by Matt Shaw
“Thomas.”
“Thomas?” Ryan looked at Dee - clueless as to what was going on and who the hell Thomas was, despite being introduced to him only a couple of days ago.
“The boy next door.”
“Ah - the plot thickens.”
“No. No plot thickens!” Claire said. “I went round there earlier - when you were out - and he said he wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?” Ryan pointed to himself.
“Yes.”
“I don’t even know him - why does he want to talk to me?” Ryan asked. Claire sighed heavily. She didn’t want her dad to know what Thomas was doing. She knew it wouldn’t upset him, so to speak, she just knew he didn’t suffer fools gladly. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” he snapped. The stress of the move, the stress of money, the stress of work - everything was getting to him and the last thing he needed was his daughter kicking off for whatever reason she deemed necessary this time.
“He wanted to talk to you about your work colleague,” Claire blurted out.
“My work colleague? What? Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“How did he even know about her?”
“I might have said something yesterday.”
“And why would he want to talk to me?” Ryan was starting to get angry. The fact some jumped up little snot not only upset his daughter but was also trying to stick his nose into his business - a step too far from someone who hadn’t earned the right to take any steps at all.
“He’s writing about the killer. He’s written about lots of them. He thinks he is going to be some big shot True Crime writer…”
Ryan turned to Dee, “Can you believe this? You want to do me a favour and nip this in the bud when you go out with your friend later? Please?”
“I’ll get her to talk to him.”
“I told him you wouldn’t want to talk to him!” Claire shouted to Ryan as he walked off and into the lounge.
“Yeah, you’re right!” Ryan shouted back.
Dee turned to Claire. She knew she’d take Ryan’s frustrations personally. She was at that age where any form of negativity would be taken the wrong way - as though she were the one to blame for whatever was the cause of upset. Just your average teenager. “Your father’s just upset,” she told her daughter, “he’s not angry with you.”
“I just want to go home!” Claire yelled before she turned around and ran off towards her bedroom, straight past Jen who’d come to see what the shouting was about. Dee sighed as Claire’s bedroom door slammed.
“This is your home!” Dee called out to her.
“What’s the shouting for?” Jen asked.
“Nothing,” said Dee. Jen didn’t need to know what was happening. As far as Dee and Ryan were aware - she knew nothing of what was happening in the news or at her father’s workplace. And that was the way it needed to stay. Dee quickly changed the subject, “I’m popping out later with Jackie, did you want to come?” she asked. “See if Kara wants to come as well?”
Jen nodded and smiled. At least one of them was happy.
* * * * *
It didn’t take long for Ryan to calm down. He knew none of what had happened was his daughter’s fault. Yes, she probably shouldn’t have said anything to their neighbours, about Ryan’s work colleague, but she wasn’t specifically told not to. And regardless of whether she should, or shouldn’t have, at least she had put Thomas straight by telling him that her dad wouldn’t be interested in talking to him. Hell - even if the young lad were a proper qualified journalist, writing an important piece, he still wouldn’t talk. Vanessa was someone’s daughter and a friend to many people. She shouldn’t be the subject of gossip-mongers. Especially whilst she was still presumed missing. If she had been taken - the fact people were talking - it could push whoever took her into doing something stupid. A panicked move to get rid of her before being discovered with her.
Dee had gone out with Jen, Jackie and Kara. She’d offered Claire the chance to go with them too but Claire had just ignored the knocking at her bedroom door. She was in no mood to talk to anyone; still sulking about the move and the fact her dad seemed angry at her with regards to what Thomas had asked.
Ryan knocked on Claire’s door with his knuckle. A little time-out, in the living room, made him realise he’d probably reacted a little stronger than necessary. Certainly a reaction which had been aimed in the wrong direction. Ryan didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door.
“Go away!” Claire said (not quite a shout) as the door creaked open. She hadn’t looked up from her drawing pad, where she was furiously scribbling. Had she done so - she probably wouldn’t have told her dad to go away. Not because she didn’t want to. She just rarely dared speak to him like that. She was fine to bark such orders at her sister, even her mother, but rarely her dad.
“If I went away I wouldn’t be able to apologise,” he said - a guilty smile on his face. Claire looked up and shot him a look before turning her attention back to the drawing. They both knew she wouldn’t stay mad at him forever. She’d have a little sulk and then he’d treat her as though she were eight years old by jabbing her in the side - something which always made her laugh and encouraged play fighting between the two of them. “Just pretty stressed today,” Ryan said, “what with the moving and what’s happening at work…”
Claire spoke to Ryan but didn’t look up from the drawing, “She hasn’t shown up then?” She was referring to Vanessa of course.
“No.” He wanted to tell her what had happened at work but figured she was still a little too young to hear the grisly details.
“Thomas said he knew who the killer is,” said Claire.
“Oh yeah. Who does he think it is then? Jack the Ripper?”
