The man winked, and Sam drew back in horror. All at once, he was a teenager again, throwing up in his toilet while the room closed in on him. The vision of Tina’s bloated face, and the smell of her blood was more than he could bear.
‘You leave my mother alone, you sick bastard. Just stay away from her, you hear me?’ Sam’s voice grew louder, and the guard approached their table.
‘Everything all right here?’
‘I want to go back to my cell,’ Sam said, stumbling back, his chair crashing to the ground.
The man shrugged innocently. ‘We can speak another time.’
34 Chapter Thirty-four
Frank - 1993 - 1995
The jury echoed a unanimous verdict of guilty in the packed courtroom, and the disgust on their faces was evident. The admission in interview, his threatening behaviour, and the evidence that linked him to each of the murders ensured Frank Foster was going to jail. Frank’s barrister wished for the tenth time that he had never taken on the case. Against his advice, Frank had changed his plea to not guilty. Without the evidence he had stupidly handed over to the police, Frank may have had a fighting chance with his excuse of police oppression in interview.
Standing in the mahogany panelled pew, Frank remained deadpan as he was sentenced to serve several life sentences, but his insides felt like the inner workings of a faulty clock, wound tightly by anger and terror in equal measures. Standing tall against the backdrop of the sniffles and cries of ‘how could you?’ from the public gallery, he measured his breathing as he wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. The same fleeting thoughts swept through his mind as he gripped the lip of the bench before him. One day he would speak to the reporters in the back gallery and they would get it all straight. After all, the police were allowed to kill people, so why couldn’t he? He should be getting a medal for cleaning up the streets, not being locked away. If it weren’t for him, the drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes would still be roaming the streets. Not to mention the kiddie fiddler he had sent to kingdom come. Killing them had sent a message, and the others had curbed their activities while he was in charge. It was a shame he couldn’t have included crooked police officers in that line up.
Frank glared at the public gallery. They dared label him a monster for enjoying the killings. Those people sitting in judgement had no idea of the real world. His work was part of the natural order, and it was only fitting he take satisfaction from it. If only he had more time to recruit others to carry it on. Now things would go back to the way they had always been, and it was all the fault of the bitch that had put him here. There was one positive aspect that gave him hope. Meeting others just like him. Best of all, he would be serving time with the notorious ‘Demon.’
Frank had first discovered the ‘Demon’ as a starring feature in one of his detective magazines. The man, originally known as Percival Smith, was a legend in his eyes. An unassuming bank clerk, Percival was happily married up until the day of his forty-fifth birthday when he was arrested for the murder of over a dozen people. Impressive, given that his killing spree had begun just six months earlier. Investigations revealed that he was heavily involved in the occult. His wife Cheryl stated in her interview with Crime magazine that Percival’s personality had undergone a complete transformation in recent months. Instead of the kind caring man she married, he had become cruel, rough and demanding in the bedroom. Upon entry to prison, he became as much of a recluse as he could in such circumstances. His padded flesh disappeared as he ate only enough food to sustain life. With his balding skin and hollowed eyes, he was a walking skeleton. Percival killed the only man that befriended him by slitting his throat in his sleep. Ten years later, and he was still housed in a solitary cell.
It took a long time for Frank to even get close to him. The Demon fascinated and frightened Frank in equal measure and he seized every opportunity to be near the man on the rare moments he was forced to exit his cell for food and exercise. Then came the day the Demon crooked a bony finger and invited him inside. The small space seemed colder than his own as he sat on the hard chair next to the metal-framed bed. The Demon regarded him with some curiosity and Frank felt his heart pound as his soulless eyes bored into his mind, teasing out his inner thoughts and fears.
‘What brings you to my door?’ His tainted breath was hot on Frank’s face as he leaned over him, his back bent in a bell-shaped curve.
Frank cleared his throat, unprepared for the moment he had waited for. ‘I wanted to meet you.’ You idiot, Frank thought, of all the stupid things to say.
