inside pocket and laid it on his knee, pointing the barrel at Ainsley. It took a great deal of effort for Ainsley to supress his fear. He carefully calculated each of his movements, knowing fear was the desired outcome. Fear is what controls a man.

While Delilah sulked, Stanley raised a fist to the ceiling and banged on the red velvet twice to alert the driver they were ready.

They made no effort to conceal where they were headed. Through the window Ainsley could plainly see the carriage was being led through the south London streets, past Waterloo Station and Blackfriars’ Bridge before turning down a narrow passage and into a wider courtyard. Ainsley could smell the thick sour yeast of the nearby brewery, churning out a fermented exhaust that permeated the already heavy air. The substantial gate at the courtyard entrance, caked with green paint and cracked intermittently, was already closed by the time the carriage came to a stop.

Delilah was the first to exit while Stanley motioned with the pistol for Ainsley to go before him.

Outside the carriage, Ainsley was granted a better view. The building was a large, three-storey red brick warehouse with black-framed windows, some boarded up with arched wooden panels. Dormer windows dotted the attic storey, matching the pattern of the windows below them. Delilah stood at the entrance of a breezeway, a passage that led from the courtyard to the main road.

“Come now,” Delilah beckoned him. “My brother has no patience.”

With one hand on her hip, she held the pendant of her silver necklace with her free hand as Ainsley passed.

Ainsley walked the length of the breezeway, noticing Chubb locks on each warehouse door they passed and then one door left wide open. Inside he could see a public house not yet opened for the evening’s business. A tall man stood at the counter hunched over a wide-paged book. When his gaze caught Ainsley’s he straightened his stance and hardened his expression.

Delilah stood halfway in the door. “Where is he?” she asked the barkeep.

“His usual place.”

Ainsley saw a smirk on the man’s face before he turned away. Delilah retraced her steps back into the courtyard. Stanley nudged Ainsley from behind. “Get on then,” he said.

Ainsley obliged. He wasn’t bound or restrained in any way. If he truly wanted to run he could, and could probably have made it to the other side of the yard before Stanley would think to raise his gun. There was something else to their method of security, something unseen. Out in the sunlight again, Ainsley scanned the yard but saw nothing except a young man tending the horses that had just brought them by carriage. Ainsley kept an eye on Delilah, who was already twenty paces ahead, while he scanned the windows. They were all devoid of life.

Delilah stopped at a set of stairs that led down and placed a hand on the top of the iron railing. “This is where our boys train,” she said, almost boastfully.

Tell him. Tell him. The whispers echoed and reverberated as they swirled around him. You can’t leave us.

And then movement caught Ainsley’s eye, forcing him to look up. By the time his vision focused the image was gone but Ainsley already recognized what he had seen. A girl hiding behind one of the dormer windows. He didn’t get a good enough look to formulate a description and for a second or two he thought perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him again.

“Is there a problem, doctor?” Delilah asked.

Ainsley shook his head. “No.”

She gestured to the stairs, inviting him to head down. At the bottom a set of double doors were propped open but he could see nothing beyond.

“After you, ma’am,” he said.

Delilah gave a half smile and a quick glance to Stanley behind him before hiking up her skirt and marching down the steps. On one of the stairs Ainsley thought he saw a pool of blood, caked on and melted into the stone of the steps.

Beyond the doors came the familiar sounds of the boxing ring, only instead of two fighters sparing in a centre ring there were countless shirtless men paired off and running training exercises. The familiar smell of sweat, old and new, met them at the door as they walked in. Ainsley scanned the dimly lit room, trying to pinpoint who exactly was Thaddeus. Eventually, he spotted a man in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and cigar in his hand. He was no older than Ainsley but he carried himself with as much authority and charm as any man Ainsley had seen in the House of Lords.

Delilah crossed the room, enjoying the stares and whistles she drew from the room full of men, perhaps even inviting the attention with a wider swing of her hips, and went straight for her brother. Ainsley held back at the door as she spoke.

“This is Dr. Ainsley, the man I was telling you about,” she said, turning to look Ainsley in the eye.

Thaddeus raised his cigar to his mouth as he looked Ainsley over.

“See? I told you I could get him here.” Delilah chuckled at her own cleverness. She reached into Thaddeus’s inside breast pocket and pulled out a palm-sized silver box. With a slim cigar in her slender fingers she slapped the metal case into her brother’s hand and turned from him. “He needed very little persuading.”

