On The Hunt Read online

  On The Hunt

  The Travelers, Book One

  TL Reeve

  Michele Ryan

  After Glows Publishing

  On The Hunt

  © Copyright 2017 TL Reeve and Michele Ryan

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  Published by After Glows Publishing

  PO Box 224

  Middleburg, FL 32050

  AfterGlowsPublishing.com

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  Cover by AM Creations

  Formatting by AG Formatting

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  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Contents

  On The Hunt

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About TL Reeve

  About Michele Ryan

  Note from the Publisher

  On The Hunt

  Julian Rienhard and Theodore Graham are in over their heads with their team mate, Piper. The intelligent woman drives them insane, while also challenging them scientifically. Julian realizes there is something different about their relationship, and he’s willing to accept it, as long as his best friend Theo does as well. But the stubborn, aggravating woman doesn’t know the meaning of wait.

  Piper Thomas is tired of waiting. Half in love with her three team mates, she isn’t sure how to approach them, feeling the constant need to prove herself. So, when the White Chapel case is given to the team, she takes matters into her own hands and goes in search of the infamous killer, Jack the Ripper.

  Heath Jacobs, their resident crime writer, hits them with the worst news possible with an article dated for the same day Piper returned to the heart of London. Piper is dead. Now, it’s a race against the clock to find her and stop her death.

  Will they be able to get to her in time and confess their attraction for her, or will Theo follow in his father’s footsteps and be too late?

  Prologue

  Another White Chapel Horror: November 10th, 1888

  At 10:45 a.m. on the 10th day of November, Mr. John McCarthy sent his assistant, better known as Indian Harry, to the apartment on 13 Mills Court for unpaid rent. Upon arrival, the body of a deceased woman was found. When journalists were finally able to speak with Mr. McCarthy, he stated: “The sight that we saw I cannot drive away from my mind.” McCarthy later told a journalist, “It looked more like the work of a devil than of a man. I had heard a great deal about the Whitechapel murders, but I declare to God, I had never expected to see such a sight as this. The whole scene is more than I can describe. I hope I may never see such a sight as this again.”

  The woman has been, five and a half feet tall, blue eyes, red hair— curly, and the condition of her remains were not given to the journalist at the time. However, if we go by what Mr. McCarthy has stated, what remains of her body, maybe a pittance for sure.

  The bold newspaper headline and short article had Heath Jacob’s stomach knotting. Two days prior, Piper Thomas had packed up her things and used the amulet to travel back in time, hellbent on finding the real Jack the Ripper suspect. As she packed her things, he, Julian, and Theo begged her to wait for them to finish up their last job, but she’d grown impatient.

  Six months they’d worked together, and they hadn’t formed a rhythm yet on how this whole thing worked. And, by whole thing, he meant Homeland Securities Travelers program, who’d been able to channel the amulet’s abilities to fold space and time. They’d had three jobs so far, and each mission had been a failure. Whether it was a calculation problem or they’d been one step behind the person they were searching for, they were still getting their time travel legs under them.

  Heath, on the other hand, didn’t fully understand his position within the group. Sure, he had a string of bestselling crime novels under his belt, but he dealt in fiction, not reality. If they wanted someone who had absolute knowledge, they should have turned to Philip Carlo or Ann Rule. Yet, instead of walking away, he kept at his job. Every day he read the crime reports preserved on microfiche. Picked up the archived ledgers from different periods through time to check death and birth records, and in the evening, when he was alone, he chronicled everything they did.

  In the beginning, he did it so they’d have a written document, preserving their adventures, to one day look back at everything they accomplished. Now, he wondered if perhaps he was destined to tell the world about their raucous escapades since no one would ever know about their jobs or what it meant to travel through time and space to save the world—cheesy as it sounded.

  He scrubbed his palm over his scruff covered cheek as he continued to read the article, hoping for a little more information to be sure it wasn’t Piper. The rest of the piece, however, recalled the other murders perpetrated by this Jack the Ripper.

  “It’s not a man; I’m telling you guys. You have no idea what a woman is capable of when a man cheats on her, several times.”

  Piper’s words floated through his mind as he scrolled to the bottom of the article. What if she’d been telling the truth? What if a woman had committed the murders? Why would she have gone after their colleague? He scanned the paper for the following day for the name of the resident of the apartment where the body had been found. Mary Kelly. A picture revealed she’d been almost the spitting image of Piper, which did nothing to settle the anxious energy rolling through him.

  No one had seen Mary. However, they had no way of finding Piper either unless they traveled back in time to meet her.