The man made an attempt to laugh but the alien sound came out as a raspy gasp. He tapped a heavy finger on Frank’s shoulder, which he felt all the way down to his toes. ‘You name yourself the Grim Reaper. You are a mere mortal, are you not?’
Frank choked on his words as the Demon stood over him, smelling of corpse and looking no better. Feeling like a trapped animal, he stuttered his words. ‘I … I do what I believe is right. You killed those people for the same reason I did; they were of no value to the world.’
Again the rasping sound. ‘Pay no heed to those scurrilous tales. I killed for no other reason than that it was my enjoyment to do so. But it is only a matter of time until mortality catches up with you, is it not?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Frank’s mouth was dry and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. His feet felt glued to the floor, and he could not have left, even if he had wanted to.
‘Would it please you to carry on your work without fear of reprisal? Such is within my power. But leave me now. You will return tomorrow.’
Frank twisted restlessly in his narrow bunk bed that night. The Demon scared him, but freedom of any kind was tantalising bait. He returned the next day, and every day he was able. The Demon stated that he had been in existence for hundreds of years. He had overcome death and could show Frank how to do the same. The claims were outlandish. Surely it could not be true? A roaming entity, using human bodies upon will? Frank asked the only question he could think of.
‘Why do you choose to spend time rotting away in prison? Why not inhabit the body of someone who is free?’
The Demon stood behind Frank as he faced the window, his words whispering in his ear. ‘I am free to leave whenever I wish. But there is no better place to observe the darker side of human nature, is there?’
Frank shrugged, unsure of the question. He did not always understand the Demon’s use of language, but he had no doubt of the conviction in the words.
Frank’s visits to the Demon became a regular occurrence as he taught him the ways of the occult. The prison guards seemed happy to leave them to it, although Frank would not have wanted to share a cell with the man. He was not someone you turned your back on at night.
A blood moon hung in the sky as Frank entered his cell one night, and there was an energy he had not felt before. His perception of the supernatural had grown, and with it a sense of dark adventure ahead. Even the Demon seemed different, rubbing a hand over his marble-white skull as he inhaled deeply. ‘Can’t you smell it? Feast on the misery. It’s a veritable banquet.’
‘Yes,’ Frank said, staring at the newly drawn occult symbols chalked on the cement floor. He knew better than to question them. He avoided all eye contact with his mentor. The dark hollow wells revealed a glimpse of the Demon’s soul – a thick black treacle cloaked around a skeletal body. The memory of what lay behind those eyes would haunt him forever.
The Demon’s tendons stood out on his neck as he spoke, a visible pulse throbbing with life from his pallid flesh. ‘We must make haste. But heed my words before departing from this earthly plane.’ His words grew hypnotic, and Frank felt as if he was being enveloped in a thick web. Talk of departure from life should have sent warning bells to his brain but they had been numbed by the presence of the Demon as he spoke.
‘You cannot harbour all your memories if you are to inhabit another. Take your most valuable possessions; anger, hate, and lust. When you depart your body and
feel your existence carry you, you must first find a host. Houses and buildings are ripe for habitation, but not as satisfying a haunt as people. But taking a human as your steed carries its own risk. To hurt your host is to hurt yourself. You are but a parasite in that state.’
‘Is Percival your host?’ Frank asked, his words feeling like they were coming from another room.
‘Yes. I am one with him. He gave himself freely and I will stay until his body withers and dies. Percival was not the meek husband his wife thought him to be. He developed an interest in the occult through a very dark young lady. She introduced him to the world of ouija boards and that was how he summoned me. I gradually took over every aspect of his life. His wife was quite delicious you know, our time together was most enjoyable.’
Frank felt a flutter of excitement. The Demon really was telling the truth. He had had his doubts at first, but now he could feel the truth of it from the chill in the air to the gentle probing that reached every cell in his body. It called him in teasing whispers. ‘I think I understand. I can come back after death, but I need a host to sustain me. I can briefly use others and feed off their pain. But if I am to experience true existence, to live again on the earthly plane in flesh and blood as you do, I need to conjoin with someone who accepts me.’