Ainsley watched as Thaddeus leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. Delilah shrugged as he pulled away and said nothing by way of a reply.

Thaddeus took a few steps, shortening the gap between them before he spoke. “Welcome,” he said, switching his cigar from one hand to the other. “I am honoured to meet the great Dr. Peter Ainsley. My name is Thaddeus. Thaddeus Calvin.”

The man’s smile looked natural enough, but Ainsley knew how men like him enjoyed putting on the show, as much as the fear they caused.

A man from the right fell into Ainsley, pulling them both to the ground. The man had a black eye and contusion to his cheekbone. He looked Ainsley in the face as he landed on top of him. “Tell Julia,” he said, in an almost inaudible whisper, “to pray for me.”

The man was pulled off him by Stanley, who swung him back toward his sparring partner. “I’m sorry, sir,” the boxer said. “Terribly sorry.”

Thaddeus appeared over Ainsley and offered an outstretched hand to help him to his feet. “I do apologize. It can be a madhouse in here, sometimes. Perhaps we should go talk in my office.”

As Ainsley was brought to his feet he looked to the man who had just tackled him, but was afraid to draw too much attention to the incident. It was clear he had been handed a message, but from who?

Moments later, Ainsley was being shown upstairs to a sizable room above the public house. Thaddeus led the way and gestured to a blue velvet conversation set, two armchairs and a sofa circling an oval table as he walked past.

“Please, have a seat.”

He headed straight for the table just beyond the sofa, where an assortment of liquor decanters was displayed on a glass tray. Beyond the sitting area was a platform only six inches above the rest of the room where a large, empty desk was placed.

“Care for a drink?” he asked.

Ainsley didn’t move from his spot behind the chair. Delilah came in the room, twirling her silver pendant in her hand. She perched herself on the arm of the opposite chair, a vantage point that allowed her to look at both Ainsley and her brother.

Thaddeus poured two drinks and walked toward Ainsley with one in each hand. He handed over one of the glasses. “This conversation would go much smoother if you would humour me and sit.”

Ainsley allowed him to slide the glass into his hand and only sat when Thaddeus himself returned to his seat at the sofa. Ainsley eyed the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled the vessel from side to side. It had been nearly a month since he had had a drink and now was not the time to cave in to the call.

“Well, go on,” Delilah pressed, puffing on her cigar and blowing the smoke into the air above her. “Ask him.”

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Thaddeus raised his gaze to Stanley, who stood just inside the door. Stanley gave a nod but didn’t move from his post.

“That will be all, Delilah,” Thaddeus said with a sigh. Delilah’s face hardened as she stood tall, clearly startled by her brother’s dismissal. She looked to Stanley and, perhaps seeing his resolve, decided not to press the issue. Thaddeus and Ainsley sat quietly as Delilah crossed the room, her footsteps punching her frustration down into the floorboards.

Thaddeus nodded to Stanley, who promptly closed the door as they left.

“Forgive her,” Thaddeus said. “My sister is easily excitable. She doesn’t know when to hold her tongue.” He leaned further back into the cushions of the sofa, crossing one leg over his knee. He took extra care to make himself comfortable while Ainsley sat near the edge of his seat, eyeing the enticing liquid in the crystal glass.

“So, Dr. Ainsley, what kind of doctor are you?” Thaddeus asked.

“A surgeon.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Is that so? I often am in need of a good surgeon.”

“I’m not looking for employment.”

“Then what are you looking for?” Thaddeus asked. His features were stern, as if steeling himself against anything Ainsley might say. His gaze did not unlock from Ainsley’s. For a long while, they sat refusing to break the stare, like two stags held in a standoff.

Eventually, Thaddeus reached into his pocket. Ainsley watched as he unfolded a piece of paper and tossed it onto the table between them. From his place across the table Ainsley could see the scribble of Jerry’s hand and the address Ainsley had begged him for the night before. It was then that Ainsley realized Delilah must have picked his pocket at the Yard that very morning and in front of a dozen officers no less. He worked hard to suppress a smile of amusement.

“You a boxer?” Thaddeus asked.

“At times.”

“Looking for some side action? A bout or two?”

Ainsley shook his head.

