Angels

by Jay Gill

  Nobody ever told him what Amanda had said when, once again, she’d found her parents in the middle of a blazing row. It would have been smart or witty; she was always so smart. Whatever it was earned her a punch from her father.

  ‘Smart-mouthed little bitch. Just like your fuckin’ mother.’ The punch knocked her sideways and Michael heard a sickening thwump as she smacked her head against the foot of the stairs, and then silence. The calm before the storm.

  It was the silence before his mother’s screams that he remembered most, even now. Something was terribly wrong. The silence told him so. He was used to the noise when his parents were together, but not the silence.

  He flew down the stairs and knelt beside his sister. Mum and Dad were simply staring. Dad was all jokey about it.

  ‘Come on, angel. I’m sorry. Get up. Sorry, sweetheart. I just lost it for a second.’

  Blood began pooling beside Amanda’s head. It was coming out too fast. The puddle of dark, rich fluid was growing and growing, right before his eyes. Michael stared at his parents.

  ‘Do something!’ he screamed.

  For what seemed like forever, they simply stared back at him. Then Mum became hysterical.

  Her piercing screams shook him to the core. Each one felt like a knife puncturing his skin and jarring against his bones. His body began to tremble uncontrollably.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The room smelled of furniture polish and bleach. He held his aching head. It felt like a boiling pot with its lid sealed tight, swelling and threatening to blow.

  Cutler needed some release. Whether it was Melanie’s infidelity that was getting to him, or the sheer intensity of the repeating nightmares, he wasn’t sure.

  Things were changing for him. Until recently he’d always played safe. The trouble was, he’d enjoyed hunting little Peter ‘Rabbit’ Rice, and though he realised it had been a mistake, one that might eventually catch up with him, he was keen to experiment a little more.

  He’d left home early and would be staying at a Premier Inn for the night. Tomorrow he would visit a Cassley Shoes store situated within an out-of-town retail park. He’d spent the afternoon and evening getting ready. He’d had some new customer questionnaires printed up and was looking forward to using them. All completed questionnaires got entered into a draw, and head office had agreed a grand prize of £250, to be spent in store.

  It was the questions he was most pleased with. Scrap that: it was actually the section requesting personal details he was most pleased with. He hoped it would help him build a database for the future and save time. The usual bullshit questions were there: How often do you shop at Cassley Shoes? Would you recommend Cassley Shoes to a friend? Then, sandwiched among Age, Sex, Relationship status, Children, Name, Home address, Email, and Contact telephone number (so we can contact the winners) he’d slipped in another line before going to press: Number of people living in household. These six seemingly innocent words would help him sift the wheat from the chaff. He was probably breaking all sorts of data protection laws, but that was a problem for head office, not him.

  Tomorrow he’d urge staff to get shoppers filling out questionnaires, and he’d collect them in a couple of weeks. From now on, prospecting would be easy.

  Tonight, however, he wanted to celebrate, if for no other reason than to let off some of that pent-up energy. For the first time in his life he felt empowered. He felt sure it had started the day he had taken care of Peter Rice. It made him feel as though nothing could any longer stand in his way. If he wanted something, he would simply reach out and take it. Quite by accident, Peter had caused him to step outside his comfort zone and now there was no going back. There had been spontaneity in the way he’d dealt with Peter, and having successfully dealt with him, he felt a kind of invincibility. Peter had been a pivotal moment, and since that moment Cutler’s mind had been working overtime on the question of what else he could take.

  Watch out, world. Michael Cutler is a new man.

  It was almost 1 a.m. when he parked the blue Mondeo beside some unlit garages. He pulled on his police jacket and sergeant’s hat. With a quick walk and a bit of a run he was only a few hundred yards behind a young blonde he’d spotted while cruising around. From what he could tell, she had a great body; her tiny skirt showed off her wonderful curvy figure. He watched as she leaned against a garden wall and pulled off her high heels to rub her feet. She was wobbling and finding it difficult to remain upright. This gave him his chance to catch up with her and offer assistance, just like a genuinely concerned officer of the law.