‘Yes, but if you merge and they deny your existence, they will expel you from this world. You must give your host a reason for letting you in.’
‘I understand.’ Frank said, the thought of freedom tantalising his soul.
‘Then I do believe it’s time,’ the Demon said, clamping his cold clammy hand over Frank’s mouth.
In the cold dark cell with the smell of rotting flesh lingering in his nostrils, Frank did not want to die. He should have expected it, but the slash of the razor across his throat still came as a shock. Trying to stem the sudden flow of blood from his veins, Frank clawed at his killer for mercy.
The Demon’s grey-blue face smiled down upon him, cradling his body as the warm blood soaked his clothing. ‘Shhh,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t fight it. Control your fear. Focus your power. You are the Grim Reaper, are you not?’
As Frank’s life drained away, the heaviness lifted as he left his physical body behind. Writhing, he recognised Gloria’s soft voice whispering his name from far away. Frank fought the pull, resisting the urge to go towards the light. His hatred rose to the surface, breaking away in brittle black splinters from his soul. Birthing a new existence, he grew in strength. His formless shape had all the senses, and the freedom of flight. He rose to the prison ceiling and beyond, free from the confines of bars, free to live again. Leaving his killer behind, he fled the prison walls as the dull ring of the alarm alerted prison guards to the death scene. The Demon, now naked in his cell, was bathed in the blood of Franks’ lifeless body. But he was no longer Frank. He was the Grim Reaper, and he sped through the night searching for his host.
35 Chapter Thirty-five
The station car park had been turned into an ice rink by the overnight freeze, and the elderly caretaker walked with a stoop as he threw handfuls of rock salt from his black plastic bucket. He waved at Jennifer, hastily throwing some in her direction for fear she might slip and fall in the snow.
Jennifer slung the loose strap of her handbag over her shoulder before thanking the caretaker. Her choice of footwear was not the most sensible given the weather, but she loved the feeling of power a good pair of heels gave her. Judging by his steel toe capped footwear, he neither understood nor worried about such things.
She pressed her tag against the back door scanner and a soft buzzing vibration came from the bottom of her bag. ‘Who’s ringing at this hour of the morning? It’s not even eight o clock yet,’ she muttered, as she searched for her phone. Her heart gave a flutter as she glanced at the unknown number lighting up her display. ‘Hello,’ she said, steeling herself for the reply.
‘Hi Jennifer, it's David.’
Jennifer exhaled in relief at hearing a familiar voice. Her sister’s husband did not call very often, but when he did it was normally for something boring, such as borrowing her lawnmower or asking for advice on store shoplifters. 'Oh hello, is everything all right? Your number came up as unknown.'
'Yeah, I'm ringing from work. Listen, I booked Amy and myself a weekend in Paris as a surprise. I'd arranged with Laura to take Joshua, but she's broken down on the motorway with her horsebox and doesn't think she'll be back on time. Could you do me a favour and pick him up this afternoon? I know you're probably working, but if we can't get someone to collect him from nursery, I'll have to cancel the whole thing.'
‘Oh don't do that, I'll be happy to get him. It's the nursery beside the church, isn't it? Two o’clock?’
David exhaled in relief on the other end of the line. ‘Thanks, you're a life saver. If you can drop him over to Laura later that would be great.’
Jennifer rolled her eyes. Heaven forbid she be entrusted with Joshua for a whole day. She swallowed her pride, happy to have him at all.
‘I'm sure Amy will be thrilled with the surprise. What about Lily?’
‘I didn't think Amy would want to leave her behind so she's coming with us. She’s starting to sleep through the night, whereas Josh ...’
‘You don't need to explain. You wouldn't have much of a romantic night with him creeping between the covers, would you?’