Thaddeus smiled and pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Then tell me why you would have a piece of paper with my address written on it in your breast pocket.” He licked his lips. “A breast pocket is reserved for items of great importance, are they not?” Thaddeus slid back into the comfort of the chair, and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. He looked so comfortable and unaffected by Ainsley’s presence. This was a man who was used to his own authority. “Why is my place of business so important to you?”

Ainsley placed his glass, the alcohol untouched, onto the table in front of him before he spoke. “I pulled a body of a young woman out of the river this morning—”

“Tragic.”

“—she bore a branded mark on the back of her neck,” Ainsley said, touching the spot with his finger.

“Is that so? You believe I am connected to a random woman found in the Thames?”

“I am looking into the deaths of a number of women. I was wondering if you knew anything about them.”

“I should say not. I like my women livelier than that.” Thaddeus smiled coyly and drew a long breath from his cigar.

Realizing the man was well-versed in the art of deception, Ainsley nodded. This was the man he had been desperate to track down, the one everyone warned him about. Despite the gun they pointed at him and the strongman who waited just beyond that door, it was clear Thaddeus was attempting to disarm him with charm, his preferred weapon.

“Is that all—?”

“What about a young woman named Julia?” Ainsley asked, raising his gaze to meet Thaddeus’ squarely. “Perhaps you know something about her.”

Thaddeus’ jaw tightened at the mention of his estranged wife. “I haven’t seen Julia for some time,” he said, his hardened demeanor softening somewhat. “I had thought she left London altogether.”

“She was reported missing two days ago. My investigation brought me to you.”

“You’re a surgeon with the Yard then?”

“Not directly.”

Thaddeus nodded his understanding before giving a nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, I haven’t seen her.”

After a long, self-reflective pause, Thaddeus lifted his glass and downed its contents in a single gulp. He stood suddenly and began walking to his desk.

“Did you know I used to work the canals in Skipley with my uncle?” He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged when Ainsley shook his head. “Our job was to lead the horses back and forth on the towpaths, bringing limestone from one point to the next.” Thaddeus stopped and looked to Ainsley. “Have you ever seen those horses?”

Ainsley thought it best not to answer.

“I was seven years old and they were enormous. Great beasts. Legs wider than my entire body. They absolutely terrified me.” He stopped at a hutch behind his desk and unlocked the middle cupboard.

Still uneasy, Ainsley watched intently, wondering what the man was up to.

Thaddeus pulled out a bottle of liquor and then locked the cupboard again. He smiled when he turned and found Ainsley looking at him. “I save my best for conversations such as this,” he said as he poured some in his glass. He walked toward Ainsley with the bottle in front of him. “Sherry?”

Ainsley shook his head and raised his hand to stop Thaddeus from giving him any.

He shrugged and returned to his seat. “You see, while the horses scared me as a young boy, it didn’t take me long to realize they were more scared of me than I was of them. Each Friday my uncle would stop the barge and buy a pie for our lunch at the bridge. He’d tie the horse to the tiniest wooden chair set against the tunnel wall.” He took a sip of his sherry and smiled at either the memory or the taste.

“Now that horse was so strong from leading heavy limestone barges all day that he could have easily ripped that leather strap free within seconds and trampled us both, but he didn’t.” He held his glass up and used his index finger to point to his temple. “The tether is in here, doctor,” he said with a smile. “We choose to be broken, or we choose to be free.”

Ainsley felt beads of sweat formulate on his forehead as Thaddeus spoke, waving his hands about, accentuating his points.

“My mother, my sister Delilah, shit, even Stanley out there, chose to be tethered,” he said, with a laugh. “But Julia”—the expression on his face soured as he raised his eyebrows—“she could never be broken no matter how hard I tried.”

Bile rose up into Ainsley’s throat as images of Thaddeus trying to break Julia took over his imagination. The thought of that man touching her with a loving hand had been harsh enough. Ainsley downed the contents of his glass while his free hand curled into a fist.

Thaddeus laughed and licked his lips. “You say little but that right there told me many things that I desired to know.”

“Where is she?” Ainsley’s words came out as a growl that he could not subdue.

His adversary seemed surprised by Ainsley’s question. “I told the truth when I said I haven’t seen her in almost a year,” he said raising his eyebrows. “I told you, she could not be tamed.” He leaned over the table to pour himself another drink and then raised the bottle toward Ainsley. “Another?”

