Dark Room

by Tom Becker

  It was Gabrielle.

  She was huddled beneath a dirty blanket, her hands tied in front of her and a gag in her mouth. Her clothes were torn and covered in soil. Gabrielle shrank back as the final board was removed, emitting a terrified squeak – but at the sight of Darla, her eyes widened hopefully. She began to make urgent noises through her gag. Darla put her fingers over her lips.

  “Hush now!” she whispered, as loud as she dared. “Don’t let him hear you. I’m going to get you out!”

  Easier said than done – the pit was pretty deep. In the moonlight, Darla spotted the handle of Leeroy’s shovel poking out from beneath a bush. She ran over and picked it up, taking hold of each end and lowering it horizontally into the pit as Gabrielle climbed unsteadily to her feet. A tall girl, reaching up she could grab hold of the spade with her bound hands. Darla gritted her teeth and pulled up the spade as Gabrielle used her feet against the side of the pit to scramble out. Somehow she managed to clamber free from the pit, gasping with relief as Darla removed the gag from her mouth.

  “H-help me!” she moaned, as Darla untied her hands. “Be-before he…”

  A light shone in Gabrielle’s eyes, cutting her off. She clutched at Darla as Leeroy limped into the clearing. He was carrying a bucket in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

  “Now what do we have here?” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “See what happens when you go around meddling?” he told Darla. “We had ourselves a nice ol’ chat but you couldn’t stop poking around Leeroy’s business, could you? And now we got ourselves a serious problem.”

  “S-stay away from us!” sobbed Gabrielle. “P-please!”

  Leeroy shook his head sadly. “We talked about this, Gabrielle. It ain’t safe for you out there right now. There’s some crazy lunatic trying to hurt pretty girls just like you. But don’t worry, you got yourself a guardian angel. Leeroy’s gonna take real good care of you – however long it takes.”

  Gabrielle moaned with fear.

  “Stop threatening her, creep!” Darla shouted.

  The flashlight shone in her eyes, temporarily blinding her. She heard a snarl as Leeroy lunged towards her, hands outstretched. Darla didn’t have time to think. She picked up the shovel and swung it at Leeroy as he charged at her. The blade connected with the side of his skull with a horrible sound of iron on bone; Leeroy didn’t even cry out as he collapsed to the ground. His limbs twitched, and then he fell perfectly, terribly, still.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “You killed him!” screamed Gabrielle.

  Darla dropped the shovel. She felt dizzy, her stomach heaving as though she was going to be sick. The blood on Leeroy’s temple glistened in the moonlight. Had she really killed someone? Darla wanted to run, but she wasn’t sure she could leave the clearing without knowing whether or not Leeroy was dead. His eyes were closed, his chest still. She edged forwards and crouched down beside him.

  “Are you crazy?” Gabrielle said frantically. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Darla ignored her. She leaned closer to Leeroy, until her ear was nearly touching his mouth, and felt his stale liquor breath upon her cheek. She closed her eyes with relief.

  “Is he…?” Gabrielle trailed off.

  Darla shook her head. “Alive and kicking,” she reported. “But I don’t want him running away when he wakes up.” She hooked her hands underneath Leeroy’s arm and lifted him. “Here, help me with him.”

  Gabrielle stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Just do it!” Darla shouted, exasperated.

  Gabrielle hurried over and picked up Leeroy’s feet, suppressing a shudder at the touch of him. Together they carried the body to the edge of the dark hole and let go, sending Leeroy sprawling to the bottom of the pit. He stirred, letting out a groan of pain.

  “That should do it,” Darla said, brushing her hands together. “The police can take it from here.”

  She turned to walk away but Gabrielle had stayed where she was, her face hardening as she gazed into the pit.

  “Do you like it down there, huh?” she called down to Leeroy. “How about I cover you up and leave you here? Hey? See how you like it.”

  She kicked the ground, sending a shower of dirt down over Leeroy’s prone form. Darla gently took Gabrielle’s trembling arm and led her away from the hole.