David laughed. ‘Yes, you could say that. Anyway, Laura has all the details of where we're going. I'm sure Josh will enjoy seeing you.’
Jennifer responded with a smile in her voice. ‘I'm looking forward to it.’
She expected to have to plead with her sergeant for the time off, but as it turned out, there were enough probationers that day to cover her shift, and she agreed to work until twelve.
Jennifer grimaced as she checked through her emails. Her application to visit Sam Beswick in prison had been turned down. Without a valid case to investigate, he had to agree to her visit. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. She would write to him and explain.
The clock ticked by slowly, and she briefed Will on any outstanding jobs before she left. She was not expecting the call from the nursery, while she was out shopping for pizza, DVDs and popcorn.
‘Hello, is that Jennifer Knight? This is Little Ducklings nursery, we've been given your contact details.’ A shaky young woman's voice spoke on the other end of the phone.
‘Yes, have I got the time wrong? Joshua’s due to be picked up in an hour isn't he?’
‘Yes he is. I don't suppose any member of your family collected him early without telling anyone?’
Jennifer’s heart began to thrum in her chest. ‘No. His parents are away and the only other person is my aunt, who’s been delayed. Please don't tell me he’s gone.’
The sound of a hand over the receiver gave cause for alarm as muffled whispers gave instructions to keep looking. ‘Hello?’ Jennifer said, dropping her shopping basket and hastily returning to her car.
The woman returned to the phone. ‘I’m sorry but he seems to be missing. We've looked everywhere. They were out in the garden playing in the snow and when they all came in, he was nowhere to be found. I'm afraid I'll have to call the police.’
Jennifer felt like screaming that she was the police, and how could these idiots be so stupid as to lose a four-year-old child? But it was imperative they moved quickly. There would be time for recriminations later. ‘You do that. I'll look everywhere I know, and if you find him, call me.’
Panic gripped Jennifer like a vice, the realisation that Joshua was in danger causing her stomach to churn. Breathless from searching the local playground, she expanded her search to her home. Her mind ran wild with different scenarios, and none of them ended well. With shaking hands she reached for her mobile phone to call Will. It rang before she dialled the number.
‘Hello?’ she whispered, praying for good news.
‘Jennifer, is that you?’ Father Kelly’s voice echoed down the phone line.
‘Father, I can�
�t speak right now, Joshua’s missing, and I need to keep the line free.’
‘That’s why I’m calling; he’s with me. I was at the nursery when he disappeared. I remember him saying his aunty Laura promised to bring him to the boathouse this weekend, so I drove over, and there he was, sitting on the doorstep, the little tyke.’
She sighed loudly, tears of relief threatening to brim over. How on earth had he got to the boathouse by himself? The question briefly flashed through Jennifer’s mind, but was replaced by relief. Questions could be answered later. ‘Thank God, I was so scared. I’ll come and get him now.’
‘I've told the nursery and I've found a spare key under a rock so we’ve let ourselves in.’
Jennifer nodded as she grabbed her coat from the hook in the hall. ‘I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
As she was slamming the door behind her, the phone buzzed again. She ran her hand through the sleeve of her coat and accepted the call.
Will’s cheery voice rang down the phone. ‘Hi Jen, everything OK?’
‘No, as it happens. Josh went missing and it frightened the bloody life out of me. Father Kelly’s just called to say he’s found him at the boathouse. Can you find the incident and update control that he's safe?’
‘Sure. Want me to pop over? I’m not far from there.’
Jennifer was trying to regulate her breathing, but her stomach still felt like it was sat in her throat. ‘No mate, I’m fine. I’ll call you when I get there.’
Will hesitated. ‘Jennifer wait, something doesn’t feel right. Are you sure everything’s OK?’
‘I’m fine, but I really have to go.’
Will hesitated. ‘OK, but call me when you can.’
Don't Turn Around: A dark, thrilling, page-turner of a crime novel (Detective Jennifer Knight Crime Thriller Series Book 1) Page 26