by Simon King
“No, not like that. I mean he got in my head. I know it doesn’t make sense, but he’s somehow manipulating himself more and more into my subconscious.”
Tim took a drink, pulled out his cigarettes and fired one up. He stared at the smoke as it rose before being dragged along by the breeze.
“It makes perfect sense. Inner demons are the worst. For one, you can never outrun them. They’re as much a part of you as your heart. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have such a monster living inside you.”
“He’s been terrorizing my entire family for almost century. He’s murdered so many, including my grandmother, my mother, and God-knows who else.”
“The hard thing about them,” Tim continued, “is that first, you need to decide whether those demons are real.”
Sam stopped rolling her drink between her fingers and stared across the table. Tim instantly knew she was about to snap at him.
“What the hell do you mean if he’s real? I can promise you, he’s real.” He surrendered, holding his hands up to calm her before the emotion really let go.
“Hey, I’m on your side, remember? I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing.”
“No, not like this. This is different. Lightman is inside me. Somehow, he managed to get inside all of our heads and slowly work his way to such a place that he has total control.”
“I’m not saying he’s not real. What I’m saying is that you, Sam, you need to decide if he’s real and if he is, then you need to use that to your advantage.”
“But how? How do I use that?” Tim shrugged apologetically.
“That’s the million dollar question. Only you can answer that and only you will know when the right time is to utilize it.”
Sam took a long drink from her glass, picked up Tim’s cigarettes and rolled the packet between her fingers. Tim watched her for a bit, then reached out for them.
“You don’t want those,” he said. Sam relinquished them after opening the packet and taking a whiff, the smell of fresh tobacco filling her nostrils.
“Jim told me about Lightman as well. During that final dream.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“He said the secret was in the diary.”
‘You mean Lightman’s little black book?” Tim could see the fear in her eyes, something he had never seen before, despite all that they had been through.
“That’s the one. He said what I needed to do was turn the tables. Get into his head for a change. Turn it around on him and beat him.”
“I’ve heard some pretty crazy things. Even seen a lot of weird shit, especially when it comes from some of those we hunt. I mean the stories they tell you about voices and demons and fucken dogs telling them what to do. I never believed any of them.”
“What? How can you say-“ Tim held up a hand.
“Hear me out. I never believed any of them, not until now. Somehow, I see the truth in your eyes. It’s as if I can somehow see into your mind and see the very essence of the man you speak of. When you say he’s real, I believe you.”
The words he spoke meant more to her at that moment than she could ever explain. Without knowing she was going to, Sam rose in her chair a little, leaned forward and kissed him, feeling a jolt down her spine as their lips touched. Tim didn’t move, simply responding to the woman who’d grown on him with each passing day. She tasted the cigarette on him, somehow finding comfort in it the way a long-lost memory will sometimes spring forth from a random smell or taste.
While it only lasted a few seconds, the moment felt more like minutes, Sam feeling her heart pounding much too fast as she slowly pulled back. Tim gazed back at her, the surprise evident on his face.
“Sam?” he asked, tilting his head a little like a puppy.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, slowly pulling back and retaking her seat.
“No, that’s not what…,” Tim began, trying to catch up to the moment. It had happened so fast, the kiss had happened in the blink of an eye, leaving him almost speechless. “What just happened?”
“I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yes…no…I’m just so confused. This case, Black Death, Lightman, they’re all just in my head and I have no idea what way is up anymore. Was the kiss bad?”
“Kiss? No, no, it was perfect. Really, it just…it was just unexpected.” Sam sat back a little, looked across at her partner and smiled.
“Wait, are you blushing, Timothy?” Her words only served to increase the color in his cheeks, rising like lava towards the top of a volcano. She was sure the heat was rising just as much and giggled as Tim flipped her the bird. “Oh my God. That’s so cute.”
“Cute?” He grabbed the glass, drank his drink in three large gulps, then belched as hard as he could. “I’ll show you cute.” Sam laughed even louder as the color in Tim’s cheeks began to recede a little.
“That’s disgusting,” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to stay upright. “Oh my, oh my, I have to pee.”
She stood and half ran towards the door marked ‘Gals’. Tim watched as she disappeared into the ladies, the feelings he didn’t know he had, continuing to linger. Once he was sure he knew how to deal with them, he stood, headed for the bar and refilled their drinks.
Sam retuned almost ten minutes later, her hair and make-up fixed from her slumber ordeal and laughing attack. She looked much more composed than when they first walked into the bar and as she sat down, let out a long sigh.
“That’s better. See? All I needed was a strong man to help me see the funny side of life.
“Hmm, not sure about the strong man part. But I’ll take it.” He picked up his drink, held it out and said, “Cheers.” They clinked glasses and drank before Sam’s cell began to vibrate on the table.
“Hi Dad,” she answered, sounding a lot more jovial than she had when they first walked in. Tim gestured towards the men’s room and Sam nodded, listening as her father took center stage.