Claire hesitated a second, “He thinks it is our neighbour.” She turned to her window and looked out of it. Her window was the one which overlooked the neighbour’s garden. Their house was joined to Mike and Jackie’s home but there was a small alleyway between their home and this unknown neighbour’s own place. The garden was overgrown and messy, whoever lived there clearly didn’t care about the look it. Obviously they preferred to stay indoors - a statement backed by further proof in that neither Ryan nor any of his family had ever seen the person who lived there despite a car being in the driveway suggesting that someone was probably in.
“Well,” said Ryan with a smile on his face, “why don’t we go and say hello?”
“What?”
“Come on - about time we started making new friends!” he walked over to the bedroom door and turned back to Claire when he realised she wasn’t following. “Come on, I’m not joking. We need to introduce ourselves anyway and it might stop your little friend from trying to force silly ideas onto you again. Let’s go.”
Claire knew she didn’t have a choice. She put her sketching pencil down and followed after her father who had started down the landing.
CHAPTER TEN
The new girl is sleeping for now. I’ve used my time to watch the television - news channels in particular - to see if there is any mention of what I’d sent to the bank. Nothing. Now, only now, do I truly understand the frustration of Art when he first set up his pieces of artwork only to have them snubbed by the media. In his case it was probably for the best; it forced him onto the path of making a gallery. It forced him to make something so truly remarkable that no one could ignore it. And, to his credit and my admiration, he succeeded. With regards to my own work - I’m happy my main pieces have made it to the papers and television programmes. I think I’m glad the details of the package haven’t been leaked though. The fewer people who know I resorted to such copycat tactics, just to tell the world the missing bank woman isn’t with me, the better. I don’t want to be remembered as a cheap imitation. I want to be remembered for the people I leave in the woodlands. The pieces of the people at least.
I heard the girl scream and couldn’t help but to smile. The girl is awake now. How exciting. Of c
ourse I’ll start with the nails as per usual…A knock at the door from upstairs. Funny. Not expecting any guests. I dart towards my new house guest, with fist clenched, and hit her on the side of the temple. Her scream is silenced immediately. I just hope it stays that way. Long enough, at least, until I get rid of the unwanted attention.
I hurried up the stairs towards the front door and my waiting visitors.
* * * * *
Ryan was standing closer to the front door than Claire. She knew, deep down, that Thomas was wrong. Of course the killer wouldn’t be their neighbour. And if he was - if it was so simple that someone like Thomas could figure it out - then surely the police would have already found him. Even so she couldn’t shake the feeling - what if he was right? What if the person, about to open the door, was the killer the police were hunting? Claire felt the butterflies flutter within her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run home. Not to the house next door. That wasn’t her home. She wanted to go back to where she lived before. That was her home.
“Maybe they’re busy killing people,” Ryan said - a smile on his face.
“Let’s go.”
“Ssh…” Ryan craned his ear to the door. He could hear footsteps on the other side of it. “Someone’s coming.”
“I just want to go home!” Claire whined quietly in case the person coming could hear her.
“This is home and we need to make friends with the neighbours. That is what grown-ups do when they move somewhere new. They try and make friends.” That was Ryan’s excuse but he was more interested in disproving Thomas’ theory that the person who lived here was the culprit for all the recent killings. Not just for his own piece of mind but to also help settle his daughter.
The front door opened but not all of the way. Just a little crack. A gaunt looking face with dark hair peered through the gap. A hand on the door ready to slam it shut if he wasn’t in the mood for visitors. His eyes were bloodshot as though he hadn’t slept for many nights and his complexion pale.
“Yes?” his voice was quiet. A hint of a shake in the tone.
“Hi,” said Ryan. He compensated for the man’s deep suspicion by making his own tone more upbeat and his smile wider than it usually would have been when greeting someone new. “Don’t worry - we’re not selling anything - we’ve just moved in next door. Been there nearly a week now and thought it about time we came and introduced ourselves…”
“Okay…”
Ryan shifted on his feet - a little uncomfortable by the standoffish attitude of the strange man standing on the other side of the door. “I’m Ryan.” He turned to his daughter, “This is my daughter…Claire.”
“Hi,” Claire gave a little wave. She was already backing away from the front door. The man’s gaze fixed upon her. She thought she saw a little smile spread across his thin lips.
“So - yeah - nice to meet you,” Ryan was waiting for the man to open the door and, at the very least, offer his hand for a shake. Usually it would be polite for people to invite neighbours in, maybe offer them a drink or two. A way of building bridges and getting to know each other. Ryan noticed the man was still looking at his daughter. He took a step to the right and blocked his view - instantly feeling that Claire felt a little more comfortable. “We’re having a party this weekend. Inviting the neighbours in an effort to get to know everyone - we just wondered if you’d like to come?” Ryan said. A make-believe party in order to try and get something, (anything) from this strange little man.
“I’m sorry. I’m busy.”
“Oh - yeah - well of course. It’s short notice. Well if you get a minute, a moment off from whatever you are doing, you’re more than welcome to pop round. Especially if the volume is too loud…” He was trying everything he could to try and get a response from the man but there was nothing. Other than a vacant look. Still there was nothing. “Well it was good to meet you. And if you ever fancy it - we’re only next door.” He smiled again at the man. The man just nodded.
“Okay.” And he closed the door with a slam.