Ainsley stood, agitated by Thaddeus’ couth attitude but also his own frantic state.

“Did she not tell you she was married?” Thaddeus teased. “I’m not surprised. She is a woman, after all. Cunning, and somewhat deluded.” Thaddeus stood then, choking the neck of the bottle of sherry as he walked back to the locked cupboard. “I had a feeling this might happen one day, that her mess would be mine to clean up.” He locked the cupboard and turned to face Ainsley. “Do you know what I do, doctor? I clean up other people’s messes. I get rid of bodies found in backyards. I don’t ask how they got there. I just clean up the mess. I find uses for useless people. I protect people from themselves—”

“You extort them.”

Thaddeus shrugged. “Semantics.” He reached down and opened the top drawer of his desk. “We all have secrets. Every single one of us.” He placed a pistol on the desktop, pulling his hand away and slipping it into his pocket.

Ainsley recognized it instantly as the G. & J. Deane pistol he himself had possessed months earlier, the very one he had on him the night he lost his mind. The room spun and then tilted on a diagonal, forcing Ainsley to close his eyes.

“I knew this would be difficult for you to see,” Thaddeus said. “You see, that night, I cleaned—”

“You’re lying,” Ainsley growled.

“Excuse me?”

“You cleaned up nothing. The club…my friends, protected me.”

Thaddeus clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No, no, my friend, it was me and my little army of soldiers. I couldn’t abide by a child killer any more than you could. I applaud your actions and only wished I had done it myself.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. There will always be others willing to do the dirty work.”

Ainsley felt bile itching up his throat.

“You owe me, Peter,” Thaddeus said, using Ainsley’s first name for the first time.

“I owe you nothing,” Ainsley snarled as he turned his head. He could not fathom being blackmailed into such a partnership, not when he suspected the man capable of murder.

Thaddeus wagged his finger at Ainsley as he rounded the desk. “I beg to differ,” he said, chuckling to himself. “I would think nothing of presenting this lovely piece to your dear Inspector Simms. I wonder how his conscience will force him to respond.”

Thaddeus sauntered toward Ainsley, unfastening the buttons at his sleeve and folding them up inch by inch. Before he could reach Ainsley’s chair, Ainsley stood up and met him eye to eye.

“Will he look the other way, you think?” Thaddeus asked, his face hardened and eyes focused. “Will Julia?”

Ainsley snatched him up by the collar and pulled him close. “What have you done to her?” he yelled.

“She’s dead, as far as I’m concerned, and I hope to God she stays that way, or I’ll kill her myself.” Thaddeus pushed up on Ainsley’s wrists before delivering a powerful uppercut to Ainsley’s stomach. Ainsley landed one hit to Thaddeus’s face before the office door swung open, bouncing off the wall from the force. Stanley charged in, another man close at his heels. They easily pulled Ainsley away from their employer and forced him to his knees in front of Thaddeus.

“I’ve given you fair warning, doctor,” Thaddeus said as he adjusted his jacket and collar. Then he appeared to reposition his gold ring, ensuring the widest part of the metal was faced outward, before ramming his fist into Ainsley’s jaw.

Ainsley fell to the floor and could hear the men shuffling their feet over the ringing in his ears. Blood welled up in his mouth so Ainsley spat it toward Thaddeus, catching his shoe and the hem of his trousers.

“Fuck! Get him out of here!”

The two men pulled Ainsley to his feet and guided him from the room. In the hall Delilah was walking toward the door when Ainsley was pushed to the stairs.

“What the devil?” she called as Stanley pushed her away.

Ainsley barely had enough time to get to his feet before Stanley struck him in the stomach. The force sent him backward, head over heels down the stairs. When Ainsley opened his eyes he realized they had taken him outside to the courtyard. As one man held Ainsley’s arms behind him, Stanley removed his jacket and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. Ainsley glanced up to the window and saw Thaddeus and Delilah standing at the glass, watching silently.

The first punch rocked him left, the second sent him right, and the third was delivered right to his gut.

Of all the hits Ainsley had endured through his life these were the easiest to bear. It was clear he had failed Julia. He had failed to gain enough trust so that she could tell him who was after her. And he had failed at protecting her from the monster of her nightmares. Ainsley welcomed the pain of each hit and hoped he’d black out soon so he’d never have to know when it was all over.