The phone began ringing. The box vibrating on the boards. Charlie hesitated, then leaned forward, answering it.
I see you’ve found my hideaway!
You’re sick, Charlie said. Deranged. Mad.
All compliments. Thank you.
But how? How could you have—
You can thank me.
Excuse me?
You can thank me, I said. Ethan grunted. I’ve taken care of Davidson for you. For us. He’s been nagging at me for some time. So I’ve sorted it.
What are you talking about? Charlie asked. You killed him?
No, Ethan laughed. God no. I have more class than that Charlie. No I’ve made him probably wish he was dead though. I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon enough. That business with the phone was for you really. Just another string.
Charlie was looking around the small area. How could you possibly know I’m here?
Oh Charlie, Ethan said. Point the torch forward. See the reflection there? A little camera. Hello. You can’t see me, but I’m waving. Charlie hopped over the boxes and kicked the camera off of it’s mount. Stomped it until it broke. Well that was to be expected, Ethan said. Nevertheless. How did you like my letter?
You’re a bastard. Why’re you doing this to me? Why kill all these women? Living in my roof, reading my case files, watching my family? What are you? Charlie became lost of words.
Oh you know Charlie. Even if you pretend not to. You do.
But this is sick. This revenge you’re doing. Forcing me to go along with. How can—
If you’re so confident in that, Ethan said. Hand your old files over. Tell the police. Show them this area. Like I said, it’ll solve a lot of problems for them. But it won’t necessarily do much for you. Now, that is not why I called—
Why should I listen to anything you have to say? Charlie said. It wasn’t bravery speaking now, it was total terror. He wanted it to stop. To end.
Because Charlie, tonight you’re going to meet your sister’s killer. The man responsible for the way she was made.
What? Charlie said, disbelief. He’s alive?
Of course. Well, not for much longer, Ethan said, a slight laugh. But yes. He has been alive and well. Spent his life doing just as bad a work. Destroying lives and doing well for himself. Of course we are robbed of half the revenge, his partner died of cancer years ago. He was in hospital. Suffered a case of asphyxiation by pillow in the middle of the night during a freak power out. Tragic.
Charlie spun around, still looking around the space for any sign of someone having been there other than the bed. What about wrappers? Waste? Anything. He sat there, the terror flooding into him.
So what it is it? Do you want to meet this man?
Without even hesitating Charlie responded, Yes.
Good. Get out of that roof and I’ll tell you, Ethan said.
Charlie almost fell down the ladder in his haste to get down. He’d decided to take the torch with him, thinking it might come in handy at some point. But it had been that which had caught on the door frame that made him stumble.
A minute later in the kitchen he received another call, Ethan relayed a set of instructions to him. Leave from the backdoor. Follow the alleyway. The last bin on the right has a set of car keys under the lid. The keys are for a green sedan, four down on your left out of the alley. Once in the car, follow the map to the point. It should take you twenty minutes to get there.
And if you don’t arrive in the timeframe I’m allowing, Ethan said. If I think you’re running off, or trying to save your wife and kids. I will kill them before you can get there. You don’t know where they are. I do. If you try to contact them, I will kill them. Do everything I tell you Charlie, and you’ll live a little longer knowing that they’re alive.
But how do I know you’re not going to hurt them anyway, Charlie asked.
You don’t, Ethan replied. But that’s why you have to play. But if you want another piece of information to regale yourself. Out past the range. At the corner of Precinct and Rains. She won’t see again. You remember that don’t you? He hung up.
Charlie froze in the kitchen. The few lines that had been responsible for his sister being found coming right back to him. He took a photo from it’s broken frame and scribbled it down.
A few minutes later he sat in the small car. Started it and drove along slowly with the lights off. Then turning onto a main street he turned the lights on, looked at the map and began heading in the direction that was marked. Ethan was taking him out of the city, over the hills and into the back country. The bush. Past the range.
Charlie pulled onto the dirt road, the final turn on the map. The twenty minutes to get out here had been nerve wracking. He wasn’t sure what was real and were the hallucinations he kept seeing. Sarah by his side. Sarah at the bus stop. Crossing the street when he was at the lights. His eyes kept becoming heavy whenever he stopped.
But he’d arrived, and now here, by his gaughe he had to drive along now for about three kilometres. Wheat reaching up to the nightsky on either side of him. He rolled along slowly, eyes scanning left and right. Just as he was wondering if anything was here, his lights lit up the destination. A small wooden shed built at the end of a row. He rolled to a stop at the shed, his lights on the door.
An old transformer cabin, built by the power networks long ago. Long abandoned since the power plant built further up the peninsula forced the cable to change their course. The area had been cleared approximately thirty yards all around it. Just sandy soil and rocks.
He turned the car off. Still staring at the door.
He was in there. The man responsible.
He gripped the steering wheel. He couldn’t face him. Wave after wave of emotion flooding over him. This was the man. This was him. This was—he had to. For Sarah’s sake, he had to see him.
Charlie opened the door. Stood out into the dusty earth, small plumes of dirt trailed him as he walked towards the shed. The engine ticked, making the sounds for his mind working. Everything coming together. Everything.
