The Burying Place

by Vicky Jones

  “That’s sick. What the fuck?” The Gardener said, looking at The Therapist, who had nothing but regret etched all over his face.

  “Yep,” Amanda continued. “I stayed with him for a bit after that. Watched the colour change in his face. Wasn’t long before he became cold and I thought, I wonder who might be missing him tonight? A girlfriend, his mum…what would they give to switch places with me right now to hear his last breath. I felt fucking amazing. It was more of a high than the coke.”

  The Nurse put her hand to her mouth and began weeping. “That poor man.”

  The Gardener banged his fists into the desk and stood up. “You’re not anything like us, you fucking twisted bitch,” he yelled, stabbing a finger at Amanda, who smirked. “Who the fuck are you? Really?”

  “It gets better…” Amanda replied, grinning. “You think that’s twisted? You wait until you hear what I did next.” She reached over for another biscuit and munched down on it.

  “You’re fucked up, you are!” The Gardener exclaimed.

  “What do you mean, ‘it gets better’? Who are you?” The Teacher stood up and walked over to Amanda’s side of the table. She barely flinched.

  “You’re a monster. How could you do such a cruel thing?” The Nurse wiped her eyes with a balled up tissue from her sleeve.

  “Cruel?” She tilted her head from side to side, weighing up the accuracy of that estimation. “Maybe? But I didn’t know him, so who knows, he could have deserved it. Been a horrible boss, or a kiddie fiddler or something? But is that important? Are you saying that what you did was any better just because you decided that they deserved to die? We are all the same.” There was a pause. “Perhaps not the same. There was one difference.” She waited. The atmosphere was thick. “I didn’t half enjoy it.” Amanda let out a bark of laughter that made The Nurse jump.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “What? I’m just being honest.” Amanda looked at The Therapist. “It aroused such a curiosity in me to do it again.” She then turned her head and flashed the others a look of pure evil. “And that’s where you all came in. Because of our mutual friend over there,” she said, cocking her head at The Therapist.

  All three looked at The Therapist. To their surprise, he had tears in his steel grey eyes.

  “What is it you want, Amanda?” The Therapist asked in a measured voice.

  “To know where the burying place is. Where do you get rid of the bodies?” There was barely a tone in Amanda’s ice cold question.

  “Amanda, they don’t know. Neither do I. I had someone take care of that part. It protects everyone. You should go. You’re wasting your time here.”

  “Why on earth would you want to know where the bodies are buried? I’m so confused. Are you a journalist or something?” She looked around. “Are you the police? Is this a…a…bust?”

  “Why do I want to know?” Amanda laughed. “Fascination, yeah, is a big factor. But mostly, because I need to know where I’m going to bury my mother. Eventually.”

  The mug The Nurse was holding dropped to the concrete floor, shattering into pieces.

  “I don’t want to get caught now, do I? I’ve done so well so far,” Amanda added with a sly smile.

  “You need to start talking. Now,” The Teacher commanded, his face pale as he glared at The Therapist.

  “Your mother’s been missing for nearly two weeks now?” The Nurse asked, looking confused as she tried to piece together the fragments of Amanda’s tale. “There’s been no sightings of her, so I hear from the news.” She stopped and looked at The Therapist. “Why don’t you know anything about her mother’s disappearance?”

  Before he could answer, Amanda let out a chilling laugh.

  “Clearly, you all haven’t been paying attention. Haven’t you worked it out yet? I’ve had my mother locked up for the last two weeks, while I’ve been trying to find you lot.”

  Stunned silence filled the room. Amanda continued.

