Horror Becomes Me

by Oldrich Stibor

  Five steps out into the living room and he froze. There the man sat. Right there on the sofa, starting straight at him! His eyes sleepy and red and his face wet from crying. His wrists were bleeding. More blood than he had ever seen before, soaking the man's pants and ruined the couch cushion under him.

  Their eyes locked on one another. The world stood, frozen in one crazy moment where nothing existed except their said scared faces gazing almost curiously at each other and then the man spoke. His voice was quiet and weak like he was about to fall asleep.

  “It's not real you know? None of it’s real.” He said and then a few moments later added, “run.”

  And he did. He ran out onto the street and into the cold night air. He ran harder and faster than he ever had despite the pain in his body and the desire to just curl up in a ball and cry for his mother, or perhaps because of it. He was naked for the world to see but he didn't care. This was just a nightmare. The man in his dream had taught him that. One day he would wake up and things would be different. Things would be better.

  Eventually he came to a house which he picked at random from a row of similar houses and banged on the door until an old women with long grey hear and dressed in a bath robe answered the door.

  “Help me! Help me, help me!” He screamed hysterically to the told old woman who stood there in shock.

  “Oh my God. What happened?” She asked and opening the door for him to enter. “Bill! Bill!” She screamed down the hall. “Call the police! Call the police!” and then the woman's husband was in the hallway and then he left again and Alex could hear him on the phone.

  “I need help. Right away,” he heard the man say. “There is a boy at our door. He is hurt. He's naked.”

  “What's your name?” The woman asked sitting Alex down on their sofa and wrapping a blanket around him.

  “Alex Cuther.”

  CHAPTER 33

  When Jeremy went missing Costa knew that Mary was telling the truth, but he didn’t feel that truth until Jeremy’s car was discovered outside of the home of a slain family. Two adults with their throats cut and signed by Mister. That was now two families in two days. It was impossible to keep that out of the public eye and the media had already seized on it. If anyone found out about Jeremy’s suspected involvement in the killings the news networks would be work themselves into a rabid froth that wouldn’t even begin to taper off for months.

  Costa walked into the task force’s room fresh from being spanked by the deputy director himself.

  ‘If this gets out your career is over,’ he had told him plainly at the end of their very tense conversation.

  “How’d it go?” Mathews asked, knowing he went to see the big wig. Costa just waved it off.

  “What do we got?”

  “Had the whole neighbourhood checked out by LAPD in case he was hiding in a home nearby. Negative on that. Had his name flagged with the TSA in case he tries to get on plane.”

  “Nope. He’s staying put,” Costa said. “He’s in Los Angeles until this is done.”

  “Any thing to go on in the car?” Mathews asked.

  “Nothing. Gps hasn’t been used in a week. No visible blood in the car. Where is Green and Maramarco?”

  “I sent them to work the scene just like you asked.”

  “Okay listen Mathews. This stays between us for now. You and me. That’s it. Okay?”

  “Listen, Jim. This is all our asses on the line here. Yours, mine. Even the fucking Director’s. This can’t get out. I know that. So whatever way you and the bureau decides to handle this, I’m onboard.”

  “Okay... Good. Good,” Costa said cupping the back of his tense neck. “What murders do we like Foster for?”

  “Well,” Mathews started. “What murders could he have done? The most recent family up north? Two days ago, We looking at him for that?”

  “Could be,” Costa shrugged. “That was after Mrs. Stien came to us with this.”

  “The kid,” Mathews said. “The kid that was suffocated last week. I knew that wasn’t Mister.”

  “Yeah… You were right. Fuck… Fuck!” Costa screamed and kicked over a chair.

  Costa turned to face the map of kill sites on the wall.

  “He was with us at the Varsa’s residence. He was at the crime scene. He could have been the killer.”

  They just stood there for a long time staring at the board their head hung low, breathing in each other’s exhaustion and frustration like second hand smoke.

  “Okay,” Costa started forcing himself to take the first mental step. “We need to focus. We got two perps now. Mister is in a frenzied state. If Mister knows that we know he’s using Foster to kill he’s going to make him do it again soon. He’s not going to risk loosing that kind of power over someone by leaving him inactive while the police track him down… So what do we got? Right now. This second.”

  “I don't know, I've been thinking about this connection with Danielle White and Victor Matherport.” Mathews said.

  “The shelter.”

  “Yeah, the shelter. The girl is volunteering at the shelter. Meets Matherport. She is friendly to him. He develops a crush. I can see that. What I can't see is a girl like her staying in touch with this creep after she no longer works there.”

  “Okay, so she's a kind soul. She stays in touch with him out of sympathy or whatever,” Costa suggested.

  “Okay fine. Yeah maybe. But I just don't see it. So I looked at Matherport's tax records. The guy has been on disability since he was like twenty-two. Based on acute anxiety and schizophrenia. Then all of a sudden in o' eight he stops filling out his slips to receive his monthly cheques. But he's still paying rent and utilities on his shit hole apartment for two years with no on-record income.”

  “Couldn't be dealing drugs. Not for two years,” Costa said. “The guy was too much of a fuck up.”