  “C’mon,” she said softly. “Let’s get outta here.”

  She led Gabrielle back through the trees, coming out by the waste ground in front of Leeroy’s trailer. Seeing the shaft of light shining out through the open trailer door, Gabrielle started to hyperventilate. She stumbled, wincing as her bare feet stepped on a sharp stone. Darla helped her across the ground to the track leading back towards the highway. The moon had sunk behind a cloud. When they reached the top of the trail, Darla saw a pair of headlights approaching from the direction of Saffron Hills. She ran into their path, waving her arms. The car slowed, and Pastor James warily rolled down his window.

  “What are you girls doing…?” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he peered into the darkness behind Darla. “Gabrielle? Lord have mercy, is that you? Are you all right?”

  Gabrielle nodded.

  “The whole town’s been looking for you, child, we’ve been so worried! Quickly, get in.”

  Darla helped the shaking Gabrielle into the back seat of the car, and Pastor James quickly drove off.

  “It’s OK,” Darla said reassuringly, as the track to Leeroy’s trailer disappeared in the rearview mirror. “You’re safe now.”

  “I thought … he was going to keep me locked up … forever,” said Gabrielle, in shocked bursts. “Was that him … the Angel Taker?”

  Darla shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “For real?” Gabrielle laughed shrilly. “How many psychos are there in this town?”

  Darla didn’t know what to tell her. There was no doubt that Leeroy was crazy and dangerous, but she still believed that – in his own twisted mind – he thought he was trying to protect Gabrielle. The Angel Taker was cold and calculating; they didn’t kidnap teenagers, they only cared about killing. No, Darla was sure that Leeroy had been right: Walter West had been in hiding but he was back now, somewhere out there in the darkness. Watching. Waiting.

  Gabrielle wrapped her arms around herself, still shivering violently. Darla took off Hopper’s leather jacket to drape over her shoulders, and saw something fall out of the pocket on to the seat. It was a book of matches with a logo of a snake’s head on it. Darla thoughtfully turned the matches over in her fingers. She looked out of the window and saw the creek running alongside the road.

  “Can you let me out here, please?” she called out.

  “You can’t!” Gabrielle said frantically. “It’s not safe!”

  “You can say that again,” the Pastor added from the front seat.

  “It’s all right,” Darla said reassuringly. “My daddy’s seeing some friends just down the way.” She took Gabrielle’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “You’re going to be fine, I promise. You need to go to the hospital and let them check you out. Tell the police about Leeroy. When he wakes up, he’s probably going to try to make a run for it.”

  If he wakes up, a spiteful voice added in Darla’s head. She tried to ignore it. Gabrielle nodded, and gave Darla a grateful smile.

  When Pastor James pulled his car over to the roadside Darla got out, watching the red tail lights disappear into the night. The temperature had dropped, and there was a cold wind that sent waves of gooseflesh crawling up Darla’s bare arms. She was regretting leaving Hopper’s leather jacket with Gabrielle. But this was no time to be feeling cold, or tired, or scared – she had to find her daddy. And since Hopper had driven off with a squeal of tyres without any clue as to where he was headed, technically he could have been anywhere in Saffron Hills. On the other hand, he was angry and depressed, feeling wounded and sorry for himself.

  Of course there was only one place where Hopper could be.


  There were no bands playing in the basement of Shooters that night, no queues waiting outside the door. But Hopper’s battered Buick was there, parked beside the row of motorcycles. As Darla approached, a raccoon scampered across the gravel and disappeared into the reeds down by the creek. McGee was leaning against the doorway, cleaning his fingernails with a toothpick. He didn’t even bother to look up as Darla marched to the entrance, just stretched a bear-like arm across her path.

  “Hold up there, missy,” he rasped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Inside,” Darla replied obstinately.

  McGee smiled. “That a fact? I’m gonna need to see some ID.”

  “I didn’t need any when I came here with Sasha.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know her,” said Darla. “Sasha Haas, the girl with the high-powered lawyer daddy who got you off a charge? Tall, nose piercing, likes to drink? You let us both in the other night.”

