Sauer followed Hobbs down the hallway to where the woman lay in a bundle, whining. They stepped over her and pushed open the door of the first room. It was a bedroom.
“Why do these people not have lights in their homes in this day and age?” Sauer asked Hobbs. He knew where his flashlight was, in the glove compartment of the Turtle. He looked as Hobbs scanned the room with his flashlight. They retreated back into the hallway. The old woman was still a quiet bundle on the floor. They walked further down the hall. The next room did not have a door. An old, floral curtain hung on a sagging piece of string in the doorway. Halfway down, the curtain was tied in a knot. Hobbs entered the room first.
Their neck hairs stood on end. Step for step, they scanned the room over the shotgun barrels. They saw nothing, not a soul.
It can’t be. He must be here. Their information was waterproof. He must be here. Heidi said so.
Both detectives faced each other and lowered their gun barrels. Sauer signaled to Hobbs that the old lady must be alone. Hobbs shook his head and pointed his right index finger at the floor. “He is here!
Sauer shrugged his shoulder. “Where can he be?”
An immense pain hit Hobbs in the back and he swung around. The monstrous hag was attacking him from behind with a heavy piece of wood. He shoved her away with his right hand, but she kept coming. She kept screaming and flinging abuse at him with each approach, attempting to hit him again and again.
“Stop that you stupid bitch,” he growled and slapped the wood from her hand, “before you get hurt!”
Now she went for his face, pulling at his hair, grabbing his cheeks and nose. Hobbs tried his best to shove her away from him. Her attack was crazier. She grabbed Hobbs by the neck and levered herself up to him, her mouth open, ready to bite.
Hobbs lifted his shotgun and slammed the back of it into the old hag’s open mouth. The sound of crushing teeth and bone were sickening. Sauer heard the crash and knew that it would have hurt a lot.
The old hag fell to the floor gurgling and dazed. Blood streamed from her mouth. She gagged and tried to get up.
Sauer watched all this in amazement. Still, neither said a word. The old hag rolled onto her side, blood dripping from her mouth and making strange, gagging noises. They watched her for a while, making sure that she would live.
Sauer tapped Hobbs on the shoulder. He pointed towards an entrance at the end of the hall. Hobbs stepped past Sauer and walked quietly to the entrance. It was a kitchen. The walls were painted a sickly yellow color. Hobbs remembered that the old people always used to do it. They believed it would keep the flies at bay. A rough wooden table stood to the left side of the kitchen, next to a coal stove. There were two chairs pushed next to the table. A makeshift wooden case held a clutter of crockery. The tiles on the floor were old and much stained. Sauer pointed to what he suspected to be a back door. With the gun barrels trained in front of them, they approached the door. Hobbs turned the handle. It was locked.
“Light here for me,” Sauer said behind him. Sauer searched the wooden case and found a long, flat-head screwdriver. He gave his shotgun to Hobbs. Using both hands, Sauer shoved the screwdriver in between the door and the frame and wiggled it. Hobbs watched him as the levering movements got wider and wider. Soon, Sauer pulled the screwdriver out, and with a mighty pull, opened the door.
It was indeed the back door. A short passage led to the outside. Old milking cans and bags of feed were stacked again the walls. Almost opposite the back door hung another curtained entrance. This curtain was not tied to one side. It hung to the ground.
Hobbs handed Sauer his gun back. Hobbs walked to the curtain. With his gun barrel he opened the curtain and slowly looked inside. It was a narrow bathroom. In the far corner was a toilet. Next to it was a bath. Hobbs walked slowly into the bathroom. The toilet was leaking slowly into the bowl. Hobbs scanned the room with his flashlight and then froze. There was a partial boot print on the toilet seat. He waved his hand at Sauer and pointed to it. The two men were so silent now that their own breathing sounded loud. Hobbs and Sauer looked up simultaneously. Above the bath was a loft opening. The door was carefully placed back into its place. It was clean and tidy, unlike the rest of the bathroom that had dusty cobwebs decorating the walls.
Bingo!
“Where could that bloody Harper be?” Sauer said extra loud to Hobbs. “That slimy bastard probably heard us approaching and ran into the dark. I think we should call it a night and come back in the morning.”
The two detectives walked noisily out of the bathroom, through the kitchen and into the hallway. The hag was still in a bundle gagging. They stepped over her and walked through the living room out the door. Immediately, the motion detection light went on. They walked down the overgrown garden path and into the night. As they walked, they discussed how they would come back in the morning with a back-up team and what else they were going to do to Harper when they found him.
