Chapter 4 – Another Body
The next morning, the fog had barely lifted when the news spread across Whitechapel.
Another body had been found.
Thomas Hale heard the shouting before he even opened the newspaper.
Newsboys ran through the streets waving fresh papers above their heads.
"Another murder in Whitechapel!"
"Second woman found dead!"
Thomas grabbed a copy quickly and unfolded it as he walked down the street.
The headline was even larger than the day before.
SECOND BRUTAL MURDER SHOCKS THE EAST END
Thomas stopped walking.
His heart sank.
He read the article quickly.
The victim had been discovered only a few streets away from Buck's Row. The body was found just before dawn by a market porter heading to work. Like the first victim, the woman had been attacked in a dark alley.
The description of the wounds was short, but the meaning was clear.
It was the same killer.
Thomas folded the paper slowly.
This was no longer just one terrible crime.
It was something worse.
A pattern.
An hour later, Thomas arrived at the new crime scene.
A small crowd had gathered behind a police barrier. People whispered nervously while officers tried to keep them back.
Thomas slipped through the crowd and approached a familiar face.
Constable Briggs.
The officer looked tired.
"Morning again, Mr. Hale," Briggs muttered.
Thomas glanced down the narrow alley.
"Another one?"
Briggs nodded grimly.
"Yes."
Thomas lowered his voice.
"Same kind of wounds?"
Briggs hesitated.
Then he nodded again.
Thomas felt a cold chill spread through his chest.
"Which means it's the same man."
"That's what the inspectors believe."
Thomas looked toward the dark entrance of the alley.
"Did anyone see him?"
"No witnesses."
"Nothing at all?"
Briggs sighed.
"Whitechapel is full of shadows. Men can vanish here faster than smoke."
Thomas opened his notebook.
"What about the victim?"
"Her name was Annie Chapman," Briggs replied.
Thomas wrote the name carefully.
Another life lost.
Another woman who had lived and died in the forgotten corners of London.
The crowd behind them murmured quietly. Fear had begun to creep into the voices of the people watching.
This was no longer just gossip.
It was terror.
Later that afternoon, Thomas returned to the newsroom of the London Herald.
Editor Mercer was waiting for him.
The older man looked up from his desk as Thomas entered.
"Well?" Mercer asked.
Thomas placed the newspaper on the desk.
"There's been another murder."
Mercer frowned.
"I've already heard."
Thomas leaned forward.
"It's the same killer."
Mercer studied him carefully.
"You're certain?"
"The wounds are identical."
Mercer stood slowly.
"That changes things."
"Yes," Thomas replied quietly.
Mercer walked toward the window and stared out at the busy street below.
"For years, Whitechapel has been full of crime," he said.
"But this…"
He turned back toward Thomas.
"This is something different."
Thomas nodded.
"A serial killer."
The word hung heavily in the room.
Mercer picked up his cigar but didn't light it.
"If this continues," he said slowly, "the entire city will panic."
Thomas closed his notebook.
"Then we need to find him before that happens."
Mercer looked directly at him.
"Then start digging deeper, Hale."
That night, the fog returned once again.
And somewhere in the dark streets of Whitechapel…
the killer was already searching for his next victim.