On the door was a do not enter sign. He took the handle into his hand and turned, hands shaking and weak. He pushed open the door.
A man was bound to a chair. He was long dead. Having been starved to death. His skin leathery and tight, Charlie couldn’t see his face. How he’d parked the car still left half of him in darkness. But he marvelled at there being no smell in the room, Charlie could only imagine how long he’d been here for him to have reached this stage.
He took out the torch. Taking a deep breath as he clicked it on, the beam facing away. Readying himself. He swung the beam onto the body, ready to know.
The face of the man had been hacked off. A mirror attached, reflecting his own face and the beam. A note below his face was attached, ha…ha…ha…
Charlie screamed. Kicked at the boxes on the floor. It was unfair. How could he do this? How could Ethan—Charlie stopped, taking the phone from his pocket. Trying to make the thing work. Screaming in frustration. The image of Sarah in his mind slipping away. The hallucinations seeming to have disappeared with the finding of the body. He ran out of the shed and threw the phone as far as he could. He screamed out into the sky.
Why was this happening to him? Why was he doing this?
He ran back inside the shed and booted the man’s legs. The bone cracked as it broke. He screamed. Booted the other leg. He kicked the chest of the body, the chair toppled backwards and he set upon it. Stomping down on the chest. Black ooze and dead blood squished out of the old body. He watched his face in the mirror stomping down. The snarl on his face. The anger and violence. The smell of the body was acrid now, disgusting, yet he didn’t stop. He took all his frustration out on this body. This man that he was lead to believe had destroyed his sister. But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel just. All he saw was his own face as he committed the atrocity.
He left the cabin, he needed the phone. He wanted to answer Ethan on the first ring. Tell him he was coming for him
. Tell him he’d kill him himself. This was no revenge. This was petty sociopathic manipulation of a madman. This was—but which way had he thrown the phone?
He ran out of the light of the car, searching the area for the phone. He hadn’t thrown it that far had he? If it was in the wheat he had no chance. But surely not. Surely he had just—
A flash! He ran towards the little light just before the field. The beacon of hope. The phone ringing. He picked it up. Violence at the ready and a scream filling his lungs.
Tut tut Charlie.
You fucker, Charlie screamed. You bastard. I’m going to kill you.
You’ve done that yourself.
No, Charlie said. Confidence and terror flooding through him, surety in his retribution. You listen here.
You threw the phone Charlie? And do you know what happened when I threw the phone? I called. Twice. Your impulsivity has cost you.
What’re you talking about? Charlie said. It’s barely been a few minutes.
My you’re stubborn. You stomped that poor body for a good thirty minutes. Look at your shoes. As I said, your inability to control yourself has cost you.
No wait, Charlie said. His body became cold. Suddenly weak. Wait, he said. Look, you can’t do anything to my family.
I’m sorry Charlie, you should’ve thought of them before you gave into your anger. I hope you said goodbye last time you saw them. The phone cut out.
Charlie stood there at the front of the shed, looking at his own face in the mirror reflecting back out. What had he done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ethan turned and left, allowing the girl to come in. She too was weak, her face bruised and limping. She pushed in the wheelchair, parking it next to the bed. Charlie wanted to help her, to be able to roll himself over, but his weakness only allowed him to smile at her. Hoping the small kindness would mean something to her.
She unlocked him from the bed, pulled him towards the edge, she hooked underneath his arms and pulled him across onto the chair. His legs remained on the bed, dead weights. She had to bounce him in her arms, pulling him deeper onto the seat, until his legs were nearer to the edge. She then swung them down onto the rests. Reversed him back and then out of the room.
Charlie noted that he hadn’t been cuffed to it.
They entered the living room. The tv crackling away in the corner. There was an assortment of foods on the glass coffee table. Drinks. A steaming jug of coffee. Ethan sat smiling, revelling in the cruelty to the starving man. How’s this all look?
Charlie smiled at the action. Well done, he said. The girl parked him in his spot in the corner. Turned to the window and opened the curtains but not the sun screens. She went about a few duties in the room, limping slowly along.
Making a show of it then, Ethan said.
She didn’t say anything but sat on her seat in the corner. Like a maid waiting.
Right, Ethan said, leaning forward and grabbing a leg of chicken with his left hand. He bit it ferociously. So you remember then?
Yes, Charlie said. Watching him, he realised that Ethan was nervous. Excited. The hand that held the chicken was shaking slightly. Anticipation on his face.
I wanna hear you say it, he said.
Which part? Charlie asked.
All of it. I want to hear.
I guess we’ll start at the fire, Charlie said. You happy there?
Very, Ethan replied. He finished the chicken off the bone and threw it at the girl. The movement swung him around, he corrected himself and brought his hands into his lap. Ethan’s right hand was hideously scarred. Curled into a claw.
Unseen to him, the girl had dodged the bone and was glaring at him. The look burning into Ethan’s person, Charlie watching her as he began his story. She was watching him with sheer hatred. Her fists clenched. Her chest rising and falling quickly.