  “You're right. It takes a certain amount of street savvy to make a living dealing for that amount of time, which I just don't think our pal Victor possessed. So here’s what I’m wondering,” Mathews said. “Could he have been working at First Response Alarms?”

  “Well, definitely their relationship was based on a pity or kindness she had towards him. No common ground between those two I can see besides that. She may have gotten him a job there and that would explain how they were still in touch nearly two years after she had stopped volunteering at the shelter. And how Matherport was able to pay his rent after cutting himself off from disability” Costa posited with a certain air of angry amusement.

  “That’s what I was thinking too,” Mathews said.

  “Okay, it’s something. Let’s go pay another visit to Mr. Cuther.”

  CHAPTER 34

  The flickering over head lights glowed with excessive wattage casting a sickly green-white glow creating a dream like flatness to the room. The axe felt heavy and cruel in his sweaty hands. He chocked the handle until his knuckles hurt. This was what he wanted. To be permitted inside this lunatic's delusion. Now how did he get back out again with his son, and his own life? Though what life he could ever go back to living was beyond the scope of his impoverished hope.

  He scanned the rooms for cameras. None. Nor was there peep hole on the door. Meaning, he could afford himself a moment to collect his thoughts.

  He thought of his son in the next room, how scared he must be. Maybe he even had been maimed, as Cindy had. A gaudy knot of fear and anxiety and rage grew in the hollowness of his stomach like a parasite until it filled him and overpowered him and found himself stomping pointlessly at the concrete with his foot just to release some of it. He was close now. Charlie could be less then thirty feet away from him. It was likely the next room had cameras in it for Mister to observe his captives. He would be watching and so Jeremy had to slip back into the role. Though what he would do once inside, he did not know. He turned the handle and entered the room.

  ***

  I swear to God if this guy dicks us around again...” Mathews said and left the thr
eat unfinished as if to suggest one could only imagine. Costa snorted and nodded an agreement, pulled into the cobble stone drive way of the Cuther Residence.

  “Has Nancy been able to get him on his phone?”

  Mathews consulted his hand held and shook his head.

  “Nope. She keeps getting his voicemail.”

  They approached the door, knocked and waited. Knocked louder and waited. Costa slammed the door with his palm over and over and over.

  Finally footsteps could be heard inside and the door swung open.

  “Yes?” Mr. Cuther said out of breath. A slight sweaty sheen on his forehead.

  “Did we catch you at a bad time?”

  “Well, yes sort of actually. But that's okay. I was just exercising. How can I help you?”

  “We just have a few more questions if you don't mind.” Costa replied.

  “No of course not.” he said but clearly he did. “Please, come in.”

  He led them into the living room, grabbed a bottle of water from a bar fridge and guzzled it.

  “I was just going over the tax forms you submitted to us. Danielle started First Response Alarms in June of o' nine, yes?”

  “Uh... Yeah I think so. I would have to double check. You know, you could have just called me with these questions.”

  “We've been trying to call you. Check your messages.”

  “Well you're here now.” Cuther shrugged.

  “Yes we are. Who was Mrs. White close with on your crew? Can you think of anyone who she might have confided in? Anyone dangerous who may have been the person who got her into trouble in first place?” Costa asked.

  “Listen, what friendships she maintained with the other employees is something I wouldn't be able to help you with. I simply wouldn't know. You know how it is, facebook and whatever. She could have been friends with any of them or none of them for all I know.”

  “Ever employ any felons?” Mathews asked. “To your knowledge.”

  “No. Not to my knowledge. I do full background checks on everyone I hire.”

  “Oh yeah?” Costa asked, taking a couple steps towards him “You do a background check on Victor Matherport?”

  ***

  The second door led to a small metal platform and a short flight of stairs which descended into a chilly wide open and unfinished cellar. Bare cement floor and walls. In the centre of the room was a circle of chairs. Charlie was facing him, tied to a chair and blindfolded. It took everything he had not to drop the axe and run right to his boy. He was breathing. Thank God. To his left was a young girl dressed in pink lingerie and striped stockings who he recognized as Cindy, Mary's niece. Next to her was an adult male hostage with his back to him.

  Jeremy approached the circle, the axe down at his side. He knew they could hear his footsteps. Observed them go a little more rigid with fear at the sound of each footfall. Casually he glanced around at the corners of ceiling and counted no less then four cameras. Mister was watching. He came around the front of the man and recognized him immediately as Gregory Whinner. Abducted from his home roughly two weeks ago. Deceased. An astonishing amount of blood from deep wounds in his abdomen and neck had coagulated under his chair and ran to a small drain in the centre of the room. His milky eye balls stuck in horrible final moments.

  Jeremy had no idea what to do next. He had done what he'd done for the sake of his son's life and to stop this Mister's reign of terror but how could he continue down this road in Charlie’s presence?

  This was a test. And if he passed the test he knew he would have Mister's trust. Mister had to have wanted him to kill Charlie. That would be the truest test of course. That was the surest ticket into his confidence. He saw himself as the God-Mind out of which everything sprung and he had demonstrated an affinity for scripture. For God so loved the world he sacrificed his only Son... But that obviously was not going to happen.

