by Shaun Hutson
‘And I appreciate that,’ Hailey said, sniffing back more tears.
Walker smiled crookedly. ‘You had a funny way of showing it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hailey blurted out.
‘Sorry. I’ve heard that word so many times during my life,’ he muttered. ‘And it’s never meant anything.’
Caroline was still crying softly. Hailey looked across, saw her body quivering.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Walker continued, his gaze never leaving Hailey.
‘Then what do you want, Adam?’ Hailey asked. ‘Just tell me. If there’s anything I can do to help, just . . .’
‘Like showing my work to Waterhole?’ he chided. ‘You were going to help me, weren’t you? But you didn’t.’ He moved towards the study door. Stood there a moment, then slipped out.
Hailey could hear his footsteps in the next room.
‘Caroline,’ she whispered, trying to control her breathing.
Her friend looked at her blankly.
‘We’ve got to get out,’ Hailey insisted.
As she spoke, she twisted frantically within the confines of the rope, wincing as it cut into her flesh.
‘Help me,’ she rasped.
Caroline could only shake her head.
Walker re-entered the room. Hailey could see the pistol jammed into his belt.
If only she could get her hands free. Could she reach it?
And . . .
And what? Grab it? Wrestle it from his grip? Shoot him?
There was a large wooden chest close by. It looked antique. Expensive.
Walker crossed to it and lifted the lid.
‘I tried to help you,’ he said, reaching inside.
He turned to face her, arms outstretched.
‘This was just for you,’ snarled Walker.
Hailey’s eyes bulged in their sockets.
Walker was holding up the severed heads of Sandra Bennett and David Layton.
Hailey finally found the breath to scream.
109
IT WAS ALL Hailey could do not to vomit.
Her stomach contracted violently as Walker stepped towards her, holding each of the heads by its hair, pushing them towards her.
Caroline Hacket’s entire body was shaking. If not for the nylon restraints, she would have fallen to the floor.
She stared in horror at the heads, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Hailey tried to look away, to tear her gaze from the monstrous sight before her.
The blood on the severed heads had congealed black in places – in the deep wounds on Sandy Bennett’s face.
One of David Layton’s eyes had been sliced in two by a particularly savage cut. Part of its eyelid was hanging like a tendril.
The other eye was wide open. It fixed her with a blank stare, the soft orb already close to liquescing.
God alone knew how long these heads had been decomposing in that antique trunk.
‘This woman almost destroyed your marriage,’ said Walker, holding up Sandy Bennett’s head. ‘She almost destroyed you – that’s what you told me.’
Hailey screwed her eyes tight shut until stars danced behind the lids.
‘And this man, her brother,’ Walker continued, ‘he was scum.’
‘How did you know he was her brother?’ Hailey blurted.
‘I followed him for a couple of days. I watched him. I even spoke to him once. I saw him with her. With others he knew.’ Walker shook his head. ‘He wasn’t a very nice man, Hailey.’
He dropped the heads onto the floor, where they landed with a thud.
‘You didn’t have to kill them,’ Hailey whispered.
‘You said you would have killed whoever it was who attacked Rob,’ he reminded her.
He walked across to where Caroline sat motionless, her face drained of colour, her eyes riveted to the severed heads.
Hailey glanced at her friend and saw the glazed stare. She guessed that Caroline had gone into shock.
Walker began massaging her shoulders gently.
‘And what now?’ Hailey wanted to know, watching his fingers working tenderly on her friend’s shoulders and neck.
He continued his gentle ministrations.
Caroline didn’t move.
‘I just want you to understand that I did this for you, Hailey,’ Walker said, looking at her. ‘I don’t expect you to thank me, but I wanted you to know.’
He stroked Caroline’s cheek with one index finger, brushed a tear away.
‘They betrayed you,’ he said. ‘And so did your friend.’
He turned Caroline’s head so that she was looking at him.
‘She tried to tempt me away from you, when she should have known that you were the only one I ever wanted.’
Walker placed one hand on either side of her face, and kissed Caroline lightly on the lips. The expression on his face barely changed.
It was the power in his grip.
He suddenly clamped his hands hard around Caroline’s head, one cupping her chin, the other gripping the back of her head. He twisted savagely to one side.
Her neck broke with an audible crack.
This time Hailey couldn’t even scream. She merely began to sob uncontrollably.
Caroline’s head lolled uselessly onto her chest. Walker pushed at it with one index finger, seemingly amazed at how easily it moved on the shattered vertebrae. Like that of a puppet with its strings cut.
Hailey was still crying when Walker crossed to her and began undoing the ropes that held her.
He pulled her to her feet, her hands still tied behind her back.
She knew she was going to die.
She stood motionless.
An image of Becky flashed through her mind.
‘One more thing,’ he said, smiling.
He crossed to the large canvas at the end of the room and pulled the sheet off.
Hailey looked at it.
It was all there. Like some obscene collage. But completed with consummate skill.
She recognized the figures.
Herself, Rob and Becky.