Ryan turned to Claire. He could see from Claire’s face that the visit had not inspired confidence in her. “He seems nice,” said Ryan. A second later and he couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how surreal the whole experience had been. Another second, or two, later and Claire couldn’t help but laugh too. Her laughter being more of a nervous one. “Come on,” Ryan lead the way down the driveway – back towards the safety of their own home. He stopped when he got to the end of the drive, though, distracted by an oncoming police car. It slowed to a stop next to where Ryan was standing with his daughter. The passenger door opened and a police officer jumped out of the car and approached Ryan.
“Mr. Reynolds?”
Ryan shook his head, “No.”
“This your house?” the officer asked. He pointed towards the front door Ryan and Claire had just walked away from.
“We live there. We just popped around to introduce ourselves. Is there a problem?” The smile from both Claire and Ryan’s face had faded. Replaced with a genuine look of concern.
The officer didn’t answer him. He stepped past the two of them and approached the front door. He was closely followed by the second officer who’d been in the car. Ryan recognised the second of the officers from the bank. He’d been one of the men helping with the questioning of the staff on the first day Ryan had gone back to work after his time off moving.
“Come on,” Ryan took hold of Claire’s arm and pulled her towards their drive - out of the way of the police and whatever they were about to do. From the safety of their own drive he turned back towards the neighbour’s house. The front door opened and he saw the police exchange words with the same gaunt-looking man they’d earlier introduced themselves to. Seconds later and the man stepped from the house, he closed the front door, and followed the police officers back to the car. There were no cuffs. There was no struggle. He simply got into the back of the car before being driven back down the road after a quick u-turn by the officer in charge of the wheel.
“What do you think that was about?” Claire asked.
“I have no idea,” said Ryan, “but let’s not tell your mother. No need to freak her out when it could be something entirely innocent. Like, maybe, he’s a police officer and he needed a lift to the station…” Of all the possible excuses he could think of - as to why his neighbour would have been picked up - this was probably the worst. After all, had he been a police officer, then there was no reason why the officers wouldn’t have known Ryan wasn’t the person they were looking for. They would have simply pulled up, gone to the door, and retrieved their colleague from his house. Ryan opened his front door and Claire stepped in. Ryan hesitated though. Someone was watching. He turned around, slowly, and noticed Thomas was standing by the front door of his own house. He was looking in the direction of the police car. He turned around and caught Ryan’s own eye. He raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’. Ryan turned away and stepped into his house, slamming the door behind him.
Claire was standing at the foot of the stairs, “So Thomas was right. It is him?”
“What?” Ryan knew what Claire was talking about. She’d jumped to the conclusion that he’d jumped to when he initially saw the police taking the neighbour away. The only reason he said what he did was to have a little more time to think about what he was going to say to diffuse the situation. Thankfully he didn't need much time. “If they thought it was him, if they really believed it, then they’d have arrived with back-up. And search warrants. For all you know - it could be something completely unrelated that they want to talk to him about.” And that was the truth. Just because it was bad timing, on their part, it didn’t mean it had anything to do with what Claire and Ryan had been discussing. Just a strange coincidence. One which was made that little bit weirder by Thomas. Ryan knew it had been him who’d phoned the police. That would have been too much of a coincidence for it not to have been. No doubt boasting of what he supposedly knew before Ryan or Claire go
t to the police first and told them. Just a little boy trying to claim glory - even if his beliefs were completely misguided (or so Ryan hoped). Claire opened her mouth as though she were about to say something but stopped herself short when the front door swung open and Jackie, Dee and the girls walked in. All laughing. All armed with bags of shopping.
“Now what?” Dee asked as soon as she saw Claire and Ryan and - more importantly - the guilty looks on their faces as though caught red-handed. Surely not another argument?
“Nothing.” Ryan was the first to speak. Dee didn’t need to know what Thomas had said. It would have only worried her unnecessarily and - again - it was completely unfounded. He turned to Jackie, “Mike home?”
“Not sure what hours he is working today,” said Jackie. “I can find out for you?”
“Did you want a cup of tea?” Dee asked - ignoring the fact Jackie and Ryan were talking.
“That’s fine,” said Ryan, “I’ll just pop over there and see.” He turned to Dee, “I’ll be back in a minute - and yes - I’ll have a cup of tea too, please.” He flashed her a cheeky grin before leaving the house.
“Go on, girls, go and play upstairs…” Dee told Kara and Jen. They didn’t need telling twice and both ran up the stairs past where Claire was standing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ryan hurried across the garden towards his neighbour’s house. He didn’t care if Mike was home or not. It wasn’t him who he really wanted to see. It was Thomas. He wanted to know whether the police had arrived because of Thomas or whether it was because the police had the same feelings as Thomas - albeit without enough proof to really act upon it other than to question him down at the station.
Ryan knocked on the front door. Thomas opened it - just as Ryan had hoped he would.
“Your dad home?”
Thomas shook his head. Ryan stepped into the house, pushing past Thomas. Thomas closed the door behind him and turned to talk to Ryan. “Claire told you?”