About half a mile into the dark, they stopped. Hobbs turned off his flashlight. They waited. It took a few minutes for the evening noises to get back to normal. The crickets started screeching again. Frogs croaked somewhere and a dog barked in the distance.
Slowly, they started walking back to the house, quietly. They knew the path now. The dogs picked up their scent and started barking.
They did not enter the yard through the front gate. They walked next the old, wire fence until they were on the side of the house. Sauer stepped on the fence, flattening it immediately. Hobbs stepped into the yard and Sauer followed. Avoiding the motion detection lights, they paced themselves until they reached the wall of the house. Both breathed out slowly as they stood with their backs to the wall. By now their eyes were used to the dark. The roof over hung the wall by a good half meter. On their knees, they crept back towards the front of the house. They quietly passed the corner where the motion detection light was, careful not to make excessive movements. Hobbs stopped and undid his shoes. Sauer followed suit. They knew that their rubber-soled shoes would squeak on the cement floors.
They skulked across the veranda, back into the living room. The door was still hanging off its hinges. There they stood, their shotguns trained into the dark and down the hallway, waiting for their killer. Sauer sat down in a stuffed chair. Hobbs went down on his haunches.
The silence seemed like hours. The old hag was quiet now. Crickets screeched into the night. Sauer could see the stars through the open door.
They heard the slight shuffle of faint footsteps and both looked up. It was coming from the loft.
We knew it! He is up there, he is up there!
They skulked down the hall, stepping over the body of the old woman. She snored softly. By now, their eyes were used to the dark. They kept their eyes on the ceiling looking for other loft openings. The hag’s room had none.
“Let’s shoot the bastard down,” Sauer mouthed to Hobbs.
Hobbs shook his head. Together they moved quietly to the second bedroom. Sauer’s right foot went wet as he stepped into a liquid.
Blood? Vomit? Piss? He took a deep breath. Keep it together—don’t hurl now.
They crept into the second bedroom. They crossed it silently and walked towards the built-in closet.
The door creaked as he opened it. Sauer breathed out hard. Hobbs looked inside the closet for the loft entrance, nothing.
They tiptoed to the kitchen, nothing.
Then back to the living room, and nothing.
The only entrance to the loft was in the bathroom.
Moving silently, they again stepped over the hag and walked into the bathroom. The loft covering had been removed.
“What now?” Sauer asked Hobbs. The captain waved his hand at Sauer, indicating that he must relax. Then Hobbs pointed to the ceiling and mouthed, “He is up there.”
There they sat on their haunches, looking at the loft opening. Nothing stirred. All was quiet.
On a stake-out, a few minutes feels like an hour. A soft shuffle came from the
loft. It made both detectives stand up straight, barrels pointing at the loft opening.
Hobbs turned to Sauer and whispered, “I’ll climb up.”
“No, I will go up. You are too personally involved,” Sauer mouthed back at Hobbs.
Hobbs’s eyes trailed down Sauer’s body. “You are too fat to fit through the damn trap door!”
Hobbs climbed onto the side of the bath. The top of the hot water heater was dust free, indicating frequent use. He gave his gun to Sauer and inched himself onto it. He peeked through the loft. It was pitch-dark.
He lowered himself and indicated to Sauer that he wanted his gun. He then scaled the heater further.
Sauer stood in stillness as Hobbs disappeared through the loft door.
Hobbs lay silently in the loft for a moment, orientating himself and listening for sounds. He was sure Henry must have heard him. He deliberately slowed his breathing down to calm himself.
The soft shoveling sound came from behind him. Hobbs unstrapped his flashlight from his shoulder and flicked it on. The flashlight threw beams of light straight onto the handsome face of Henry James Harper. The killer was but a few meters away from Hobbs. Henry froze.
Hobbs’s first thought was the absolute innocence on the face. The eyes were the color of the sea on a calm day. His thick hair was pitch-black.
Hobbs cocked the shotgun. Henry did not move. He stared straight into the flash light, like a trapped rabbit. “I found him,” Hobbs shouted at Sauer.
“Tell the bastard to come down or I will break this ceiling apart and fetch him myself,” bellowed Sauer.
The light beam never left Henry’s face and he did not budge once.
“I want you to crawl towards me.” Hobbs’s voice was cold and calm. Henry did not move.
“I said,” Hobbs repeated louder, “that I want you to crawl towards me. Now!”
A slight smile appeared on Henry’s face.
“He is not moving!” Hobbs screamed at Sauer.
A deafening sound ripped the ceiling apart. In the small beam of light and the dust, Hobbs failed to see the shotgun behind Henry’s back. A second shot followed. Each shot missed Hobbs by a few inches. Pieces of ceiling and plaster floated all over the bathroom down onto Sauer.
