Kill All Kill All

by Craig McNish

  “You were not tempted by the riches my sister offered you?” asked Parkes, recalling some of the information Roach had imparted about how Elizabeth had pleaded for her life and offered Mills such perceived treasures as food, drink and even her favourite toys. “You could have cleaned out the cup...the larder of all our food and drink and even took my father's purse before leaving Ferryhill and making a new life for yourself elsewhere.”

  “When one is not of their own mind, it is not possible to do the things you would wish, only what you are told” Mills replied. “But enough talk of past deeds that neither of us can change! I can only assume, Miss Jane, that you are here because you wish to speak with me regarding a matter of great importance. Forgive me for being so hasty, but would I be right in saying it has something to do with a wedding, perchance?” Now Mills was grinning broadly, almost as if he knew the answer already but wanted to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Parkes felt queasy every time Mills mentioned marriage but knew that this was the reason for her being here. Roach had already began making preliminary arrangements and was expecting Parkes to call her later and confirm the plans. Roach had enjoyed the prospect of arranging a wedding just a little too much for Parkes' liking, but maybe that was for the greater good. She took a deep breath before responding to Mills' question.

  “It is” she said simply. “I have seen William Cutter for the ne'er-do-well that he is. It was never my wish to be wed to William, but that of my father. He thought that a servant was below me, but I do not agree. I wish to be wed for love, not social standing. And while father might not be happy at my decision, it is ultimately mine to make. I choose you, Andrew Mills, to be my husband. That is if you would accept, of course?” Of course he's going to accept, Parkes thought, but wanted to pander to his whims as much as she possibly could. Mills' love for Jane Brass was his greatest weakness, and she needed him to be in as vulnerable a position as possible for their plan to work. After all, while he might fully agree to be married to her she was only about to go through with the ceremony on one condition, and that was something she was about to put to him right now. Parkes could feel her heart thumping furiously in her chest; she took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke again.

  “Of course I will marry you, Miss Jane! Why, you have made me the happiest man in the land just by asking such a question! I would do anything at all to make you my wife!” Parkes suppressed a smile at this last part. Even die for me? Because that's what's going to happen...

  “And you have made me deliriously happy by accepting my proposal, Andrew Mills, but there is something that I would need for you to do first before we wed.” Mills was still smiling, but had frowned ever so slightly. Parkes wasn't sure if it was fear, disappointment or anger in his eyes. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Still, it was imperative he agreed to the request, otherwise the only option they had left was brute force. That was likely to end up with more casualties, even if it worked. Parkes ran the words through in her mind to try and work out a way of lessening their impact.

  “And what would that be?”

  “You killed my whole family” Parkes began, trying to look suitably grief-stricken. “John and Lizzie were taken from me in cold blood, and while my mother and father still lived their hearts were broken beyond repair. It is important to me that you atone for these misdeeds, so I know you are truly sorry for what you have done. It is the only way I could possibly marry you.”

  'She is trying to fool you, Andrew Mills! Do not listen to her – it will be your undoing!' Mills grimaced slightly at the sound of the inner voice as it spoke to him, firing off a burning sensation in his gut to help him heed the warning.

  “Are you all right, my love? You look to be in great pain...”

  “I will...be fine” he said, holding onto his stomach. “It is...nothing to be concerned about. What you ask of me; I am not certain that I will be able to do it.”

  “But you said you would do anything for me, Andrew Mills. Surely you would not lie to the woman that you profess to love so dearly?” Another burst of pain ripped through Mills' body; surely a reminder he should be on his guard, but his desire to be with Jane helped him override the feeling and gradually the pain subsided.

  “Of course not, but there are some things it is not possible for a man to do and I fear this is one of them.”

  “You feel unable to repent your actions? Why, what could I possibly tell our children when they ask where are their aunts and their uncles, their cousins and grandparents? At least they might be able to accept the truth knowing you were not of your own mind when you carried out these deeds, and that it was the work of a higher power.” Parkes had just played her trump card – the mention of 'their' children. If this didn't work, it was little likely anything else would. But it seemed to have the desired effect; Mills' features relaxed and the grin came to the fore again.

  “Our children, you say?”

  “Of course! You expect us to marry and live in this massive place without having it filled with children? Our children? YOUR children? Brave, hard-working sons, and beautiful, intelligent daughters? Why, isn't it the duty of a husband to provide these things, see his family name be carried on for generations to come?”

  “And to see our children's children, teach them how to work this farm so they might take it over when we are too old to work” Mills said enthusiastically, Parkes hoping his imagination was far-reaching enough to map all of this out in his mind in great detail. “Or they could be...”

  “Anything that they wanted to be!” Parkes cut in, trying to keep the enthusiasm flowing. “As long as they are fit and they are healthy, then I will be happy. And we already have a cook, a maid and a nanny in Miriam Cutter, at least in the beginning. If the harvests are good, we will need to hire more hands, but all of these are things we can do together if you were to give your repentance for past misdeeds.”

