Night is Watching

by Lucy Cameron

  ‘For now, we shall assume Mummy and Daddy are the first victims. This is often how these things start. After all, who hasn’t wanted to kill their folks at one time or another?’ No one laughs.

  Rhys feels the soft fur of the dead vole in his palm.

  His head may explode. Too many thoughts. Too much information.

  ‘So the question is, where has little Jonas been for all this time? He could have been living up there with Mummy and Daddy’s remains but I very much doubt it. He’s not an enigma. He must have lived somewhere. He must still live somewhere. We just need to find him.’ A hand shoots up. Quinn’s eyebrow rises. An acknowledgment.

  ‘What about the biological father?’ asks Constable Bayne.

  ‘Good question, Bayne. Nice to know someone’s awake. He’s currently serving twenty years at Her Majesty’s pleasure for armed robbery. His wife, second wife that is, has nothing to do with him. She was surprised to learn he has a son, pleased her old man could get more years for bigamy, then concerned this son could get dumped on her. Nice sort. Prison records have no mention of anyone remotely fitting Jonas Jones Junior visiting, no record in fact of anyone visiting at all. One to follow up though, if you could please, Spenser.’ The young detective nods. Makes notes. Quinn continues.

  ‘I’ve spoken with Davies’s HR contact at the hospital; he said Jonas hasn’t turned up for work yesterday or today. They called the number he gave them to find it not in use. His contact address does not exist. Up to this point he’s been the model employee. On time. Never absent. Clean. Well presented, the works. They were actually all rather worried about him, glad we were there to help but unable to work out how we had been called in so soon to a missing persons case. I didn’t put them right. If Jonas is our man I don’t want him getting wind we’re on to him.’ Quinn sits.

  ‘We don’t want this creepy little bastard slipping through our fingers.’ He has a point. Jonas does look creepy. ‘This could be massive. As you all know, I don’t believe in coincidence. This boy lived where three people have been murdered, his immediate family no less. Two of them were murdered in the same style as all of our recent victims. He now works in a place that is fast becoming the intersection of all our victims. He’s our number one suspect until we have reason to believe different. The number one priority is to find him. We have no address and no family we can speak to, so we go back over every inch of that cottage and every inch of that hospital. We speak to everyone who ever so much as heard him fart until we find out where the creepy little fuck is.’

  Tasks are handed out for tomorrow morning’s early start. People clap. Someone cheers. It’s suggested they celebrate this victory. It’s small, but a victory nonetheless. Someone shouts,

  ‘It’s the first proper breakthrough since the discovery that Andrews is mad’.

  Rhys excuses himself.

  The more he thinks about it, the more he’s certain, they’re wrong. Whoever this Jonas is, however he’s connected, Kier is more so. Rhys feels it. He doesn’t believe in coincidence either. The more he turns it over in his mind, the more it makes sense. Kier has access to patients, staff and casual workers. People who are weak, defenceless. But why the display? Why attract attention to himself? Why not just kill them? And why has the creature picked him? Is it a taunt? Is he laughing at them all?

  Rhys feels sick. He calls the hospital, asks to speak to the HR manager. The HR manager has finished for the day. Rhys could kick off. Demand his home number, demand his home address. Across the room he sees Davies look in his direction. On the desk his phone vibrates. Anna. The HR manager will be back in tomorrow. Rhys leaves his number, says it’s urgent. Then finally, he heads home.

  45.

  The key slides into the front door. The smell of homemade lasagne greets him. He drops his keys into the bowl beside the front door. Anna has moved the coat rack back.

  Rhys is so damn tired. The hours of sleep stolen on Elsie’s knee feel a lifetime ago. He’s glad Anna and he are at least pretending to be friends. No more fighting, at least not tonight. His mind has raced all day. Now he’s exhausted. So many things to think about. All he wants to do is sleep, sleep the undisturbed sleep of last night. He’ll speak to the hospital first thing – no he’ll see Elsie first thing. He’ll have had time to get all these new facts straight in his mind.

  Then he hears the laughter.

  Anna’s laughter floats out of the living room. It’s strange and beautiful. He hasn’t heard her laugh like that for a very long time.

  Slowly Rhys pushes the door to the living room open. There he is.