  ‘Evening, miss. Is everything okay?’

  ‘Officer – you startled me. Yes. Just these damned shoes are killing my feet.’

  He was close and could smell alcohol. ‘I see. It’s quite late for a young woman to be out by herself. Have you got far to go?’

  ‘Young woman?’ she started laughing. ‘It’s my birthday. I’m celebrating my birthday. Twenty-one! Woohoo!’ She was swaying more now and waving her shoes in the air. ‘I’m a little drunk, or, as a police officer might say “a little intoxicated”.’ She stood straight and saluted him.

  ‘Indeed. Well, congratulations, miss. Happy birthday.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. It was important to remain friendly and keep his performance both professional and convincing.

  Her expression turned sour. ‘Congratulations on getting dumped on your birthday, more like. My bastard boyfriend dumped me on my birthday. What a great guy he turned out to be.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. A pretty girl like you won’t find it hard to find someone new.’

  ‘Are you flirting with me, Officer? I bet you’re married. Let me see your hand.’

  Before he could object, she grabbed his hand and examined it.

  ‘There – I knew it. You are married. You’re a naughty boy. Naughty! I saw you looking at my tits.’ She closed one eye and tried to focus on him. ‘I’m Tina, you naughty policeman.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Tina. I’m Sergeant Lamb. Would you like me to call you a taxi?’

  ‘Baaaa, Sergeant Lamb. I don’t need a taxi. I’ve only got to go round the little corner. I’m definitely drunk but I can definitely walk.’ Tina started to sing quietly to herself as they walked together. ‘Sergeant Lamb is a naughty boy, naughty boy, naughty boy. Sergeant Lamb is a naught boy, baa-baa, baa-baa, baa.’

  Cutler smiled to himself and thought, Tina, you have no idea.

  ‘Not much further now,’ said Tina. She started rooting around in her purse for her front door key.

  ‘Would you like me to help?’ It would make it easier, he realised, if he went to the front door with her and opened it.

  ‘I’m okay. It’s somewhere here.’ She shook her purse, dropping her phone in the process.

  ‘Is anyone at home to make sure you’re going to be okay?’ Cutler crouched down and picked up the phone.

  ‘I threw him out, that bastard.’

  ‘So there’s no one else?’ Cutler’s cold eyes watched her response.

  ‘No, I’m all alone, you cheeky Lamb, you.’ Tina found the key and looked Cutler up and down. He looked somehow different. No longer friendly. ‘He might be inside. He will be inside. If he’s not, then the girls I share with will be.’ Tina was suddenly acutely aware of her vulnerability and was trying to force herself to appear sober.

  Cutler looked at the house, which was dark; not a single light was on. He smiled at her. ‘It’s always nice to know there is someone waiting for you when you get home.’ Tina’s hand began to shake uncontrollably. ‘Would you like me help with the key, Tina?’

  Tina swallowed and, without looking back, ran up the steps to the front door. She dropped her shoes as she struggled with the key. He could hear her whimpering as he got up close. As the key slid into the lock Cutler pushed open the door and Tina fell inside. As Cutler shut the door behind them, Tina crawled on her hands and knees along the hallway. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at the monster she’d let into her
home.

  In the darkness she could hear his heavy breathing, and then came his monotone voice. ‘We’re going to play a new game. I’ve not played it before, Tina. I’ve played other games but not the sort you and I are going to play. You’re the first.’

  He followed her as she continued to crawl, too scared to stop. Not even for the few seconds it would take to get to her feet.

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Tina. It’s going to hurt. But if you do as I say and I’ve enjoyed you, then I’ll let you live. I promise.’

  Tina pushed open the kitchen door at the end of the hall and moonlight flooded in.

  Cutler looked down on her. Still on her hands and knees, she looked incredible. She looked how he’d imagined. He grabbed her ankle, yanked it back and flipped her over.

  The scalpel glinted in the moonlight. That got her attention. ‘Are you going to do as I say?’