“What the fuck is happening up there?” Sauer screamed.
“He shot my flashlight out,” screamed Hobbs.
“Get the fuck down from there…” Sauer screamed at Hobbs.
Hobbs fell face first through the loft. He landed on the toilet. His shotgun clattered into the bath. Sauer’s eyes never left the loft opening.
“You can do nothing to me,” Henry said in a deep voice. “I am insane.” He gave a mock laugh.
Sauer placed his shotgun on his shoulder, aimed the barrel in the direction of the voice and pulled the trigger. Huge pieces of ceiling collapsed exposing roof beams.
“You better come down, or I will shoot you down,” Sauer growled and reloaded his shot gun. Hobbs struggled up and picked up his shotgun. Two more shots ripped into the ceiling.
In the loft, Henry held his head between his arms with each shot as the debris flew over him.
“He is crawling into the direction of the living room,” Hobbs shouted as he heard the killer crawling over the roof beams.
Sauer ran through the kitchen, down the hall and stepped on the old woman. She groaned. In the living room, Sauer took a deep breath to silence his heartbeat, listening for any sound. His shotgun was trained at the ceiling. He waited for noises. Hobbs stood halfway down the hall.
As his heartbeat quieted, Sauer could hear faint cursing.
“Where are you?” he screamed into the dark. “You better come down. If I have to come get you, you will sure go out this door, feet first.”
“You can’t do anything to me,” Henry replied from the dark, “I am insane. You can’t kill an insane man.”
“Watch me,” shouted Sauer as he pumped two more bullets into the roof.
Henry screamed. He must have gotten hit.
“You shot him in the leg,” Hobbs shouted from the hall. Through the broken ceiling he saw Henry clutching a bloodied foot. “Stand back,” Hobbs shouted at Sauer, “I am going to shoot the ceiling open for him to fall down.” Three shots followed in closed succession. Henry fell onto the carpet of the living room with a thud. Long before the dust settled, Henry could make out the barrel of a shotgun close to his face. Then he recognized Sauer’s face.
“Get up,” Sauer commanded.
“I can’t. My foot hurts.”
“Get up, you dumb fuck!”
Henry struggled to his feet. Sauer saw that the wound to his foot was not serious.
“Why are you naked?” Sauer commanded again.
“It’s better this way.”
“Better for what and whom? So your cellmates will have easier access to your lily-white ass?”
Hobbs stood behind Henry. His gun was also trained on the killer. Henry’s eyes became darker as he eyed Hobbs.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” he asked. “I am insane.”
“Now, why would we do that?” Sauer said sarcastically “Maybe because we want the desperate and lonely women out there to sleep well.”
Henry laughed out loud. “They will never lock me up. They all think I am insane. I am a monster. Look at this. Look where I grew up. What will the courts think? ‘Poor boy—adopted by monsters, abused, used, molested, terrorized’…I will give the court a great spiel about poor little me. Besides, have you forgotten that I have a hot advocate on my side? They will never lock me up.” Henry laughed.
“They may send me to the loony bin for a while, but I will be out within a matter of years. And then I will be back. There are many women out there dying for me to fuck them to death. You would be surprised how sick people really are.”
Sauer and Hobbs looked at the arrogant Henry in silence.
“I want you to look at me,” Sauer said.
“Why?’ Henry asked as he sat up.
“Because my partner is now going to shoot you.”
A single gunshot hit Henry in the back of the head. Brains and blood splashed on the walls and furniture of the living room.
Sauer looked down at his pants. Some of Henry’s brains splashed on it. He felt his stomach turn and walked out the door.
Chapter Fifty
Johannesburg:
Henry Harper, believed to be the Face Lifter, was shot dead last night by members of the Serious Crime Unit.
According to a source, the police went to Harper’s house last night to question him about the violent attack on Doctor Jeanine Mayer, a forensic psychologist who assisted the police in the earlier arrest of Harper.
The source said that Harper shot at the investigating officers. Several warning shots were fired into the ceiling of the house where Harper was hiding before he was fatally wounded.
Sauer did not read the article any further. He threw the newspaper down and said to Hobbs, “Is it not time for lunch?”
About the Author:
Dorothy Knight was born in Messina, a town bordering Zimbabwe. After spending her childhood years in Swaziland, the author’s family moved to Pretoria where she finished her schooling at Afrikaans Hoër Meisieskool. She went on the study Journalism and has worked in the field for more than two decades. She has won several awards for investigative journalism and photography.
After spending sixteen years living on a farm in the deep rural areas of South Africa, she has moved back to Pretoria where she now resides with her two children.
She may be contacted on [email protected]
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