Charlie opened the door from the burning room and the sudden influx of oxygen roared past his ears. The force sucked him back into the room and the fire exploded around him. The boards burned at his back as he rolled around, putting out the fire burning on his clothes. He looked around for Ethan. He had to crouch low to see underneath the smoke. He could see the bed, the bedside table—
A foot crashed into the side of his face. He felt teeth loosen and fly out. Ethan fell on top of him, pummeling him with fists. Desperate energy flowed into Charlie but it wasn’t enough for Ethan. Ethan continued punching Charlie until blood was flowing from his broken nose freely. He was choking it out of his nose. Charlie reached around and grabbed Ethan’s testicles and squeezed. Ethan yelled and rolled off of him.
Charlie raised his legs and began pushing himself along the boards. The smell of smoke was burning his broken flesh. The boards searing his back. Ethan fell upon him again.
You were meant to save me Charlie. We were meant to save each other. Just like I was meant to save Sarah. But I couldn’t. In the end, I couldn’t.
Charlie reached weakly for Ethan. The realisation of his words sinking through the haze.
But it seems I’ll be leaving two Gardner’s to die. Even the good are bad Charlie. I told you that. Ethan stomped Charlie’s stomach. Ran for the door out and closed it.
Even with the fire screaming around him Charlie heard it lock. Now adrenaline shot out of his mind, down into his heart and into his body. Ethan was killing him. Locking the door. Killing him along with the pastor. He ignored his empty lungs and damaged body, crawled for the door, used the joints to pull himself up onto his knees. He grabbed the door handle and tried turning it. The metal had become red hot in the fire, burning his right hand through the flesh and to his bone. Charlie fell back screaming. Feeling helpless and knowing he was going to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Charlie was speeding along the country roads. He had to get back to the city. He took a guess that Eve and the girls would be at Ethan’s. If they’d gone to her parents they probably would’ve been met by journalists. It would be easy to track her. It wouldn’t be expected for her to be at a journalist’s house. It was the gamble he was willing to take.
He screamed round a corner, feeling the rear of the car sliding out. He didn’t know what this stranger’s car could handle but he had to push it. He changed down gears for the bends coming up in the road. He took the corner’s wide and cut in close on the opposite lane, hoping no one was coming. He tried to ignore the flickers of Sarah in the car with him.
As he was driving he juggled the phone and tried to make it work. He hoped it was more straight forward than the last one. He just needed it to work. He needed it to. He couldn’t unsee his face reflecting out of the broken and decayed body, fear and shame all in one.
He dialed their home number. It never rang, but the service told him the line was unavailable. Which meant it was working.
He hit the zero button three times, was about to click dial but stopped. He couldn’t tell the police. He couldn’t call for help. If he told them what was on his mind, it would put him in jail. There was no way to link Ethan. There was no way, only him. Only Charlie Gardner was connected to the whole case. All the women were his ex-patients. If he told them the truth, it would be his family dying and him going to jail. He remembered Ralph’s card in his pocket, took it out. He flicked the interior light on and began dialing it. Ralph would understand. He understood pressure and having to make hard decisions. About letting people go for their own good.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Then stopped.
Charlie swore, braking for a corner and pulling on the wheel hard to keep it in line. He accelerated and changed gears. Sarah in his rearview mirror. He knew these roads like the back of his hand, having lived in the area of Silversgrove since he was a kid. He learned to drive out on these roads. He hit the redial button and held the phone up to his ear. Sarah in the front passenger seat.
It rang.
On the second ring, it was answered.
Hello?
Ralph
, it’s me.
Who?
It’s Charlie.
You know what time it is Gardner?
Ralph you gotta listen. I know who the killer is. I know who all the women are. I have the evidence that can—
Jesus Charlie. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.
No no no, Charlie said. No I’m not the PK Killer. But I know who is.
Ralph sighed. I dunno if you called the right number for this Charlie. This sounds bigger than anything I could handle.
Look, I can’t tell the police because how it’ll make me look.
It’s not making you look any better in my eyes, Ralph said.
It’s all circumstantial, Charlie said. I’ve been set up. With all the evidence I’ve got we can use it to get the real killer. I know who he is and his name.
Then who is it?
It’s complicated, Charlie said. He took the phone away from his ear and pulled hard on the wheel for a tighter bend than he’d expected. The wheels squealing. Sarah holding onto the dash.
Are you driving? Ralph asked, when Charlie came back.
It’s all complicated. But you just have to trust me Ralph. Trust me in the way you would’ve trusted Jack. I know you feel bad about letting him go. Feel responsible. I know that.
You and your sister are a bit different to that Charlie.
It’s not the whole story, Charlie said. Listen Ralph, at my house, you’ll find all my old records in the roof. Case files, everything else too. You’ll also find a bed. The killer has been sleeping above me and my family. Building this plan for years.
Fucking hell Charlie. This is sounding pretty far fetched, Ralph said. If you’re the killer spare me the—
I’m not the killer, Charlie yelled. But just listen! Will you just listen to me?
There was silence for a time on the phone. Charlie unsure if the phone had hung up. Finally he sighed. Go on, Ralph said.
A Killer Among Us Page 25