“Hi sweetheart, how’s things?”
“Great, just relaxing for the moment. How’s things back home?”
“They’re good.”She could sense that he had something he wanted to say and a split second before he did, she remembered about Jim.
“Listen, I heard about Jim Lawson. I know you and he were quite close and just wanted to see how you were holding up?”
She wanted to tell him about the dream she had, not just about Jim, but also the more recent Lightman experience. It had been, after all, her father that had not only raised her, but also taught her the mental strength to beat anything the inner demon threw at her.
But she also didn’t like worrying him. He already knew enough about her role in Pogrom to understand the strains she was placed under. She didn’t want to worry him anymore, knowing that each other was all that was left in this world.
“I’m hanging in. It was a shock to hear, but somehow, I guess I knew the day would come sooner rather than later.”
“Well, he was like two hundred years old, or something.” Sam giggled a little, more out of courtesy than humor. Her father had always found humor to be the best ice breaker and she knew he just wanted to make sure his little girl was good. “Well, as long as you’re OK.”
“I am. Thank you for checking in with me.”
“That’s my job, kiddo. Hey listen. How about dropping by soon? I know someone that really misses you?” Her heart instantly pined for Jasper, their beautiful retriever remaining on the farm with her father.
“Soon, I promise.”
“Alright, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
She hung up and for the first time in a long time, felt a touch of homesickness. Despite only being away for a little over a year and a half, the time away from home had gone by slower when she really thought about it. Time was funny like that. In some ways, it flew past, like when on holiday, or out go-karting. But then, it could also feel slow wh
en compared to an overall timeframe, much like she was now.
“All good?” Tim said, dropping back into his chair.
“Yeah, fine.”
“Has he heard about Jim yet?” Sam raised her cell and gave it a shake from side to side.
“That’s why he rang. He knows how it would affect me.”
“Maybe that’s why you feel the way you do? Maybe it’s because subconsciously, you somehow feel like one of your mentors is gone.”
Sam suddenly eyed him, feeling as if Tim touched on something she hadn’t considered before.
“As weird as that sounds, I think you’re right. Maybe it is all linked to Jim?” She took a sip, her eyes focusing off into the distance. “Maybe that’s why Lightman is feeling more confident.”
“Huh?”
“The dream that I just had? It felt completely different. Normally, he’s straight up front, killing someone in front of me, sometimes my mum, sometimes random people. But he’s always trying to scare me, or shock me. But this time?” She took another sip. “This time he changed. It was Eddie.” Tim looked at her curiously.
“Who’s Eddie?” Sam realized she hadn’t fully explained Harry to him. Not the way she knew him.
“Harry Lightman was my great grandfather. He had multiple personality disorder, with three distinct people living inside him. There was Eddie, Harry and Loui. Harry was considered the main personality, the one that communicated with everybody. Eddie was the subordinate one. He kept mostly to himself, almost too shy to interact, if you like.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to introduce me to the monster,” Tim whispered and Sam shot him a wink.
“Loui was the dominant one, the monster, if you will. You know, maybe I should just let you read his diary. He explains it so well.”
“Maybe,” Tim agreed.
“When Harry needed muscle or courage, he would call on Loui and once he arrived, shit hit the fan. Loui was like an unstoppable force of power. Jim had a theory that Loui was in fact the cannibal.”
“And Loui is the one that comes after you?”
“Yes, mostly. That is, until just now. This time, it was Eddie.”
“I don’t follow. Why would Eddie make an appearance? I thought he was the shy one.”
“Correct. And I’m pretty sure he was trying to lure me into a false sense of security. He somehow knew I’d listen to Eddie. By using him to lure me into the cabin and sit with him? Man, he certainly played a number on me.”
“Sounds like it. But why? What’s the purpose?” Sam pondered the question.
“That I don’t know. Jim did warn me. He didn’t often speak to my mother, but when he did, I know they often spoke about Lightman. He was inside her just like he is with me.” She took a drink, held the bourbon in her mouth, then swallowed hard. “He blamed himself for her, you know?”
“For your mum?” She nodded.
“He never came right out and said it, but I could tell. Ever since that very first time when he came on screen at Milton Ward. Eyes can’t tell lies. Remember that.”
“But how could he have…,” he tried, but wasn’t sure where to go.
“He couldn’t have,” Sam said, finishing the point he wanted to raise. “It was her own battle to fight, just like this is mine. Somehow, I think my grandmother, Stephanie, also had him inside her. Except she dealt with him in person as well.”
“That must have been hell.” Tim took a swallow, trying to imagine the monster when he was alive.
Sam reached inside her jacket, held her hand inside for a few moments, then removed something from her pocket. She held it out to Tim, unsure whether he wanted to follow her deeper into the rabbit hole.
“Only if you want to.” He reached for it without hesitation, flicking through a few pages before placing the diary on top of his cigarettes. “Just remember one thing,” Sam added.
“What’s that?”