  The bouncer shrugged. “Don’t know her, don’t recognize you. Take my advice, missy – turn around and go home. This place ain’t for you.”

  Darla clenched her fists into a ball “Now you listen to me, McGee, and you listen good,” she hissed. “My daddy’s in this bar, fresh out of the police station, probably fall-down drunk, and I need to take him home before he gets into more trouble than he’s already in. I’m not going to drink, I’m not going to stay a second longer than it takes to get him out of here. You let me in, or I’ll go straight to the cops and tell them what happened last time I came here – and how Leeroy Mills ended up looking like he got run over by a truck.”

  McGee let out a bark of surprised laughter. “You got balls, missy, I’ll give you that.”

  “My name is Darla,” she said firmly. “May I pass, please?”

  He scratched the back of his neck, and then jerked his head inside. “You’ve got five minutes,” he warned. “And if I come in and find you doing shots at the bar, you’ll get the same treatment Leeroy got. Fair warning.”

  Darla nodded, and sidestepped the bouncer through the doorway. Inside Shooters, a sullen silence reigned. The bar was half-empty, all but a couple of stools at the bar left vacant. Yet the atmosphere was tense, soured by unfriendly gazes and dark mutterings. The barman, a tall red-haired man with a beard reaching down to his waist, watched Darla as she peered through the gloom for Hopper. Two men broke off their game of pool, openly staring at her.

  Darla forced herself to keep walking. A row of booths ran along one side of the wall – in one a couple were pointing fingers and arguing, in the next a guy was slumped alone in his seat, his head drooping on to his chest. She found Hopper in the last booth. He was in the middle of a story, waving his arms and swigging from a beer bottle as he spoke. There was a cluster of empty shot glasses on the table in front of him, the wood sticky with spilled alcohol. He wasn’t alone: a girl in an off-the-shoulder pink T-shirt with a bright blond bob was sitting with her back to Darla, her laughter echoing around the bar. The same haircut Darla had seen in her vision of the girl in the dark room.

  Hopper looked up and saw Darla, his bottle freezing in mid-air. The girl twisted round on her stool.

  “Darla?” said Sasha. “How the hell did you get in?”

  Darla gasped and took a step backwards. It felt as though she had been punched in the stomach.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Nothin’ to fret about,” Hopper said quickly. “Just havin’ a coupla drinks is all.”

  “Together? Just the two of you?” Darla laughed nervously. “Is this a date or something?”

  “Of course not!”

  “She’s seventeen,” said Darla. “And my best friend.”

  Hopper took a swig of beer, slamming the empty bottle down on to the table. “You know what, darlin’?” he said. “I’ve had a pretty rough coupla days. I don’t know if you heard, but I got arrested on suspicion of being a psychopath who goes around butchering kids. So I went to the mall to buy me some records, and Sasha here saw how miserable I was looking and suggested we go out and have some drinks, try to have a little fun. Yeah, I said OK. I said fine. I said great. You tell me, Darla, what terrible crime am I committing here?”

  Darla stared at Sasha in disbelief. “This was your idea?”

  She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Guilty, your honour.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  Sasha rolled her eyes. “It’s just a drink, Darla. Jesus, you’re such a buzz killer.”

  “It’s not just a drink, Sasha. Hopper’s an alcoholic. How could you?”

  “I thought it might cheer him up!”

  “You could go drinking with any guy in Saffron Hills you want, and you choose my alcoholic daddy? What kind of friend are you? You think you’re some kind of rebel but you’re not – you’re just a rich, spoiled bitch who uses everyone she meets.”

  “Tell it to someone who cares,” Sasha replied.

  Darla was so angry her whole body was shaking. “You better watch your step,” she warned.

  Sasha stared at her. “Or what?”

  A large shadow loomed behind Darla, a meaty hand clamping down upon her shoulder.

  “Your five minutes are up, missy,” said McGee. “Time to leave.”