  “I went to the pub you all meet in. All I had to do to find you was Google ‘pubs with dodgy reputations in the area.’ The Anchor has a reputation of being a haven of wrong’uns. While I was there, a news bulletin came on, about all the people that have gone missing, and when I asked the barman about your cosy, and very odd-looking, little group meeting going on in the corner, he sang like a canary. And you know what? He was right. A geeky-looking teacher, a middle-aged nurse and a, may I say, very fit looking gardener, all meet up in a pub. It’s like the start of a bad joke. I mean, in what world would you bunch of misfits all be friends? So, I followed you all here and tricked you into blabbing. How you haven’t been arrested and locked away is beyond me. You’re all so fucking bad at this game. And unless you really do need me to spell it out for you, I’m the one who killed the three bastards you wanted rid of. Me. We all got what we wanted. I wanted the buzz of killing again, and you wanted those scumbags dead. And The Therapist could make it happen. So, really you should be thanking me. And it was so well run. Whoever does the clean-up, fair play to him. I shit myself after I did in the first one, that doctor. I thought I’d get a knock on the door five minutes later, but nothing. All I want in return is to know where to bury my mother, so I’m as free as a bird afterwards, like you all are. I’m only asking for one fucking thing from you.” She scowled at The Therapist. “Now, Richard. It’s very simple. I need to know who you hired to clear up the scene after I had killed them and where those bodies are buried. You know, Richard. So don’t you be fucking telling me you don’t. I’m on a time limit here, and I’m not doing all that shit for you lot and none of you wanna do fuck all for me.”

  The Nurse looked shell-shocked. “But your mother, Amanda? She doesn’t sound like a monster. This is completely different to our cases.” She took a seat next to Amanda and softened her voice. “It’s not what we are about or why this group was created. We’re traumatised every day for playing a part in ending a person’s life. But that person was terrorising people. Your mother, what did she do to deserve this happening to her?”

  Amanda’s eyes darkened as she stared back at The Nurse. “So what you are saying is that if you decide someone deserves to die it’s OK, but if I decide then it’s murder? Who made you judge and jury? Anyway, my mother does deserve all that’s coming to her. She’s the one responsible for my dad’s death.”

  “What? How?”

  “He killed himself. She drove him to do it. She drove him to drink and that’s when he did it. He was drunk that night…”

  The Nurse shook her head. “This sounds like grief talking. You’re angry. I get that, but you can’t take your mother’s life because of it. You’d be an orphan. Is that what you want?”

  “You’re fucking right I’m angry.” Amanda stood up and paced the floor. “And how does my mum help me through my feelings? The night I run over the guy, I come back home and as soon as she sees me, my mum threatens to turn me over to the police right there and then for being drunk and high on coke. What kind of mother does that? Can you imagine what would happen if the police looked into my whereabouts that night? I’d get done for drunk driving and taking drugs, kicked out the house and also arrested for the small matter of killing some guy on the way home.”

  “Look, I’m sure your mother cares about you. She was probably frightened of losing you to the drink and drugs and wanted to teach you a lesson. My God, Amanda. What have you done?” The Therapist said.

  Amanda remained unmoved. She walked up to The Therapist. “Richard, that’s enough of this bullshit now. Where are those other three people buried?”

  The Therapist raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t know. I really don’t know, Amanda.”

  “Then who does? I want a name.”

  “You know I can’t tell you. I won’t tell you.”

  Amanda clenched her jaw tight. “OK, have it your way. But I guess I’ll have to sort it, with or without your help.”

  “What do you mean?” Richard asked, concerned.

  Amanda laug
hed. “Well, I’ll bury her in the best place I can find and hope she’s never found. But if I get taken down, you lot are all fucking coming with me, don’t worry about that. Or, you tell me who gets rid of the bodies, we get them to do one last job for us all, as a returning favour to me for everything I’ve done for you snivelling fucktards, and we all stay out of the shit?” Amanda gave The Therapist one last long look. “Now, tell me where the burying place is.”

  No one moved, blinked or even breathed for what felt like an unnatural amount of time. The ceiling light swayed as a gust of wind swept up around the lighthouse. The window shutters a few floors above them clattered together with a hollow thud.

  “So, you’re blackmailing us? Is that why you’re here?” The Gardener forced the words through his tight lips.

