own conclusions, with or without comment from Jackson Crow. But then Jackson and Angela Hawkins did have an edge over the rest of the team. Jackson had been an agent for years before becoming head of their team; Angela had been a cop in Virginia. She, on the other hand, had been sought out because she’d refused to doctor film that she’d taken of an actual ghost—because it hadn’t been doctored to begin with! And Adam Harrison, who had put them all together, had been fascinated with her abilities with film and video, and her background, perhaps. However, after they had proved themselves with the Holloway case, they’d all received training, and she was confident in the training she’d received.
However, a man like Jude Crosby would consider her too inexperienced and too young and maybe even, eventually, too emotional; maybe she was, in a way. A way that she hoped stood her well. Emotions came along with instinct and intuition, and she and the team relied heavily on intuition. When she watched Captain Tyler, she was still somehow convinced of his innocence. The man’s hands shook, perhaps due to Parkinson’s or something, but she was certain that he wasn’t on drugs. She wasn’t sure what she expected; she had never conducted an in-office police interview. The only interviews like this that she’d ever seen had been on television. But Jude was never rude to the man. There were none of the softly spoken questions followed by yelled accusations or hands beating on the table that she had seen on television shows. He just asked Captain Michael Tyler to remember everything about the night and his meeting with Virginia Rockford.
He grew very serious, though, leaning forward as he asked, “Captain Tyler, after Miss Rockford passed by you, what did you do? What did you see? She must have been murdered right after she passed you. If you saw or heard anything else, we need to know.”
Whitney was surprised when Tyler paused like a man who did have something to contribute. He shivered—or trembled—and then shook his head.
“I’m not always … right. You know, I mean … in the head. I hear explosions when they’re not happening. I see … I see enemy faces in a crowd. I’m not always—right.”
“That’s okay. I understand. But anything you saw or heard or thought that you saw or heard will help me. Anything.”
“A man,” Captain Tyler said.
“What did this man look like? Did you see him with Miss Rockford?” Jude asked.
Tyler shook his head and closed his eyes. He seemed to be in pain. “I’m not sure he was real. He seemed tall in the night, but it might have been his hat. He wore a tall hat. And—and a cloak. And he was carrying something. A bag. Like …”
“Like a backpack?” Jude pressed.
“No. Like an old doctor’s bag,” Tyler said.
Jude sat back a moment, and then asked, “Did you see the man with Ginger Rockford?”
Tyler said, “No. I saw him under the street lamp. I saw him from a distance—he was down Broadway when the young woman was telling me I was a junkie. I’ve never been a junkie. I didn’t see his face, but I did see that he looked strange—as if he didn’t belong there. As if he had … stepped out of the mist from some other time.” He winced again, and gripped his trembling hands together. “I told you—I go to the hospital now and then, but … when I’m on the street, I see things.”
Jude nodded. “Thank you. Captain Tyler, can you still write?”
“Yes.”
Jude passed him a legal pad. “Please, write down everything that you thought you saw. We deeply appreciate your help.”
Tyler looked at the pad and held the pencil awkwardly for a moment, and then started writing. Jude waited patiently with him, and then excused himself while Tyler set about finishing his task.
Jude entered the small chamber where Whitney stood with Green.
“He’s not our killer,” Jude said.
“No,” Green agreed. “From my experience, this man wouldn’t be capable.”
“You’ve introduced yourselves, I presume?” Jude asked. “Deputy Chief Nathaniel Green, Whitney Tremont.”
“We’ve met, thank you,” the deputy chief said. “What do you think about the man he saw? Sounds like the image of the Ripper. Do you think that the media is going to cause everyone out there to start seeing men in stovepipe hats and cloaks, carrying medical bags, around the city?”
“Probably,” Jude said wearily. “But I still wanted to talk to Captain Tyler myself. We believed that he was in the area, and so it was important to know what he had to say. He’s not the killer. From what he’s said, it’s looking more possible that we do have a psycho out there who wants to be the new Jack the Ripper.”
“Ellis Sayer called in right before I joined Miss Tremont. He’s talked to Angus Avery, the director on the film Miss Rockford was working on at the site. He’s arranged to meet you at the old diner up in Soho … He should be here in the next half hour.”
The deputy chief nodded. “Sayer also told me that you’ve set up a meeting with the task force in the morning—let’s hope it’s a quiet night.”
“Let’s hope. We have anything from Forensics?”
“We will soon.”
Jude started out of the room, and then paused. “Sir, do you think we could get someone to—”
“I’ll get an officer to see if we can get Captain Tyler into a shelter for the night. He may refuse our help, but I’ll offer what we can,” Green said.
Jude nodded. He sighed, as if he’d forgotten to pick up a brick he had to carry around his neck.
“Agent Tremont?”
“Sir,” Whitney said to Green. It was nice to meet you or it was a pleasure just seemed wrong under the circumstances.
“Good to have you here, Agent Tremont,” Green told her, and she thanked him.
Once again, she had to hurry to catch up with Jude. He was already moving through the building.
She realized quickly that he didn’t intend to ditch her—brick around his neck or no, he’d been given his orders regarding her federal involvement along with the rest of the team, and as long as she didn’t get in his way, she’d be fine. He simply assumed that she’d follow at his speed.
And so she kept up. She was at the passenger’s side of his car again before he could open the driver’s side.
She buckled in silently. As they pulled out into traffic again, she realized that he glanced at her.
“You heard him, of course.”
“Captain Tyler?”
“Yes.”
“Of course. I hear very well, Detective. Young ears, you know.”
She thought that he almost grinned. “I’m not sure exactly what insights the specialty of your team might provide, but I don’t believe that the ghost of Jack the Ripper has come to murder people in New York City.”
“I