  Kier Finnegan.

  Kier Finnegan sits in the middle of the sofa. Arm outstretched along the back. Glass of red wine in one hand. Anna sits to his left. She is side on so she can better see him. Louise is to his right. Both of them laugh. Play with their hair. Harry is stood next to the door. His back is against the wall. His eyes are fixed on Kier. Fear freezes him rigid.

  Everything moves in slow motion.

  Kier’s head turns towards Rhys. Eye to eye. Smile dark on his lips. The creature is in his home. He is sitting there on the sofa, beating like a black heart.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing in my house?’ The words out before they even notice he’s here.

  ‘Rhys.’ Anna rises. Her face drops from pleasure to anger in a second. Kier doesn’t move. He slowly raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be so rude. Kier is our guest. I invited him.’

  ‘Dad!’ Louise and Harry say the word in unison, their meanings poles apart. Harry is at Rhys’s side. Clings to his leg.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing in my house?’ Rhys’s eyes don’t leave the creature. Kier rises, one fluid movement. He smiles apologetically at Anna. His presence is huge. It pushes against Rhys from across the room.

  ‘As your good wife said, she invited me over for a drink. A welcome to the neighbourhood as it were.’

  ‘You are not welcome in this house or this neighbourhood.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Anna says the words, Kier hands her his wine glass.

  ‘Thank you so much for the hospitality, I can see I am causing distress to your husband. This is the last thing I want so I shall leave.’

  ‘You can’t be fucking serious? The last thing you want to do is cause distress?’ Rhys takes a step towards him. ‘I won’t say it again. Get out of my house!’

  ‘Rhys, please.’ Anna’s voice is strained. Rhys doesn’t care.

  ‘You know damn well why I don’t want him in the house and so does he,’ Rhys points from one to the other.

  ‘Rhys, you’re embarrassing yourself and me. Why are you doing this?’ Her teeth clench. Tears glisten at the edges of her eyes.

  ‘Please.’ The creature holds up its hands. ‘I do not want this. I shall leave.’ He leans in close to Anna. Kisses her on the cheek. He doesn’t break eye contact with Rhys. ‘Thank you, Anna. I hope to see you again.’ Just before he pulls back, he licks his lips.

  Rhys is across the room in seconds. He lunges for Kier’s chest. Sends him crashing back into the fireplace. Anna shouts for him to stop. Louise screams. Harry could have cheered. The bastard goes down. Throws his hands up to defend himself. Feigns shock. Pretends to be weak. The impact sends the candlesticks and family photos flying.

  ‘Don’t you go near her, you hear me!’ Kier cowers beneath him, his face a shroud of lies. Is he smirking? Anna shoves Rhys aside. Helps Kier to his feet. Apologises over and over again. She shakes her head. Shouts at the children to get to their rooms. Shouts at Rhys that she doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. That he seriously needs help.

  ‘Get out!’ Rhys knows his voice is loud. The children will be afraid. He ignores Anna. Shoves her aside to get to the creature. Kier has the audacity to stand there, looking like he’s the victim. Rhys pushes Kier towards the door. Kier again holds up his hands in apology.

  ‘Get out!’

  They’re in the hall. They’re through the door. They’re in the front porch. Rhys hears Harry’
s screams for him punctuated by the sound of Louise’s bedroom door slamming.

  Kier turns slowly. Fixes Rhys with a cold hard stare. He sniffs. Looks up at the garlic clove that dangles above their heads. He barely conceals a smirk as he rips it down. Tosses it into Rhys’s face. He hisses. Pulls back his lips to reveal long white incisors.

  ‘Don’t believe everything you read,’ he growls into Rhys’s ear. ‘Nice moves in there. Shame your wife doesn’t agree. You could have really hurt… yourself… and remember, the clock is ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock.’ Then instantly his face is of innocent hurt. He flinches as if Rhys may hit him again. Rhys is aware of Anna at his shoulder.

  Rhys turns. Shouts in her face. ‘Did you see that?’ She must have seen that. She ignores him.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice cracks. ‘I’m just so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ Kier’s voice is smooth. ‘I understand honestly. I should never have come.’ To Rhys, ‘I’m sorry if somehow I’ve offended you.’