  The axe suddenly felt restless in his hand so he placed the head of it on the floor and the klanking sound it made the children jump. He glanced up at one of the cameras and slowly walked into the middle of the room so he was the epicentre of their little circle of despair. He would kill the girl... If he killed the girl, Mister would drop his guard... or kill him for getting it wrong.

  Could he do this last thing? Did he have a choice? All the horrible things he had done to get here would be for nothing if he didn't see it through. He looked up at the camera and hoped Mister didn't expect him to immediately know what to do. Hoped that he had just a bit of time to collect himself.

  ***

  “I- I don't understand,” Mr. Cuther said, smiling nervously.

  “You don't understand?” Costa said flatly. “Okay. Okay. Mr. Cuther. This can either be easy, in which case I won't report you for hiring employees under the table. Or we can do it the other way which involves the vampires down at the IRS. We know he worked for you,” he bluffed.

  In response Mr. Cuther began to shake his head as if to protest further but Costa glared at him with his not in the mood for bullshit face.

  “Okay. Okay, look. I don't want to get into any trouble here.... Jesus I thought all this was behind me.”

  “Start talking,” Mathews ordered as he and Costa both grabbed a chair at the high top table by the window.

  “First of all I just want to say that the only reason I lied is because how damaging this would be for my company – Any company to have employed someone like that. Let alone a home security company. And of course, I had no idea he was... that kind of person. I mean, he was... different certainly but I had no idea. You have to believe me.”

  “You seem to be doing very well for yourself. Why would you need to hire anyone under the table in the first place? Why take that chance?” Costa asked.

  “I don't know... Danielle said he was on disability. That he needed to keep his government benefits because he was, you know, sick.”

  “Only he didn't stay on disability,” Mathew's interjected.

  “Well, maybe he felt bad about claiming and working. I don't know.”

  “So Danielle got Matherport the job with your company.”

  “Yes, she asked me to give him some work as a personal favour to her.”

  “Okay, okay.” Costa got his head around the implications. He found himself looking around the house, something unbelievable yet obvious starting to form in his mind.

  ***

  Madness pumped through Jeremy's veins and he could feel it there, bubbling under his skin like a parasite trying to gnaw at his organs, trying to multiply and fill him. The stench from Mr. Whinner's corpse had found it's way into his nostrils and throat and sat heavy in his lungs. If he killed Cindy in a brutal enough fashion, perhaps that would be enough.

  He was taking too long. He felt as though Mister would burst through the door any moment with his gun raised and open fire. That would be the worst out come by far. To be this close and to have lost. For all those people to have died for nothing. He owed it to them to follow this to the grim end.

  He approached Cindy Summers. She winced at the perception of their approximation. His white gloves chocked the axe.

  “I'm sorry,” He whispered before he realized he had said it and hoped like hell the cameras didn't have mics.

  ***

  “Look, um. Do I need a lawyer or something Mr. Cuther asked, his eyes wide with worry. “I'm trying to be helpful here.”

  “What would have been helpful is you being honest with us from the get go. Do you realize people's live are at stake here. People are dying.”

  “I- don't understand. I thought this was about Danielle?”

  Mathews got up and began to casually look around.

  “I'm the one who doesn't understand. You said you do criminal checks on all your employees. You weren't aware that Victor had several assault charges. Animal abuse charges? Any of that ringing a bell?”

  “No, no. If I knew that I would have told Danielle I couldn't help her. I didn't bother doing a background check on him because I wa
sn't planning on filing him as an employee. I didn’t want the paper trail you understand? It's an insurance thing.”

  “We're going to need see a complete list of all your customers,” Mathews said and he and Costa quickly exchanged a look. Their eyes both searching each others for intention.

  “Yes, yes of course. Actually I have a Cabinet right here with much of that information,” Alex Cuther said and began to search a large draw in a wall unit.

  Costa could feel the hairs on the back of his head stand up and goosebumps start to itch his arms. Something wasn't adding up.

  “How long has First Response Alarms been operating?” Costa asked slowly reaching down and unbuckling the button on his holster with his thumb like a coin flip.

  “Oh since about two thousand and two?” He said, his backed turned still fishing around in the drawer.

  “So Victor Matherport is charged and convicted for the Mister copy-cat murders after Mrs. White goes missing and you don't put the two together?” Mathews asked.

  “No, no. It did cross my mind Agent Mathews. After all. We are all connected.” he said, pulled a handgun from the drawer and shot Jim Costa directly in the face.

  ***

  Jeremy was already in motion when he heard the shot. The axe arcing up and behind him reaching for the apex of the swing where it would drop and let gravity help it to its mark. He nearly doubled the effort from the sudden startle, though found the presence of mind to let go of the handle before it was too late. It fell loudly to the floor; Jeremy whipped his head towards the door and waited. Two more shots rang out from somewhere upstairs.

  He picked up the axe and went to Charlie first who jumped at his touch.

  “It's okay,” Jeremy croaked, a wave of shame washing over him. His son would have to see him like that. There was no other way. “It's okay Charlie. It's me.”