Chapter 28

While the rest of the team continued to pound the pavement of Whitechapel, Aaron and Vicky volunteered to go through the paperwork supplied to them by the local police documenting each of the nearly one hundred suspects they took seriously. There were a few hundred more that were dismissed, and while Aaron was a bit apprehensive of taking anyone’s word for it, he did trust the members of their own team who also worked for the police department to make accurate recommendations.
The job was simple at this point; look at each suspect and add medical practitioners to a narrowed list which the team would then more closely examine. However, as Aaron and Vicky began to go through the pile of documentation, they realized the task wouldn’t be as simple as first imagined. Some of the suspects had no career noted or the information was so incomplete, it wasn’t clear whether or not they could potentially have a background involving some sort of medical experience.
Letting out a sigh, Vicky shook her head and said, “We need a list for ‘unknown’ or ‘not sure,’” she said, grasping a document in each hand. “This one says he was currently employed as a ‘worker,’ and this one says, ‘unable or unwilling to articulate his profession’.”
“I agree,” Aaron nodded. “Set those in a separate pile, and we’ll jot them down independently.”
They were sitting across from each other at Aaron’s desk, the daylight long since faded, and Aaron was glad his eyesight had improved since he Transformed or else he might not be able to read some of the handwriting in the dimly lit room.
“Oh, this is helpful,” Vicky went on, holding a sheet up close to her face as she read. “’Place of employment? Yes.’ Really, what are they thinking when they write this out?”
Trying not to laugh at her frustration, Aaron said, “I think the police are probably just as overwhelmed as we are, perhaps more so. With so many officers collecting data from dozens of people each day, tips coming in, ridiculous responses to newspaper articles, we’re bound to get some inaccurate or incomplete information.”
“Hmmm,” Vicky nodded, either considering his remark or contemplating the next sheet. After a few moments of silence as they both continued with the documentation, she asked, “What about butchers?”
The thought had occurred to him as well, although Ward said Dr. Joplin thought it was highly unlikely that a typical meat cutter could make the same sort of precise incisions the Ripper had displayed on a few of his victims. Still, it would potentially save time later if they went ahead and made a list of butchers now in case it was needed later. “List number three,” Aaron nodded.
After several hours, they cleared through the pile and began to write the three lists, a task that took them into the morning light, and when they had finished, they had a list of eight medical professionals, six butchers, and ten “others” they needed to research more to verify they did not belong on either of the two previous lists.
“Well, that took longer than I expected,” Aaron said, stretching.
“You tired?” the blonde asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tired before.”
“No,” he assured her. “Just not used to sitting for so long.”
Vicky nodded. “Are you sure it’s not me? I hear I have a reputation for causing stiffness in men.”
Aaron’s eyes widened, and he felt the heat rising to his face. He was used to off-color jokes from the male members of their team, but he couldn’t remember ever hearing Vicky, or any other lady, make such a comment.
“Oh, lighten up,” she insisted, readjusting in her seat. “It was meant to be a joke.”
“Yes, quite humorous,” he agreed. “I’ll laugh later. When I’m by myself.”
She pursed her lips together and shook her head. “I guess that must not be the only thing you do when you’re by yourself?”
“Pardon?” Aaron asked, unable to believe her brashness.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just… I’ve known you for thirty years now, Aaron. Thirty. And I’ve asked you to join me for dozens of meals, done my best to draw your attention, even showed you my ankles, and while every other male I come into contact is more than willing to get to know me better, you insist on disinterest. I see the way that you look at me, though. I know you find me fetching. Why? Why won’t you even explore the possibility that we could be more than just colleagues?”
He wasn’t sure if it was the early hour or the intimacy of the setting that brought her to this, but he was taken aback by her forwardness. “Vicky, I honestly don’t know what to say,” he began, leaning back in his chair.
She sighed. “I apologize if I’m making you uncomfortable. I don’t want it to be that way. I’m just… frustrated. You’re so much more attractive than any other man I’ve ever known. Stop blushing; it’s true. You’re intelligent and kind. And despite my attempts to distance myself from you, I keep finding myself falling under your spell.”
He was blushing, her accolades making him feel uneasy. It had been too long since he’d been in the company of a complimentary woman. “Vicky, thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from a beautiful woman, especially coming from you—someone I both admire and respect. It’s just… I’m married. I promised myself to one woman years ago, and I’ve no intention of going back on that promise.”
“Aaron, I don’t know what happened to her,” Vicky began, leaning forward and speaking in a quiet, calm voice, “but she’s gone. It’s been nearly half a century. Don’t you think it’s time to find someone else to share your life with?”
“She may be gone, but that doesn’t make my promise to her any less real,” Aaron insisted, absently twisting the ring that encircled his finger. “I’ve resolved to keep myself only unto her, as I promised on our wedding day.”
Vicky slowly shook her head. “I appreciate your conviction, my friend. But do you think that’s honestly what she would want for you? To continue on this path alone?”
While he still spent hours each day thinking of Aislyn, remembering her soft skin, her warm lips, the way her body felt beneath his hands, he had never truly asked himself what she may want for him, now that she was gone. He now knew that his Aislyn had left him the day she had fallen victim to the Vampire, that the body he’d driven the stake through no longer occupied the soul of the woman he loved. Would she hold him responsible for her demise? After all, he had promised her on many occasions that he would keep her safe, a vow he had failed to keep.
Earlier in his career, it had been quite easy to ignore the women who showed interest in him. He was so focused on learning, bettering his skills, and missing the woman he loved and their child, he didn’t have time to pay attention to anyone else. Now, forty years after his journey began, he was more aware of the women who flashed him coy smiles or gently touched his arm. He was particularly aware of Vicky, a fine woman if there ever was one. Here she was before him, offering her heart, and for the first time, he was actually contemplating the possibility of weakening his resolve to stay true to his marriage vows.
The prospect seemed even more complicated than the mountain of paperwork they’d just sorted through, and he realized now was not the time to make a brash decision. “I understand your perspective,” he finally managed to respond, “but… it’s too soon.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it, a sign that she was compelled to argue that four decades was plenty of time, but not to him. Time had little meaning now that it was endless, and in the larger picture, forty years may as well have been forty days. He missed his Aislyn more than he could express.
“All right then,” Vicky said. “I suppose it is pointless to invite you to breakfast then.” He offered her a weak smile, a clear declination, and she stood. “Well, I’m starving. I’ll be back in a few hours for the meeting.”
“Very well,” he replied, watching her walk to the door.
With her hand resting on the doorknob, she turned and said, “Think about what I’ve said, Aaron. Regardless of what you think you’ve done, you deserve to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”
Before he could formulate a response, she was gone, leaving the stacks of papers on his desk, a diversion from her remarks if nothing more. But as he began to arrange the documents so that he could return them to Ward, he couldn’t help but to reflect on her statements, subconsciously. How would Aislyn feel if he were to move on? Was it even something he wanted to consider? Could he ever find another woman to make him even half as happy as he had been with his redheaded beauty? He didn’t think it was possible, but somewhere, deep inside, he began to hope he might find out.