“Once he’s inside you, he’s in there for good.”
They had been at the bar for over an hour before the conversation returned to their current case. Black Death was still eluding them and without any proper leads, were powerless to locate her.
“Mumma hasn’t had any luck finding any more contacts. Maybe she’ll take a break. You know, let things cool down some.” Sam looked at Tim and shook her head.
“There’s no way. If anything, it wouldn’t surprise me if,” she began, then snapped her mouth shut.
“What?”
“Of course. Clara.”
“What about her?” Tim asked, sitting forward.
“Now that Norman’s been killed, she practically worships that woman. I would bet my Mustang that she’ll try to warn her.”
“You really think so?”
“You saw how she celebrated. Even after what we said to her, she continued sunning herself in the blood of her victim. I’m telling you, she’ll warn her.”
Sam reached for her cell and dialed Mumma. Once connected, she explained her theory and asked Mumma to see if she could trace Clara’s messages, wherever they lead to. As always, Mumma obliged, promising to throw extra resources at the matter.
Once Sam had hung up and finished her drink, she pushed her glass away, waving her hand back and forth.
“I’m done. As much as I needed that, I can never get used to drinking in the middle of the day.”
“You ready to continue?” Tim asked and Sam gave him a mock salute.
“Let’s go, Chief.”
They drove back to the hotel in relative silence, each with their own thoughts filling their minds. Sam thought about Jim and the last conversation they’d had, the last proper conversation.
He had handed her the diary that time, offering her the option to really learn about the monster living inside her, the monster she had now handed to Tim. She looked down at the ring sitting on her finger, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. It dazzled her, just the way it must have done when first handed to Stephanie all those years ago.
He had told her that Stephanie was just as much a part of her as Lightman was. While he was the evil force, she was the good. Like shadow and light, good and evil, right and wrong, Sam held inside her both ends of the scale, both driving her and her alone.
It was during that drive that things seemed to finally fall into place for her. In her mind, pieces of the puzzle first circled around each other, then dropped before her, all finding their rightful place as she continued to stare at the ring.
She didn’t tell Tim then, but she knew she would when the time was right. Jim had been right, despite Sam not understanding at first. They were both inside her, because they both were her. She was as much Harry as she was Stephanie. They were her conscious and unconscious, her subjective and objective. They decided how she handled situations. When the situation called for Loui, it was Loui that drove her, giving her the strength to fight. Stephanie was the one who pulled him back when he was no longer needed. Stephanie determined when Loui was called and how much of him needed to be unleashed.
The dreams were never about the actual monster living inside her, because it was her, Samantha Rader, that was the monster. She was the one standing on that porch, killing her mother over and over again. It was her that sat in that cabin, gesturing for the weaker her to come and sit.
Jim had tried to explain it to her on more than one occasion, but for some reason it hadn’t clicked until now. Somehow, stepping back from the words had given them the clarity she needed to comprehend the message. She finally understood.
10
The room felt warm by the time they returned and Sam hit the A/C the second they stepped through the door. She was a cold sleeper and knew if the room didn’t cool down enough, would suffer because of it.
Tim hit the bathroom as she grabbed the laptop and began to flick through several pieces Mumma had sent through. They had been right. Clara had indeed sent a message to Black Death almost the moment they had left her home. The message was brief and to the point.
> “They know where you hide.”
Sam slammed her fist on the table, pissed at the stupidity of the woman. But part of her understood her intention and again, she felt the confusion of the day grab at her.
“Hey, what happened?” Tim asked, returning to the sound.
“Right on cue, almost the minute we left her. Look.” She turned the screen a little and Tim read the words.
“Should have expected it.”
“Yes and now she’s gonna change where she communicates. She knows we’re onto her and that’s just gonna make it twice as hard to find her again.”
Tim dropped into a chair and stared at the laptop, thoughts filling his mind as he tried to make sense. He leaned forward and held his hand out.
“May I?” he said of the computer. Sam slid it closer to him, then sat back, staring at the ceiling as she tried to find alternatives.
“There’s got to be a way,” she whispered, more to herself than Tim, but he answered her anyway.
It was long time before he answered, Sam busy scrolling through her cell and searching for any possible lead she could follow.
“Maybe there is,” he finally offered.
“Huh?” Sam asked, trying to remember the original question.
He stood, slid his chair closer to her and slid the laptop across. On the screen were several open documents, plus two websites, both from the dark web.
“See? Look. Seven victims, but only six were from this here website.” He pointed to End the Pain, running his finger down the list of names. “But this one came from End My Pain. They’re different.” Sam looked, as if to confirm.
“How did I never notice that before?”
The two pages looked virtually identical, all except the middle word, which itself had been shrunk down on each page.
“Norman came from the same site as the others, the one Clara used to make contact. But Trent Houghton came from End My Pain. I’m betting she won’t bother finding a new hunting ground. My guess is she’s already done the searching and kept this one in reserve.”