  “And this is the only way that you will marry me, Miss Jane?”

  “It is.”

  “So what if I was to say we would marry and you never had a choice?” Mills said, the underlying threat in his voice all-too apparent. Parkes held her nerve, but only just.

  “There is always a choice” she replied assertively. “If you were to try and make me do anything against my will, then I would die by my own hand and join my brother and sister. After what happened to them, it would not be difficult for people to think that you had killed me also; they would never stop looking for you and you would surely die a most horrible death at their hands.” But Mills was also firm in his response.

  “I have already fought with your soldiers, and each time have come away victorious. Their power is nothing compared with mine.”

  “And your life will be empty and meaningless without me, or without anyone else who would love you. So which do you prefer?” Parkes could have sworn she saw a flash of red light in Mills' eyes, but if it was there then it was brief. He sighed in resignation, nodded his head.

  “I suppose you are right. I will do as you ask.” Parkes made a great show of exhibiting her delight, ever thankful for her acting talent. And now to finish off the proverbial 'shit sandwich', she thought. The news Mills was hoping to hear had been delivered, the condition he didn't relish undertaking so much spoken of and now it was time to massage his ego again.

  “I have already decided when we should marry.”

  “And when would that be?”

  “Father was to see me and William Cutter wed on Candlemas” she said. “How good it would be if I were to marry my true love on that day instead! I have talked of this day with a friend, and she said it would be an honour for her to aid our preparations. I trust you will agree to my request?”

  “Remind me, what is today's date?”

  “The last day of January...”

  “So we would be married the next day but one?”

  “The day after tomorrow, yes.”

  “A wedding is no small affair, Miss Jane. Would it not be wiser to ta
ke more time to prepare?” Time to make this shit sandwich a little more appetising...

  “You are afraid to marry me so soon, Andrew Mills?”

  “What? No, of course not! My apologies if that is the way I presented myself to you. Please understand that my only concern is to see you be happy. If that is the day you wish us to be wed, then so be it. But what of preparations? Can they be made in time?”

  “Well I have anticipated this moment for a good while now, and so have already begun to make plans” said Parkes. “Not only has the church been arranged, but also the guests and there will even be a TV camera there to film our day. It will be broadcast on television all over the world. Normally, such a thing is the reserve only of the highest royalty, but we have been deemed to be of such importance that we will receive the same treatment. Isn't that wonderful? This day will win us an endless amount of friends, trading partners and massive respect. We will dine with nobleman and lords, and be rich beyond our wildest dreams.” Well if that doesn't seal the deal then nothing will, Parkes thought silently.

  “You are right, of course. But what of payment for all these things? It cannot be cheap, and I am an honest enough man to want to pay my own way.”

  “My friend is going to loan me the money. All I have to do is make a telephone call and it will all be done. We can pay her back later, when we start to make money from the farm.”

  “All right, Miss Jane, you have convinced me. Please, make this 'telephone call' you mention.” Mills looked on in quiet satisfaction, curious at the device his wife-to-be held in her hand and placed to her ear before speaking.

  Detective Roach was slumped in a chair in the incident room, dozing lightly. The loud blast of the ringtone from her mobile phone sat on the desk brought her out of her slumber in a split second, almost causing her to fall backwards out of her seat. Giving her head a quick shake, she picked up the phone and pressed the screen to receive the call

  “Roach...”

  “Michelle, it's Jane. The wedding's a go. Day after tomorrow, just like we planned.” Roach clenched a fist and punched the air in delight.

  “That's great news. Leave it with me and I'll call you back with the details tomorrow, okay?”

  “Fine. You think you can get the TV camera there?”

  “Are you kidding? Lomas would cut her right arm off for a story like this. Trust me, she'll be there. Even the boss might grow to like her” she laughed. “How about you, do you need a ride home? I can send someone to pick you up, or come and get you myself.”

  “Thanks, but no need – I'm going to stop here tonight.” Roach opened her eyes wide.

  “You sure about that? I'm not certain that's a great idea...”

  “If I'm going to keep up the pretence of being Andrew Mills' wife I can't just arrange our wedding then go sneaking off, can I?” Parkes said in a whisper. “Don't worry, he's very traditional; we're sleeping in separate bedrooms and he's hardly likely to put an axe in my back, is he?” Parkes started speaking in a louder voice again. “Be sure to call me back tomorrow when everything is arranged, won't you?”

  “Count on it. Goodnight, Jane – get plenty rest. Oh, and congratulations.”

  “Very funny. Night, Michelle – speak tomorrow.” Roach smiled wryly as she disconnected the call and immediately made another.

  “Hawkins...”

  “Boss, it's me. Jane Parkes has just called – Mills is going for it. Day after tomorrow, just like we planned.”

  “Thank fuck for that. I can't wait to see that bastard either dead or behind bars. So is everything in place to see this through?”

  “Just about. I need to make one or two more calls, including one to your best friend Rachel Lomas...”