  Tina didn’t need to say anything; he could see all he needed to in her wide eyes.

  ‘Good. You know, I don’t think we need the bedroom. Right here will do just fine.’ Cutler knelt down and gently caressed Tina’s neck.

  ‘Shall we begin?’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  There were things on the to-do list, but aren’t there always? He was sat in the car park finishing his Starbucks coffee and almond croissant. On the way over from the hotel that morning he’d caught himself singing along to ‘Sex on Fire’ by Kings of Leon. Singing along to the radio was something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

  As he entered the back of the store, he felt a spring in his step. This was the new and improved Michael Cutler. Cutler the Unstoppable. Cutler the Great. Cutler the Magnificent.

  The knot in his chest that he’d carried with him for years had gone. There would be no more hiding from who he was. Nothing was beyond his reach anymore. For all these years he’d been burying his true nature deep down in a dark place. It had made him weak. Today, he finally felt released into the light. From now on, once he’d decided on what he wanted he would just reach out and take it. From now on, he’d hide from nothing and no one. He was free. And it felt good.

  He used to listen to motivational speakers in the car as he drove from store to store. It had to be said they were all pretty much peddling the same wisdom. Each one would just dress it up differently, but essentially, they were all putting fresh lipstick on the old pig, as they say. Right now, he kept hearing the same line over and over in his head: “Whether you say you can or you you can’t, you’re right.” Something along those lines, anyway. That didn’t sound quite right, but it was close enough.

  Inside, he could feel he was becoming who he was meant to be. He no longer felt scared or lacking in confidence; for once in his life he was happy. He knew who he was and he understood his place in the world.

  He tapped the six-digit key code and entered through the back of the store. He put the remainder of his coffee on the desk then put his briefcase down. He fired up the PC in the storeroom and printed off the sales figures. When he heard voices from the front of the store, he guessed the staff had started to arrive. He looked up and smiled, expecting whoever it was to eventually make their way to the back of the store. They didn’t.

  From his seat at the desk, he peered through the shelving and listened as two young sales assistants, who he recognised as Tim Friar and Chelsea Randall, took off their coats and hung them up.

  ‘Creepy Cutler’s in today,’ said Tim. ‘I think he’s got the hots for you.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid and don’t be mean. He’s all right. I don’t know why you have a problem with him.’

  ‘You’re joking, right? He’s a freak.’ Tim pulled a face.

  ‘You just don’t like him because you never get the sales bonus.’

  ‘I don’t get the bonus because I don’t give a shit about this crappy job.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I’m telling you, that guy could rape you with those eyes of his.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Tim. That’s disgusting. He’s always been really sweet.’

  ‘There you go – that’s why he’s nice to you. You’re so naive. I’ve heard stuff about him. He was almost fired a few years back for stalking some girl. That was when he lived up north. Then he got transferred down south.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘No, it’s true. Ask anyone.’ Tim was enjoying scaring her.

  ‘He’s married. He’s got kids.’

  ‘And? Nutters usually are married. It’s how they cover it all up. They need to look like a regular family man, so no one will suspect. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Okay, that’s enough. You’re scaring me and you can’t go round saying stuff like that. It’s not nice.’

  ‘Why? I swear it’s true.’

  ‘You just can’t say stuff like that. And you don’t know for sure. I know what you’re like. You’re just making it up.’

  ‘Stay close to me and I’ll protect you.’ Tim pulled Chelsea close and gave her a squeeze.

  She giggled. ‘So that’s your game. Get your hands off me. We’re at work.’ Cutler listened as the two of them kissed. ‘Okay, that’s enough. Somebody might come in,’ said Chelsea pushing him away. ‘I said get off, Tim. You’re such an idiot. You’ll get us both fired.’

  ‘Later, then?’

  ‘Yes, later. You wait here for a second. I’m going back in the store.’

  Cutler watched Tim through the shelving as he hovered by the coats for a bit, then, rather than go back into the store, he went through to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Cutler followed him.

