by Helen Cox
‘No, you haven’t. It’s just . . . life,’ Ayleen said with a sigh. ‘Whitby’s where I belong now. And there are much worse places to belong.’
‘You’re right about that. Lovely town. A personal favourite. Although, I did hear a bit of a disturbing rumour about the place the other day,’ said Kitt. ‘It left me a bit rattled.’
Ayleen seemed to cheer a little at Kitt’s comment. ‘Given it’s a gothic paradise, disturbing rumours come pretty much as standard in this town. Go on, surprise me. What is it this time? A ghost at the end of the pier?’
‘I wish it were that whimsical. It’s just hearsay, mind. I listen to this podcast about the occult. I’m a librarian by trade and there’s no subject that doesn’t fascinate me, but someone had commented on the forum about the Vampire Killer.’
Ayleen shuffled on the spot. ‘What did the comment say?’
‘That the places where the killer had struck all seemed to revolve around Whitby, geographically speaking.’
Ayleen went quiet for a moment before responding. ‘So, what are they saying, exactly? They think the killer has based themselves in Whitby for some reason?’
‘That was the thrust of the comment, although unless the killer already lived here I’m struggling to think what that reason might be. It’s a beautiful town and all that but I don’t think sunset aesthetics are necessarily the first thing on a serial killer’s mind.’
Ayleen pursed her lips and ran a hand over her face, thinking. She opened her mouth to speak but then, seemingly deciding against it, closed it just as quickly.
‘Is something wrong?’ said Kitt, looking Ayleen’s face up and down while trying to make sense of the odd expression that had fallen over it. The woman’s eyes had widened and every muscle in her body seemed to be tensed. For a second Kitt wondered if she was going to faint, she didn’t look too steady on her feet.
‘Ayleen . . .’
‘I think . . . the reason the killer’s targeting Whitby,’ she almost whispered. ‘I think the reason might be me.’
Eleven
Kitt stood stock-still for a moment, her mouth hanging open. Was Ayleen about to confess to some involvement in the murders? Had Ruby been right all along? Was it a witch they were hunting for?
‘What do you mean, exactly, that the reason might be you?’ Kitt said, at last finding the words to speak.
‘If she even looks like she’s plotting something just say the code word and I’ll be there in a flash to back you up,’ said Grace.
Kitt would have taken more comfort in Grace’s attempts at reassurance if they had chosen a code word that could be easily crowbarred into the conversation that was likely to follow. Kitt had suggested it should be ‘Sherlock’ after she learned from a quick skim of the opening pages of the biography she’d bought at Broomsticks, Black Cats and Books that Bram Stoker and Arthur Conan Doyle once attended the same school. She thought that might be the kind of fun fact she could bring up in a seemingly casual chat, given their location, and considering they had agreed to ask every potential suspect about the Creed of Count Dracula – what they knew about them and more importantly if they were affiliated with them in any way. This conversation, however, had not gone as planned.
‘I—I shouldn’t be talking about this with a customer,’ Ayleen said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ She tried to smile but Kitt could see it was a struggle for her to do so.
‘I don’t know what it is about me,’ said Kitt. ‘But I’m just one of those people that others meet and feel like they can tell me things. Maybe it’s because I’m a librarian and spend quite a bit of my time listening to people so I can help them better. Whatever the reason, I don’t mind a bit when people confide. So why don’t you tell me? It’s obvious something is bothering you. I can tell by the look on your face and I’d hate to leave here knowing you were struggling with something when I might have been able to set your mind at ease.’
Ayleen hesitated again, clearly still not quite convinced. Somehow, Kitt needed to show her that she assumed her to be in some kind of trouble, rather than the one causing it. Perhaps then she would let something slip.
‘You know, I was mixed up in a murder case once. It was a serial killer too,’ Kitt said.
‘Mixed up how?’ Ayleen said.
‘My best friend was accused of murder. I was implicated and it was one of the most frightening ordeals of my life but in the end both of our names were cleared because we cooperated with the police and didn’t withhold any information. If you know something, however small, about what’s going on I would encourage you to step forward. Keeping important information to yourself only makes the police more suspicious of you, rather than focusing their energies on catching the true criminal. Take it from someone who knows.’
Ayleen slumped down onto a stool behind her counter and put her head in her hands. ‘I didn’t want to believe it was true. Maybe it isn’t but it seems like too much of a coincidence.’
‘What’s a coincidence?’ Kitt pressed.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Ayleen said, raising her head again to look at Kitt. ‘But the thing is, I—I knew two of the victims who died.’
‘Oh boy, that can’t be good,’ said Grace.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Kitt said, wondering if that could possibly be a coincidence or whether this was the starting point for a deeper confession. She thought back to her investigative training. She needed to handle this carefully. Make sure all of her questions were open and she didn’t interrupt. Getting Ayleen into a state of conversational flow was the most likely way of finding out everything she needed to. ‘Which of the victims did you know?’
‘The first victim, Anna Hayes, and the third victim, Alix Yang.’