  ‘Get the fuck away from my house!’ Rhys screams again. He does not care. What the hell’s going on? How can this be happening? What has Anna done? Why has she done it?

  Kier shakes his head and crosses the street.

  Rhys slams the front door so hard the frame rattles. He turns on Anna.

  ‘Why did you do that? Didn’t you see him just then?’

  ‘Why did I do that?’ Her mouth hangs open.

  ‘Yes, why did you do that? Why the hell did you invite that creature into our home? Don’t you know anything? We’re not safe here now and that’s because of you.’ A tear rolls down her cheek. Good, well she should cry after the danger she’s put herself and the children in. ‘Didn’t you see him in there? The way he behaved? He was mocking me, mocking us. Pretending to be all weak and helpless, as if he’s weak and helpless. Does he look weak and helpless? I told you what he said to me, his threats.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Rhys. Have you heard yourself? Really, have you? All I saw in there was you acting like a lunatic. I was having a really nice time. I was doing something I was enjoying, something to try and help you feel better, help you see he’s a normal, everyday man. But oh no, you bowl in and ruin it. All I saw in there was you terrorising some poor man, some poor man who was only here because I invited him. Who do you think you are, behaving like that in our home?’ Rhys can only stare. How can she be so wrong? So naive? ‘In fact, you get out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad don’t leave us. He might come back, Dad.’ Harry trembles.

  ‘You heard, get out!’ Anna opens the front door. Gives him a hard shove into the night. ‘That…’ She points back into the house. ‘… is your doing. He’s eight years old and doesn’t need this. I don’t need this, but don’t worry I’ll tidy up after you, again. Right now I don’t want to look at you. I don’t even want to think about you, so you get out, go away and come back when you can behave like a rational human being.’

  She slams the door in his face. Simple as that.

  46.

  For a police station, it’s a lot easier to gain access to the back areas than he imagined. That is the problem with the law these days. It makes it far too easy for criminals.

  Not that he’s complaining. Not at all.

  It takes him no time to find what it is he is looking for. Carelessly discarded, as he’d expected it would be.

  There are dozens of photographs on the wall.

  He leaves as he arrived, in the shadows.

  In the shadows, where he likes to be.

  47.

  It’s cold outside. He can see his breath. The streets are empty. It’s long past kicking out time. Long past bedtime. Only those up to no good are left. He likes it outside. It’s easier to breathe. The buzz in his blood seems quieter when he’s outside.

  The stone of the wall is cool beneath his fingers as he watches her. She’s young, too young to be out alone at this hour. Her thick auburn hair flows down her back. Her cheap patent heels clip. Her hips in her short silver skirt swing. She’s drunk and lost. Has spent her taxi money on cheap drinks. She picks her friends badly, to be left alone, trying to make her way home long after dark.

  Not quite alone. Not ever going to get home.

  She really should have listened to her mother, really should have left when her father offered to pick her up. Sometimes these lessons are learnt just a little too late. Fate has just dealt her a very poor hand indeed.

  It would be a lie to say he isn’t excited as he watches her. It’s been a very long time since he’s been this spontaneous. At first he isn’t sure if it is for him, but needs must, as they say.

  She’s so perfect. How can a place be so right for one person yet so wrong for another?

  A discarded can clatters as he kicks it in the shadows. She turns, the auburn-haired girl, a look of panic in her eye. He feels himself come alive.

  The hammer is in his pocket. His fingers wrap around it.

  He knew he should have left the hammer at home.

  Naughty little hammer. Naughty little boy. Naughty little vile boy.

  48.

  Rhys doesn’t mean to cry. But once he starts, he can’t stop.

  Anna pushes him out of the house. Anna forbids his return. He shouts and bangs. Lights across the street come on.

  Then he’s in his car and moving, fast. He drives aimlessly. Drives out the anger. Lights and houses fly past. Through the window everything blurs. He realises it isn’t the speed, but the tears. He pulls onto a small grass clearing. He isn’t sure where he is, doesn’t care. Thick hedges line the roadside so he must be outside the city. Tears drip off the bottom of his chin.

  ‘I’m not mad.’ He speaks out loud. ‘I’m not mad.’ Over and over, a reassuring mantra.