  Amanda leaned back in her chair. “If you want to put it like that, then yes. I guess I am. But what the fuck do you care? Who the fuck are you to be all moral now?” The grin on Amanda’s face was chilling.

  “This isn’t normal,” The Nurse spluttered. “We are tormented every single day. We don’t enjoy this. This isn’t a high for us. We are looking over our shoulder to see if, for whatever reason, today is the day we get found out and not only is our life wrecked but so are our families. That constant worry is paralysing. Our reasons were genuine. Our people were bad people. Your mother is completely innocent. What you’ve done is barbaric.” She got up from her chair and pointed at Amanda. “You’re not right in the head.”

  Amanda looked down the barrel of The Nurse’s outstretched finger. “You were happy for me to kill the kiddie fiddler though, weren’t you? I looked him up before I did it. Richard gave me some basic details. I was curious. He looked like he had a perfect little life on Facebook. All for show, of course. So, I took care of it for you. But now you have a problem with morals?”

  “It’s not the same. Your mother is not the same. You can’t go around playing God,” The Nurse shrieked back.

  “To you, maybe not. But in my eyes she’s worse than all of your victims put together.”

  The Therapist sat down opposite Amanda and looked into her eyes. “How long has your mother been locked up, Amanda? Is she hurt?”

  “Not as hurt as I want her to be.” Amanda leaned forward and met his gaze across the table. “Who are the guys I need to speak to? I want her gone. Believe me, it’s in all of your interests for me to get rid of her properly.”

  “What if we don’t comply, Amanda? What if we deny everything?” The Nurse asked, her voice trembling.

  “When the police question me I’ll play them this audio.” She held up her phone and flashed a smile of accomplishment. “I’ve been recording you lot spilling your little secrets. Including how you gave the go-ahead to get somebody murdered. This here is cast iron evidence you’ve known all this time they were not missing, they are rotting somewhere.”

  There was a sudden rush of hands scrabbling across the table trying to snatch the phone off Amanda, who drew her hand away to safety, tucking it underneath her now folded arms.

  “You nasty little bitch!” The Nurse exclaimed.

  “For fuck’s sake, Amanda!” The Therapist yelled.

  Amanda looked down at the phone and pressed a few buttons. Looking up, she smirked. “And yes, I did just email it to myself, so if anything happens to me, it will be found anyway once the police start investigating my disappearance. You’re all fucked.”

  The Teacher looked at The Therapist. “For fuck’s sake, Richard, what do we do now?”

  The Therapist looked at Amanda, who seemed to have zoned out momentarily. “Amanda? Amanda.” She looked back at him. “I’m going to need some time. To contact these people. Can you give me at least that? One of them is out of town until the weekend.”

  “You have three days. I’ll come back here then. And you all need to be here too.” She pointed around the room. “Richard, you will have names for me. Or I will do it myself, then have names of my own for the police, you understand?” She got up from her chair. “I’ll see myself out.”

  It was a good minute or so before anyone could speak after Amanda had left the lighthouse.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” The Nurse said, her face pale.

  “Richard, what the fuck…you got her to do it of all fucking people?” The Teacher glared in disbelief at The Therapist.

  “Well, there’s not exactly a directory of assassins on Google. It had all gone to plan. We had actually all got away with it, remember. Then it went quiet and the police left it alone. Then, fuck me, Amanda snaps.”

  “Well, did you expect her to be a well-adjusted young lady?” The Nurse exclaimed. “After recruiting her from a therapy session, in which she disclosed the fact that she enjoyed killing somebody, to murder people for us? She’s a bloody psycho. You are responsible for this…you. What a fuck-up. My husband… Oh God, the stress of this will kill him.” She ran her hands through her short hair and wiped her eyes.

  “You need to get in touch with these people, Richard. You need to do what she says, or we’re all sunk,” The Teacher whined.

  “Are you serious?” The Gardener said. “There’s an innocent woman locked up somewhere, someone who’s done nothing wrong, and we’re actively going to help this psychopath Amanda dispose of her body after she murders her? And we’re OK with this?”