  “There is a scarf. Two types of blood are on it. I believe one is the victim’s and the other is our suspect’s. If you don’t want to go with me to help prove I’m right, I’ll do it on my own.”

  She hadn’t given them a choice really. Nor did she give them time to think it over and formulate a plan. Now, who knew where she was or if she still lived.

  “Any news?” Theodore—Theo to his friends, clapped him on the shoulder, as he came up behind Heath.

  “Yeah, nothing good.” He flipped the fiche back to where the events from the day before unfolded and allowed his partner and friend to read the story.

  “Son of a bitch.” His body tensed behind Heath’s. “Do we have any record of Piper being anywhere near that apartment?”

  “No. She was looking for a scarf, I believe from scene number four. Which isn’t far from the ghastly murder.” Which would be considered location number five.

  “So, what are you saying?” The tight tone of Theo’s voice spoke volumes about his affections for Piper. Since they’d been brought together, Julian and Theo had danced around their attraction for the only female member of their team. He too would be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge his own feelings.

  “I’m saying, for now, she’s l
ost.” The knot in his stomach grew tighter. Saying out loud what his worst fear might be, made him physically sick. They knew the risks of this job—Theo most of all, but to be helpless when a member of their team needed them most sucked. Now you know how your characters feel when you write them into an angst-ridden scene.

  Yeah, well, he’d figure out how to make it up to his crime fighting trio later, for now, they had to focus on finding Piper and bringing her home.

  “Call Julian. Have him meet me here in two hours. We’re going to have to go back a day earlier than Piper and be set up for her when she arrives. We can’t lose her.” No, they couldn’t. Somehow, through all the rough patches, and there were plenty, she was the glue that kept them together.

  “On it.” He opened his mouth to ask if he could tag along on this case but caught himself before the words tumbled out. No sense in being seen as desperate. “Use the London Pneumatic Dispatch System to send me updates.”

  For years, the Smithsonian, along with the Library of Congress and the British Museum in London, worked together to preserve 19th-century telegrams for historical and contextual reasons. The Pneumatic Dispatch was the premier invention of sending information across London and was considered cosmopolitan at the time. Those who were viewed as aristocrats used it more than common folk, but it also helped with shipping materials and sending small packages across the city in no time flat.

  Since they worked inside the museum, a special section had been acquired for them to view documents sent through time. Whether it was dug up, telegram, mail, or e-mail, where there was a will, there was a way to get him updates.

  “We will.” Theo headed for the door. “We’ll be leaving in two hours.”

  He nodded as he picked up his phone. “I’ll let Julian know.”

  “Oh, and another thing.” Theo came to a stop, his hand poised on the handle. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll find her, and we’ll bring her home.”

  The phone rang twice before Julian answered, and Theo left the room. “It’s Heath. We have a problem. Piper’s in danger.”

  Chapter 1

  White Chapel, England: November 9th, 1888

  Piper adjusted the skirt on her dress and groaned. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of trousers right about now. It would give her the ability to move without tripping over the yards of material covering her body. She stuck her finger into the collar of her bodice and tugged, grimacing as she pulled the abrasive fabric away from her neck.

  Why am I doing this again?

  From the time she’d been a little girl and saw her first special on Jack the Ripper, she’d been hooked. She had so many unanswered questions, and this major unsolved case had been the reason she went into forensic pathology. She loved her job. Broke some of the most unbreakable cases. However, before DHS came to her, the job began to lose its luster. Rapes, murders, missing people, sometimes the dregs of life could drag her down into a darkness she’d not been prepared for.

  When Homeland Security came to her, she jumped at the chance. Solving unsolved mysteries got her heart pumping and sent her mind racing. There were literally thousands of different cases she could work on with her new team and never get bored, and never return to the pit of despair she’d been in.

  However, the work, though fun, wasn’t easy. Even when she’d been spot on with her assessments for the three prior cases, they hadn’t been able to implement their methods effectively. For weeks, she poured over everything, trying to figure out what went wrong. Then their superiors brought her the Ripper case, for one more chance to get it right.

  She dove in with both hands, greedy for the information, reading the case file multiple times, examined the evidence and dissected the testimonials of the witnesses—which was why she stood on the corner of Miller’s Court staring at a ramshackle apartment building.

  In one of the overlooked reports, a scarf was said to have been found on Commercial Street, not even a stone’s throw from the tenement where Mary Kelly lived. According to one of the incomplete evidence reports, there were two samples retrieved from the article of clothing. One matched Mary, and the other had come back as not being hers. The technology, though new, had done its job. Unfortunately, from the time the White Chapel police took it into their custody to 2017, it’d been lost. One hundred and thirty plus years is a long time to be caring for evidence.