  Kier was in his house, sitting on his sofa, laughing with his family. Kier who is in his dreams and now his waking moments. Kier who is very real, can make Jenny real.

  Kier… the Nosferatu?

  Rhys cries harder. He realises he believes but has no idea what that means, he just knows what he has seen, has no doubt. Andrews believes too and it cost him everything.

  Rhys needs to see Elsie. Why hasn’t he gone straight to her? That was the plan? No, wait, go to the hospital, not that he’s sure what would achieve, not now. Go to Elsie then?

  But what about Andrews? Rhys sniffs hard, wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

  He’ll go and see Andrews. That makes sense. Andrews seeks the creature. Rhys needs to find out more about Andrews’s theory, the one that a Nosferatu is responsible for the murders.

  A Nosferatu or Kier?

  How much does Andrews believe? How much does he know? Is Kier responsible for the killings? Is that possible? Does the grieving daughter, Linda, confuse the image of Jonas Jones with Kier? Rhys should have shown her the printed image, held her face, fingers pressing into the flesh, until she was sure. Davies would not have let that happen.

  ‘I’m not mad.’ The car is full of the words. Rhys could reach out and touch them. ‘I’m not mad.’ He wants to laugh. ‘I’m not mad.’

  A rush of cold air as the passenger door opens. The seat creaks. A large ornate handkerchief is held out in a long white hand.

  ‘If you continue to sit in the car crying and talking to yourself, people will think you are. Please stop, it’s not becoming.’ Kier stares at him with those hard, blue eyes. His hand and the handkerchief fall to his lap when Rhys doesn’t take it.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ The snot bubbles in Rhys’s throat. He swallows hard.

  ‘I thought we had a little unfinished business following your altogether abhorrent behaviour earlier.’ Kier tilts his head, looks at him. Rhys opens his mouth. Realises he has no idea what to say. Kier shakes his head sadly.

  ‘How did you sleep the other night at the old crone’s? Like a baby, I’ll bet. No need to thank me, I was otherwise engaged. Bet you missed me though, in the silence?’ Rhys turns his face, stares straight ahead. Te
eth clenched. Forbidding the realisation to show on his face. ‘She really does love you, doesn’t she? Mad old thing. Do you know what she asked me? To leave you alone, she said I could have everything she owned, even her,’ Kier winces, ‘if I would just leave you alone. She ran, well shuffled right across the street to beg.’

  Kier’s laugh is cruel. Rhys’s heart sinks lower.

  ‘Bless her cotton socks eh?’ Kier leans in close. ‘Doesn’t she realise I took everything I wanted from her a long time ago? I have no interest in her if she has so little interest in herself.’ Kier looks nonchalantly down at his nails. Rhys stares at his own reflection in the windshield. On the edge of his peripheral vision, Kier’s reflection burns like a bright white orb.

  ‘Leave her alone.’ Rhys’s voice cracks. Kier shakes his head. ‘Why are you doing this? Why me?’ Rhys is drained. The sensation hits him suddenly. He can hardly keep his eyes open.

  ‘Let me tell you a story.’ Kier sits back in the seat.

  ‘I don’t want to listen to stories. I want you to explain and get out of my car.’

  ‘The story is the explanation.’ The ice in the voice. ‘You really must learn to be more patient. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

  ‘Once upon a time, in a not so very far away land, there lived a woman. This woman was the most beautiful in all the land. Okay, so I’m being indulgent, she was the most beautiful woman that the man, the Nosferatu, I, had ever seen.’ Kier’s face becomes flat, expressionless, smooth as marble.

  ‘This is back when people were more open-minded, believed things people these days do not.’ Kier opens an eye, looks at Rhys. ‘We could argue the pros versus the cons for this all night but we shall not.’ He closes his eye again.

  ‘The concept of Nosferatu was not unusual at this time, although it did not make people less afraid. The Nosferatu central to this tale, me, fell in love, not lust, with the woman the first time he saw her. Her raven black hair, her pink, full skin.

  ‘This creature knew the woman would not love him were she to know who he truly was, so he hid his true nature and over time the woman fell in love with him too. They were so happy.’ Kier’s eyes flick back and forth behind his eyelids.