‘Were you close to them?’
‘No, no, I just did their tattoos.’
‘Were they regulars?’
‘I only did one tattoo apiece, but they were both definitely customers here.’
‘I wonder why the police didn’t pick up that connection when they looked at the victims’ records, you’d think they’d be looking for all possible leads in a case like this,’ said Kitt.
‘Both of them had their tattoos done a long time ago now, so maybe they didn’t look that far back.’
‘How long ago are we talking?’
‘Anna’s tattoo was four years ago. Alix’s was six years ago. Right away, I knew I recognized Anna for some reason when I saw her photograph online. I went back through my records, hoping to prove myself wrong. It’s all digital now but in the first five years or so of opening the shop I couldn’t afford to computerize everything so I kept all the details of what colours and designs I’d used for each customer in a card index alphabetized by name. And I found her in there. Later, when Alix was killed, and I saw her photograph on the news, I had that same feeling. Again, I went back to the records and there she was.’
‘But you didn’t know the second victim?’
Ayleen shook her head. ‘When the first killing happened I thought it was just a terrible thing that befell one of my customers, you know? And then that older man died and I didn’t know him. But I just knew I’d done a tattoo for Alix. My blood ran cold when I saw her face, even colder when I found the file in the back office. After that, I checked for the name of the second victim in the files too, but I hadn’t recognized him and his name wasn’t there.’
‘What about the latest target in York? What’s her name? Ruby something, I think that’s what the news said. Do you know her?’ Kitt said, doing her best to sound as though she wasn’t that up on the case, or in any way connected with the killer’s next victim even though Ruby’s neighbours had been talking to the press at every opportunity about the ‘devilish woman who lives at number thirty-three’.
‘I didn’t recognize her from the photo I saw online,’ said Ayleen.
‘Well, then, surely it’s likely to
be a coincidence? A horrible coincidence for you, but a coincidence nonetheless,’ said Kitt.
‘Unless she’s working with an accomplice and they take turns in picking out the victims,’ said Grace, a thought that Kitt had just been pondering herself.
‘Maybe not,’ said Ayleen. ‘When I was quite young my . . . my parents died and there’s a whole chunk of my childhood I don’t remember. What if I came into contact with those people then and don’t recall? Maybe I’m connected to them and don’t even realize it.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear about you losing your parents so young. I imagine that could affect a person’s memory so I suppose it’s possible that you crossed paths with some people you now can’t recall,’ said Kitt. ‘But why would a killer like this target you? It looks like you’ve got some occult interests, judging by your decorations, but it feels like for you to be at the centre of it all, there would need to be more to it than that.’
‘You’re right, I am a practising witch, but I don’t think that’s why the killer might be after me.’ Ayleen paused then and took a long, deep breath. Kitt watched her closely and noticed her eyes flitting this way and that in a manner that made it seem as though she was making a calculation or perhaps weighing something up. ‘A long time ago,’ she said at last, ‘I did something very foolish. I got mixed up with some people based in Sandersdale. It was sort of a . . . cult.’
‘Sounds a bit scary,’ said Kitt, while wondering how to ask for more information without arousing Ayleen’s suspicions. ‘Did it have a scary name?’
‘Not really, or, at least, I didn’t think so when I first heard of them. It was called the Children of Silvanus.’
‘Silvanus,’ Kitt repeated. ‘Silvanus . . . isn’t he a Roman god?’
Ayleen nodded. ‘From what I understand he’s sort of a protector. The name was supposed to make us feel safe, and I suppose it did, at first.’
‘But then when you joined up, that changed?’
‘It’s difficult to explain. The leader of the group, he was charismatic, he could, I think, convince anyone of anything.’
‘What was his name?’
Ayleen crossed her arms and looked Kitt up and down. ‘Why?’
Kitt shrugged in as nonchalant manner as she could manage just then. ‘I was just wondering if I’d heard of him, especially given I now live in Sandersdale.’
‘Justin Palmer was his name – ring any bells?’
‘No, I’ve not heard of him,’ Kitt said.
‘He and the other core members of the group purchased some old farmland out in the dales – they were based about twenty miles from where I used to live with my parents. Palmer had established rules that were designed to encourage obedience and fear in the group. It was his way of controlling us. Emotional manipulation was rife.’
‘Did the abuse stop at an emotional level?’
‘There were some physical altercations. Nothing sexual though, which I suppose is one small mercy. Palmer had a few mistresses, I think, but I was never one of them and it always seemed to me that they wanted to be with him. Looking back, like, that was probably all achieved through persuasion and manipulation too. Like everything else there.’
‘How terrible that you got mixed up in something like that.’
Ayleen shrugged. ‘I was young, still hadn’t really dealt properly with the death of my parents and was lost. I’d been bouncing around foster parents for seven years by that point. Thanks to the internet, the more insidious among us were able to prey on the lost a lot more easily. I ran away from my foster parents and joined the group with little thought or hesitation and then found there was no easy way out.’
‘How did you get away?’
