Page 91 of The Ripper

“Well, it’s just a theory because none of them are alive to be interrogated, but I don’t think they were stalking her; I think they were protecting her, and you pissed off whoever hired them.”

“How did you come to that conclusion, kid? They were ten steps behind her at all times.”

“Yeah, and you were ten steps behind them, and they never made any moves to approach her.”

As I listened to him talk, it made more and more sense. How they didn’t display typical stalker behavior, how they never took pictures of her or tried to accidentally bump into her, how they didn’t seem obsessed with her, but rather too serious, too focused, too fucking on alert at all times.

“Shit!” I punched my leg, lighting another cigarette as I looked at the hospital doors, feeling just about ready to pull out my hair.

I hung up, feeling like I was only getting answers that only raised more questions. She had changed her name, she had something to hide.

Those guys weren’t stalkers.

~ Like you.

They were bodyguards.

~ And you killed them.

Arella didn’t know about their existence.

~ Or maybe she did know.

~ Maybe you shouldn’t trust her so much.

~ Maybe she was strategically placed in your path.

~ How was she, of all people, your sister’s roommate?

~ Maybe you walked right into her trap.

~ Why isn’t she afraid of who you are?

~ Why doesn’t she flinch when you talk about murder?

~ Maybe she wants to slit your throat when you’re asleep.

~ She speaks Russian, Grimm. Why does she speak Russian?

~ Maybe she’s a spy.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I punched the dashboard so hard my skin burst open.

Blood shot out of my split knuckles, but the pain didn’t help anymore. Fuck, nothing helped.

None of the shit going through my head could be true. Even if I was blinded by my feelings for her, my father would have noticed something, but all he told me was that she was innocent. He dealt with spies often, with rats and undercover agents, everything of the sort. He would have told me if she gave him any signs.

He said she was hiding something.

But I knew that as well.

I looked at my watch and saw she still had two hours until the end of her shift, so I decided to trample the trust she had in me and drive to her apartment, where I was going to turn every floorboard upside down until I found something. Anything.

If there was something, no matter how small, that she kept from her previous life, it had to be there. Maybe that’s why she reacted like that when I told her I moved her things.

I tore apart her mattress, flipped the pillows inside out, knocked on every inch of wall and floor, looking for hidden cabinets, searched every nook and cranny and found… nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

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