  “Get your hands off me!” Darla shouted, twisting out of the bouncer’s grip. She took a final pained look at Hopper and Sasha, turned and ran out of the bar.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Darla went slipping and stumbling through the darkness, hot tears of anger on her cheeks. She ran down to the creek, following its winding path through the trees. Back at the bar, she heard someone call out her name: had Hopper gone after her? Darla didn’t stop to find out. He could go to hell, as far as she was concerned.

  How could he? After all they had been through! It wasn’t that he had gone back on his word and started drinking again, although that was bad enough. But to take her best friend to the bar with him? The last time Darla had seen Hopper and Sasha together, something about the way they had been goofing around had made her uncomfortable. Was there something going on between them? Would they really do that to her? Could they really be so selfish?

  Darla ran until her legs felt weak and her breaths stung her chest. Finally she stopped, leaning against a tree trunk by the creek. No one was calling out her name now. No one was here at all. The water flowed like black syrup in the moonlight. There was a soft splash in the darkness – Darla looked down to see an otter slipping into the creek. She envied the silent speed with which it swam away. Had her mom felt like this, she wondered, the night she had decided to leave Saffron Hills and never come back?

  “Hello, Darla.”

  Darla spun round. A woman in a thin black cardigan was standing in the rushes by the water’s edge, gazing out over the creek. As Darla peered closer, her eyes widened.

  “Mrs Haas?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  For a long time Patti didn’t answer.

  “I grew up around here, you know,” she said finally. “Down by the water. It might not seem like I’ve moved very far, but the hills might be on the other side of the earth as far as us Creekers are concerned. I was sixteen the first time I ever went up to one of the mansions. To give Walter West his biology assignment.”

  The creek seemed to freeze at the mention of the Angel Taker’s name, the night air taking on a keener edge.

  “You knew Walter?” gasped Darla.

  “We were in a couple of classes together, but we weren’t friends,” Patti replied. “I had the same impression of Walter that everyone else did: a nice boy, courteous, a bit old-fashioned, even. Of course I knew that he was rich, but when I walked around his house and saw all the beautiful things that were in every room, it clean took my breath away. Then Walter asked if I wanted to see his photographs.”

  “In the basement?”

  Patti looked at her sharply. “You know about those? My daughter took you
there, no doubt. I told Sasha to stay away from that house, but she wouldn’t listen to me. When does she? Part of me wishes that someone had put a torch to Tall Pines years ago. Maybe I should have done it. Tell me, were there still pictures on the wall, the landscapes?”

  Darla nodded.

  “I remember looking at those. They were so beautiful … and Walter seemed so gentle… I never thought… ” Patti pulled her cardigan tightly around herself. “He was taking photographs of me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. And then he told me to open his album. There were pictures inside. Of Crystal Mills, the girl who had gone missing. She was dead. Walter was still taking pictures, I think he wanted to see my reaction. Then suddenly he was holding a knife. I grabbed something to try to fight him off, but it was just animal instinct. Deep down, I knew that I was going to die.” She paused. “And then the door at the top of the stairs opened, and Walter’s sister appeared.”

  Amy West. In all that had happened, Darla had almost forgotten about her.

  “At the time I didn’t know it was her,” Patti continued. “Amy went to another school, and it wasn’t like I was going to bump into her at the country club. She was just a stranger, but I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in all my life. Walter froze: I could see his brain ticking over, trying to work out if he could explain what was going on but I was screaming and he was holding a knife, and well…”

  “So what did Amy do?”

  “Nothing, at first. She didn’t even look surprised – almost like she’d known all along. The two of them just stood and stared at each other. I wasn’t even thinking, I just picked up a lighting stand and hit Walter with it, as hard as I could. I caught him in the head, and he fell. There was a lot of blood.”

  Looking at Patti, it was hard to imagine her violently striking anyone, let alone a cold-blooded killer, but Darla thought back to her confrontation with Leeroy by the pit, and how easy it had been to strike him in the heat of the moment. An inch to the left or the right, a softer piece of temple – who knew how close she had come to killing him?