Read Online The Killing of Emma Gross by Damien Seaman - Free Book Online

cry, didn't complain. I strangled her when we got here.'
    'Where?' I said.
    Kürten pointed to the wall up ahead. He had to do it two-handed, thanks to the cuffs. A painted sign on the wall read 'Haniel & Lueg GmbH'. So, a business premises of some kind. A factory, judging by the brick smokestacks.
    We stepped over weeds and loose bits of builder's rubble until we were close enough to touch the crumbling wall plaster and see the smoke.
    'Where were you pointing?'
    'Down there in the shadows.' He pointed again, and then I saw what he was pointing at. Any doubts I'd ever had about his being the Ripper, well, they evaporated pretty damn quickly.
    The body lay atop a pile of bricks, hard up against the factory wall. A thick patch of nettles covered it and weeds clung to the wall. A soft spring breeze blew across the open meadows between the factory and the woods and tugged at the girl's green coat as though willing her to get up and live again. One of her buckled shoes had come loose but it was the smallness of her that got to me. My legs gave and I fell to my knees, the shovel I'd been carrying hanging heavy in my hand.
    The man at my side drew back, his baby blues full of indignation rather than fear. No, not fear, never fear, not for this one.
    'Tell them to stay back!' he commanded.
    I turned. The Schupo cordon behind us closed in, bullet hoses held chest high. Of course, from where they'd been standing they couldn't see what I could. I used the shovel to push myself up and waved at the Schupo to keep their distance. It was enough. They shrank back to the edge of the meadow. It was just me and the Ripper, the Ripper and me, for this part of the proceedings. Kürten's blond hair had dried and paled and knotted in the breeze. It was the only real hint of untidiness in his appearance since his arrest. Ever the dapper man about town. He was talking, presumably to me, though I caught only some of his words:
    'She was so trusting. Put her arms round my neck when I carried her. Told me all about her family. I wish...sometimes, I wish...'
    The girl – Gertrude, her name was Gertrude damn it, and I wasn't going to depersonalise her in death – lay on her front. Although the coat covered her, her bottom was poking into the air and her legs were parted. Five years old, and this man – this excuse of a man justifying himself to me – hadn't just killed her, he'd raped her first.
    My heart gave a tug. I thought of my own darling Lilli, snuggling safe and loved in a warm cot, face shining with the happiness she'd never had the chance to know. Prickling salt water stung my eyes. My stomach muscles cramped up so tightly that I had to double up, and I flung a hand across my belly to try and soothe away the pain.
    My knuckles were white where I gripped the shovel's handle. I imagined sinking its blade into Kürten's face, cracking open his skull and releasing the evil that dwelt within. Maybe then the pain would go away.
    The Ripper smiled at me. 'You want to kill me,' he said. It wasn't a question.
    I said nothing. What could I say? The wind cooled the tear tracks on my cheeks and ruffled the bandage on my face.
    Finally, I cleared my throat. 'She's not buried,' I said, nodding at the shovel. 'Why did you tell me to bring this?'
    'You'll see.' The Ripper's smile deepened as he crooked a finger and beckoned me to follow him still further into hell.
    'Wait!' I called.
    He stopped and turned back, a puzzled look on his face. I made it to my feet and handed him the shovel.
    'Not yet,' I told him.
    I knelt beside the girl's body and reached for my satchel. Which wasn't there, of course. Curse Ritter, I'd still not got it back. Of course, my rubber gloves and powder had been inside. I didn't want to contaminate the body but I was first officer on the scene. Duty decreed I file a report on this. I flexed my fingers and gritted my teeth against the stabbing in my gut.
    'Do you still have your handkerchief?' I asked Kürten.
    He fumbled at his