  “Lomas? What the fuck are you calling her for? She's lucky I haven't chucked her in bloody jail, the grief she's caused me! What the hell are you up to, Roach?”

  “Look at the bigger picture; we need Mills to believe that all of this is real and that he's going to be remembered for all the right reasons. We get the press in there and not only does it make him look good but Lomas gets the news story of her life. Everybody wins.” Hawkins didn't seem so sure but Roach knew he just didn't want to admit she could be right.

  “Okay, do it. But tell her if she fucks this up I'll have her head on a plate and her body chucked off Elvet Bridge, you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, sir.”

  “Call me tomorrow morning at eight, I want a full briefing. I've barely slept in three days so am off home to try and catch a few hours.” He disconnected the call before Roach had a chance to respond. Now the detective placed another call, which was answered after the third ring.

  “Rachel Lomas? This is detective Roach. Come and see me at the incident room – I'm about to give you the biggest story of your career.”

  Back at the farmhouse, as Mills spoke with great excitement about his plans for the farm and their future, Parkes couldn't help but feel sorry for the young man. He seemed no different to anyone else who was looking forward to building a bright future with someone they loved, but instead she was acting as his executioner. It was going to take massive resolve to ensure she went through with everything as planned. All Parkes wanted now was for it to be over so she could try and return to a normal life.

  *

  The early hours of February the second – Candlemas Day – were taking their toll on many; the main participants of the final act that would hopefully see Andrew Mills banished from their lives forever. Parkes had suffered a massive crisis of confidence and conscience the day before and came close to letting Mills in on their ulterior motive. She had felt massive pangs of guilt as his excitement had continued to grow and was almost willing to forgive him for killing one of her best friends, trying to justify his actions in a hundred different ways. It had taken a call to detective Roach and a few tears before Parkes was finally convinced she would be acting in the best interests of everyone to have Mills taken off the streets. Not that she felt entirely happy leading him to his death, but at least the clarification had helped her remember just who he was. Now, though, with her 'wedding' just a few hours away, Parkes found it impossible to rest. She just needed this to be over.

  Hawkins had still barely slept since telling Roach he'd gone home for an early night two days earlier, and it was driving him crazy. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Mills' face, laughing at him. The young man truly believed he was invincible, and Hawkins was starting to fear he may just be telling the truth. It was impossible to know exactly how it would play out. The thinking behind their plan when it was formed was the usual 'good versus evil' thing, a fact that made Hawkins cringe when he imagined it to be nothing more than a bad horror movie. But this horror movie was absolutely real and good was always the winner in the movies, wasn't it? He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, knowing full well that sleep would be not be coming this night.

  “Shit! SHIT!” Roach gave up on the constant tossing and turning, opting to stare at the bedroom ceiling instead. The tearful call from Parkes to say she'd almost told Mills about their plan had thrown her into a panic; she hadn't even dared tell her boss about it because she knew he'd go ballistic. Instead, Roach had simply pleaded for the girl to see reason and kept reminding her that Andrew Mills was a serial killer. 'He even killed you, remember?' she'd said. 'What's to say he won't do the same again?' And while that sounded somewhat nonsensical, Parkes knew exactly what Roach had meant and promised to keep going. Now that reassurance kept whirling around in Roach's head; it hadn't sounded entirely convincing at the time but if Parkes wanted to spill the beans and ruin everything, how could she be stopped? Maybe she already had and Mills would be lying in wait for them when they went to the church, an axe in each hand and more than happy to slice everyone into little pieces. She shuddered at the thought and pulled her quilt tighter around her, praying that Parkes could hold on that little bit longer.

  The main problem had been trying to get used t
o such a comfortable bed. Even Mister Brass didn't know such luxury as this, Mills had thought. There was so much to learn in this new world and he wanted to embrace it all. He'd already seen a lot in the short time he'd been back here; fireballs that illuminated the roads yet gave off no heat. Carriages that moved without the aid of a horse or an ox, donkey or other beast of burden. A theatre in the corner of the room that showed plays all day and all night. And something called a 'door bell', the device where a button was pressed and a melody sounded to summon the maid to the front door – a wondrous invention indeed! Miss Jane had even shown him something she had called the 'internet' on a device not dissimilar to Miriam Cutter's, the one in which he had buried his axe rather that burying it in her neck. She had described it as 'like every book ever written, every picture ever painted and every piece of music ever composed, all at the very tips of your fingers.' But after only a few minutes he had started to develop a headache and decided to retire for the evening. After all, it wouldn't do for him to take ill on his wedding day, would it? Mills wondered if such a device existed that might allow for his father to be present, and he wished his mother could have witnessed the proudest moment of her son's life. He felt like he had a real reason for living again, and with Mrs Jane Mills by his side nothing could possibly go wrong.

  'FOOL!' The voice took Mills by surprise, the release of searing heat throughout his body even more so. And while it made him grimace and writhe, Mills didn't scream. After all, it was a man's duty to protect his wife; he couldn't be seen to be weak, especially in the face of apparently nothing.