  Her only hope had been to use the amulet, find the scarf, and run her own DNA tests. At least with the examinations she could perform, she could narrow the search down and at least solve the biggest part of the mystery—was the Ripper male or female? In the long run, she also hoped to present the name of the killer as well.

  In her estimation, the suspect was female. The era might be different, but some things stayed the same. If a woman didn’t know a man, she didn’t willingly accept his invitation to go anywhere with him. These women, in her evaluations, knew their killer. Were probably friends with this person and never thought they’d be next. When she took possession of the case, she’d practically wore a hole in her floor as she paced while going over different scenarios of how these attacks and subsequent deaths took place.

  Her opinion didn’t sit well with most theorists. In fact, the community was so sure the Ripper was a man, they denounced a 2006 study deducing the killer’s identity. Dr. Ian Findley did a series of DNA tests from the swabs used on the envelopes supposedly sent by the Ripper. In his writings, he traced the DNA back to Mary Pearcey, a woman convicted of killing of her husband’s mistress.

  When she presented this evidence to Heath and Theo, they’d told her to wait. They wanted to go over it step-by-step and make sure she had all her T’s crossed and I’s dotted. Julian had his own issues with her decisions. He assessed she’d been too close to the case and perhaps before she made the choice to go back in time, she should wait.

  Fat chance.

  She knew what she had to do, and now, standing in the shadows, waiting for everything to unfold in front of her, she knew she made the right decision—minus the ridiculous clothes.

  As the sun slipped below the horizon, the tone of the street traffic changed. Ladies of the night stood on street corners, while unsavory characters roamed the roads waiting for some unsuspecting drunkard to pickpocket. The smells were overwhelming. Between the scent of human waste and the smell of food cooking, she didn’t know if she wanted to gag on it all or feel hungry.

  Instead of thinking about her stomach, she focused on her research. No one had seen Mary Kelly return with her suitor for the evening, nor had they heard any screams. The fact no one heard her cry for help also corroborated with Dr. Ian Findley’s assessments. Mary knew her killer. Probably trusted them too. Piper pulled her timepiece from the bodice pocket and sighed. Only six p.m. Maybe she should have waited for the guys after all.

  “Aren’t you a beauty.” A grimy looking man appeared at the mouth of the alley. His port-belly and dirt-covered, scruffy cheeks turned her stomach. Add in the body odor mixed with the sour stench of alcohol, and she shuddered in disgust.

  “Sorry. No thank you.” She dismissed him with a shift of her body.

  “A woman alone is always available.” He reached for her as he took a step forward.

  “And, I said no,” she snapped, retreating into the shadows.

  “Give us a kiss.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him. Up close and personal, the stench of feces and vomit permeated the air. Her gut churned, and her head spun as the noxious fumes emanating from his mouth coated her in a sickly vapor blanket.

  Her stomach clenched. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in. She had to save Mary and figure out who the killer is while saving herself.

  You can’t stop Mary’s death. You’re only here to get the scarf and solve the crime.

  “I bet you’re a spirited lass.” He mauled her, grabbing her breast while fumbling with her skirt.

  Piper reacted. She forced her elbow into his gut and stepped on his instep with the heel of her boot. “I said no.”<
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  The drunk man bellowed, stumbling backward into the street. People strolling down the lane grew curious and started to approach, which sent her back into the shadows. She had to get out of there, the consequence of a stupid man thinking he could have his way with her could expose her. She turned away from the people who stared at her with rapt attention. Shit. Why me? Why can’t I have an easy case, just once? This little scene on the street would hamper her investigation. Even if she didn’t want to leave, she had to. Hopefully, the Metropolitan Police wouldn’t bother with a drunk, and she wouldn’t miss her opportunity at catching a killer.

  “Piper!” Theodore Graham stepped into the unremarkable house on an unremarkable street in London. When DHS came to them, the agencies working with them around the world had set up living arrangements for them. The houses were plain. Most looked like they hadn’t been inhabited for years, others were small shacks that shouldn’t hold a door let alone a high-tech lab. But, the house they chose would be perfect for them. They started below the house and built upwards, leaving the majority of the home above ground untouched.

  Electricity was a new invention in the late 1800’s and not very reliable. They used a small generator. An annex room built beside the lab housed the generator and was vented through a pipe that traveled back up to ground level. No one would ever think anything of it. Unfortunately, they were only allowed to use the computers and machinery they needed for a few hours a day. However, the work they’d completed during the short amount of time, offset the rustic conditions.