  Tim was eating a biscuit while tapping the top of the sugar tin with a teaspoon, like he was playing the drums. Cutler silently closed the kitchen door and moved in close beside him.

  ‘Good morning, Tim.’

  ‘God – Christ. Bloody hell, you scared the shit out of me,’ said Tim, dropping the spoon into the sink with a clatter. ‘I nearly choked on my biscuit.’

  ‘You know, Tim, spreading rumours and lies can be dangerous. I once read that in medieval Europe a liar’s mouth would be forced open with a special device, and then grippers would be attached to the tongue. Once a firm hold was established, the tongue would be slowly ripped out. Can you imagine the pain? Nasty.’

  Tim tried to look innocent. ‘I guess that would do the trick,’ he said, attempting a joking tone. ‘Mind you, you can’t believe everything you read. Coffee?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you, Tim. I just wanted to catch you alone. So I could say good morning.’ Swift as a panther, Cutler grabbed Tim’s throat and stepped close. He could smell Tim’s cheap body spray. ‘And one last thing, Timmy-Boy.’ Cutler squeezed hard, his fingers pinching deep into Tim’s windpipe. ‘If I ever hear you’ve so much as mentioned my name again, I will pull your fucking tongue out. I will rip that sucker clean out of your dumb fucking skull. That is something you can believe.’

  Cutler heard footsteps. He released Tim, then turned and walked away.

  Tim fell against the worktop, held his throat and gasped for air.

  As Cutler left the kitchen, he passed Chelsea, who’d come back to find her boyfriend.

  ‘Good morning, Chelsea,’ said Cutler with a wink. Loud enough for Tim to hear, he added. ‘Tim’s been at the chocolate digestives again. A piece went down the wrong way, but luckily I was on hand to offer assistance. Could’ve been nasty.

  ‘Anyway, he’ll live, so long as he takes my advice.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Vaughan held Becky’s, hand. It was soft, cold and feather light. His daughter was eight years old and should have been out in the sunshine playing with friends, having sleepovers, watching movies, being cheeky and laughing.

  He remembered the summer, she must have been four or five, when he was on leave and they’d spent every day together. He was fixing up the house and she was his little helper. They’d really bonded that summer.

  Every day she’d get the paintbrushes and the rollers ready an
d together they’d painted the walls, then rubbed down and repainted the woodwork. She was so small she couldn’t reach much higher than his chest height with the roller, so from time to time he’d lift her so she could reach the top of the wall. Either that or he’d hold her while she stood on the stepladder. Sometimes she’d let him, but most of the time she’d insisted on doing it herself. Right from that early age she was strong willed and knew her own mind.

  Becky opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled, and she smiled back.

  ‘Hello baby,’ he said softly. ‘You’ve been sleeping. Can I get you anything? Would you like some water?’

  ‘No, thank you, Daddy. I’m fine. I saw you smiling. What were you thinking about?’

  ‘I was just remembering you helping me decorate this house. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, that was fun. Except when you got paint in my hair.’

  ‘Did I? Wow, you’ve got a good memory.’

  ‘Yes. I told Mummy it was an accident and that you didn’t mean to do it.’

  They both laughed, and he savoured the moment before the sadness crept up inside him again. He kept smiling and squeezed Becky’s hand. Inside, the injustice coursed through him like a raging fire. He had to fight back the crushing thoughts of her lying in bed in this darkened room, day after day.

  Fiona came into the room with tea. ‘I heard you two laughing,’ she said. ‘What are you up to? I hope you’re not planning mischief.’

  ‘Not us,’ said Vaughan. He winked at Becky and they both smiled a secret smile. ‘I’ve got to pop out for a while, sweetheart. I’ll be back as quick as I can, pinky-promise.’ Vaughan wiggled his little finger and Becky wiggled hers. He kissed her on both cheeks and the forehead and blew kisses as he left.

  Fiona followed him to the car. ‘I know you don’t want to hear it, but we have to decide what we do next. She’s getting weaker and sleeping more and more. I think it’s time she went back to the hospital.’