  “Of course not. But what options do we have?” The Teacher replied, throwing his head into his hands. “I can’t go down. I’ve got a wife too. If she ever finds out what I’ve done, what I have to live with every single day…”

  The Gardener slammed his fist down on the table, making the cups rattle. “What we did, we did for the greater good. To save lives and pain in the long run. That girl is a monster. Killing for kicks. If we do this, if we help her, we become exactly the same as her.”

  Chapter 14

  “Morning, boss. Breakfast?” Michelle said, handing Rachel a coffee and brown bag. “Having a tidy up?”

  Rachel put down the pile of folders she’d packed up from her desk and sighed. “Yeah. I just… Don’t you think it seems like a strange case? I mean, Hargreaves wanted us to take the lead rather than the Misper Unit, but now we’re finally starting to get somewhere she wants us to give it back to them and move onto something else. I think I want to speak to Amanda. See how she is. It should really come from me that we’re not looking into her mother’s case anymore and that someone else will be taking over. She’ll be fuming.”

  “Maybe. But if her mother wants to get away and spend some time dealing with her shit, then maybe it’s just as well that Amanda learns to deal with it. Get on with her own life. It’s not like she’s poor, is it?”

  “True. I’ll eat this, then go over there.” Rachel pulled her croissant out of the bag and took a bite. Her desk phone rang just as she was swallowing. “Morrison.”

  “It’s Andy, down at AV. We’ve had a hit on the people who bought the same make and model of washing machine we heard on the tape.”

  Rachel covered the mouthpiece. “Shit. I forgot to tell the AV guys we were passing the baton to Missing Persons,” she whispered to Michelle. “Go on, Andy, tell me what you found.”

  “Well, after we confirmed that Anderson’s washing machine made a different tune, we took a look at who else in the local area bought the same make and model of machine we were looking for. We got a hit. Very local. Very familiar name. You’re not gonna believe who has one like this.”

  “Andy, spit it out. I’m not getting any younger,” Rachel said, chewing on the last of her croissant.

  “A machine of the same make and model as the one heard on the AV of Diana Walker saying to leave her alone…was sold to Diana Walker.”

  Rachel nearly choked on a crumb of pastry. “Are you certain?”

  “100%.”

  “Shit. Thanks, Andy.” Rachel looked over at Michelle, both eyebrows raised. “The plot thickens.”

  “OK. What does that mean?” Michelle asked as Rachel pulled out of
the police car park. They had just received the update on the cell site they had requested and it showed Diana’s call had been made from within the radius of the cell covering the home address. That, coupled with the audio of the dishwasher playing in the background, made it seem fairly conclusive to Rachel that Diana had made the call from within her own house.

  “Well, there are two things that strike me as odd,” Rachel said, trying to marshal her thoughts. “Firstly, she’s been missing for two whole weeks and in that time no one has seen hide nor hair of her, so why did she suddenly decide to return home? Secondly, why would she ring us from her house and then claim to be on a train when she clearly wasn’t?”

  “She could just have been waiting for an opportunity to come back when she knew Amanda was definitely going to be out in order to collect some personal things,” Michelle pointed out. “And maybe she didn’t say she was at home because she knew we would rush straight around and she didn’t want to see us.”

  The suggestions were perfectly reasonable and made a great deal of sense, Rachel accepted, but she had long ago learned to trust her instinct, and right now it was telling her that something was not right.

  “We need to talk to Amanda, try and find out what her mother’s state of mind was the last time she saw her,” she said. “I’m worried that Diana is planning to do something silly.”

  As they arrived at the Walker property and pulled into the driveway, Rachel noticed that Amanda’s car was parked in its usual space.

  “She’s back then. That’s a relief,” Michelle said.

  They walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Amanda appeared. She wore a baggy jumper and jogging bottoms. Her eyes had large dark circles underneath them, her hair lacking its usual lustre.

  “Hi, Amanda. Can we come in?” Rachel asked.