‘For a very long time, I didn’t. When I finally escaped I found out I’d been there for six years. It had felt like for ever. One day, I discovered why time felt different there. Why everyone was more obedient than they might have been otherwise. It wasn’t just Palmer’s charisma. They were putting something in our food.’
‘That must have been a shock,’ said Kitt. ‘What was it?’
‘I never found out. But they had people they called godfathers and godmothers who oversaw the day-to-day running of the camp. I saw them mixing it into soups and stews. One of the rules of the camp was that you had to finish all food that was put in front of you. So I started to find ways of getting rid of it without our godmother noticing. After a few days I started to really sober up and realize what was going on. That was when I started to plan my escape.’
‘As you’re here, telling this story, I’m assuming you did manage it but from what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like an easy community to break out of.’
‘It took some planning. The commune was in the middle of nowhere,’ said Ayleen. ‘I hoarded food in a backpack, nothing liquid, only solids so I could be sure it wasn’t contaminated. I stole the thickest blanket I could find and crept out one night. The blanket was to throw over the barbed wire at the top of the gate so I could climb over it.’
‘Smart girl,’ Kitt said with a sympathetic smile.
‘Not smart enough. Still got scratched to hell. But I didn’t care about that. All I was interested in was making it out of there. As soon as I was over the fence, I hiked as quickly as I could to a road I’d been watching in the distance and managed to hitch a ride just as the sun was rising.’
Kitt paused for a moment before speaking, wondering why Ayleen wouldn’t move further away from Sandersdale after her ordeal. Yes, it was a three-hour drive to the tip of Sandersdale from Whitby but that wasn’t exactly difficult ground to cover if you wanted to find someone. Still, that was a question they could perhaps try and answer at another time. Right now, Kitt had to focus on the basics before Ayleen ran out of goodwill towards her. ‘How come the police didn’t come and shut the place down? People must have had some idea about what was happening.’
‘Only people who were part of the cult were allowed in or out so there weren’t any witnesses to what went on there. Once or twice the police visited after reports from locals who suspected some worrying behaviour but that’s the thing, when you have real control over people, they’ll swear to anything.’
‘So you all told the police that you were part of a happy community,’ said Kitt, shaking her head.
‘Exactly. Plus the Children of Silvanus were self-sufficient when it came to food. It was one of the ways they made sure people didn’t need to go in or out. There was a water supply and some livestock. So we were trained to say that we were a self-sufficient community family, farming off the land and living in peace. I’d rather not go into all the ins and outs of what went on there, but suffice to say that was only part of the story.’
‘By the sound of things, it wasn’t a particularly peaceful existence,’ said Kitt.
‘No, not everyone was as susceptible as they would have liked to what they were putting in the food, and they were taken away to be punished. The threat of punishment was always at the back of your mind.’
‘What an ordeal,’ said Kitt. ‘I’m so sorry you lived through all that. It sounds terrifying. I would certainly have been terrified in your position. But what does it have to do with the Vampire Killer? Are you saying you think the killer is perhaps the leader of the cult? This Justin Palmer, coming after you because you escaped?’
‘I don’t know. It’s been a decade since I escaped. I changed my name after that and lay low for several years. I didn’t even have a website for this place until about two years ago. I haven’t dared look into them online since I left in case I clicked on something and they were able to trace it back to me, but I think Palmer is probably dead by now. He was old back then. Long grey hair, had that wizened look about him, you know? I don’t even know if the Children of Silvanus are still in operation. Probably not. At least not under the same name or the same leader. But the killer could be one of the people Palme
r manipulated. Someone who was loyal to him and believed him to be their protector. He might have made them promise to go after anyone who escaped.’
‘You’ve lived through an exceedingly frightening experience. And what you’re saying isn’t impossible but why wouldn’t someone like that just come after you directly rather than target people you vaguely knew?’
‘Like I said, the Children of Silvanus ran on manipulation. It’s possible that they just want to scare the hell out of me before they strike. And truth be told, I have been scared. I managed to talk myself into the idea that I was just being paranoid but if what you say is right and the killer is based somewhere in the Whitby area, then it could be that they’ve come for me at last.’
‘And instead of going at you directly, they’ve decided to torture you first with the idea that even after hiding for all these years you can’t escape them, by picking off people in the periphery of your life, people who, in some cases, you don’t even remember your connection to,’ Kitt said with a nod. ‘I take it you haven’t told the police about this?’
‘I came close more than once. I even dialled and hung up. But it could be a complete waste of their time. The delusions of a woman driven mad by years of paranoia and looking over her shoulder. I don’t want to distract from their investigation when they have so little time between the marks appearing and the killing taking place.’
‘What if it’s not a distraction at all? What if you could save the life of the next victim?’ said Kitt. ‘I think when it comes to this case, the police will want to hear about every possible lead. If there’s even a chance your actions could save someone, isn’t it worth giving it a go?’
‘I know you’re right,’ said Ayleen. ‘But I’m . . . I’m also scared about what might happen if I go to the police.’