Walker, Sandy Bennett, David Layton, Caroline.
There were others too.
She didn’t recognize the other faces. They had been painted with their features spattered by blood, mouths open in silent screams of agony.
‘It’s finished at last,’ he said proudly. He held her by the shoulders, leaning close to her ear. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go.’
‘Go where?’ she asked him.
Walker smiled.
110
‘WHY?’
The question hung in the air like a bad smell.
Walker merely drove on, eyes alert. As he turned a corner, he could see Hailey staring at him from the passenger seat.
‘I’ve already told you why,’ he said flatly.
‘You didn’t have to kill them. You didn’t have to kill Caroline. If you were trying to impress me, it didn’t work.’
Walker grinned. ‘It was nothing to do with impressing you, Hailey.’ He chuckled. ‘I was protecting you.’
‘By killing my best friend?’ She sniffed back tears.
‘I told you, she betrayed you. I know all about betrayal. My mother betrayed me when she ran off with another man and my father did the same when he viciously abused me. Trust me: I know what I’m talking about.’
‘So three people had to die because of that?’
‘I thought so,’ he offered.
‘And how many more will die?’ she wanted to know.
Walker didn’t answer, merely kept his eyes on the road, easing his foot down a little harder on the accelerator.
Hailey allowed her head to flop back. She gazed out of the side window.
‘You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You’ll never get away with this, Adam.’
‘I know,’ Walker said flatly. ‘But there’s always a price to pay for fame, isn’t there?’ He looked at he
r and smiled. ‘People are going to know my name after tonight, Hailey. Just like they know the names of people like Charles Manson, Denis Nilsen, Peter Sutcliffe, Michael Ryan, and Thomas Hamilton. And they all paid a price too. They paid with their freedom, or their lives, but people remember them. They will do for years to come. They’ll be written about and talked about. They’ve become part of our culture, no matter how much people supposedly despise them – the media need them. TV and papers condemn them because they know they have to, but they’re fascinated by them, and I’ll tell you why. They know that those men did things that everyone is capable of. It’s just that not everyone has the courage to do it.’
‘They killed innocent people,’ Hailey said, trying to control her breathing. ‘What’s so courageous about that?’
‘It takes a lot of strength to take another life, Hailey. More than you’d think.’
‘Was that the kind of fame you always wanted?’ Hailey said slowly. It felt as if her entire body had been enveloped by a cold chill that had started at the back of her neck and spread outwards. As if someone had injected iced water into her veins.
‘I always told you I wanted people to know that I’d been here. I wanted to make a mark.’
‘Like Manson? Like Sutcliffe? Like the rest of those killers?’
‘If necessary.’
‘You admire them, don’t you?’
‘Yes. They only thought about themselves. They were single-minded. They didn’t care what people thought of them. They didn’t worry about things like conscience, remorse or morality. And, yes, I do admire that.’
‘People will know your name, but they’ll hate you for what you’ve done.’
‘And you think I care?’ he said sardonically. ‘I’ll be doing the world a favour.’
Hailey looked puzzled. ‘But you said you killed Caroline and the others for me,’ she said falteringly. ‘What’s that got to do with anyone else?’
‘They were just the beginning,’ he told her sharply. ‘Did you think I expected to be remembered for killing some small-time criminal and a couple of slags? You underestimate me, Hailey. I’ve got more ambition than that.’ He chuckled. ‘But now you’ll see.’
He looked at his watch. ‘And we’re nearly there,’ Walker observed, smiling.
At last Hailey understood.
111
THERE WAS SOMETHING wrong. Rob was convinced of that.
There had to be.
He sat gazing intently towards the main entrance of the ballroom, hoping
(praying?)
that Hailey would walk in at any minute.
How long since she’d waved them off?
He rechecked his watch. An hour? Two hours?
Becky also seemed to have tired of the constant babble of conversation and music, and was now concerned only with seeing her mother again. She sat beside Rob, swinging her feet over the edge of the chair and looking up at her father.
He ruffled her hair a couple of times, sure that even his own daughter must realize how fake this gesture was.
Could the car carrying Hailey to the Pavilion Hotel have crashed?
Was she even now lying by some roadside in need of help?
And where the hell was Caroline Hacket?
Or Adam Walker?
Had they all decided to ride here in the same car?
No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t be that insensitive.
Would she?
He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun round.
James Marsh was standing there.
‘I was looking for your good lady, Rob,’ Marsh said, smiling.
‘That makes two of us,’ Rob told him.
‘Where’s my mum?’ Becky added.
Marsh touched her cheek and winked. ‘She should have been here by now,’ he offered thoughtfully. ‘We’ve got a presentation to make in twenty minutes. I want her here for that.’
Rob got to his feet, lowering his voice and turning his back on Becky, anxious she shouldn’t hear him.
‘Look, no offence, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your presentation,’ he rasped. ‘I just want to know where Hailey is. And I’ll tell you something, if she’s not here in ten minutes, I’m going to call the police.’
‘No need, Rob. I’ll do it myself. You’re right, she should have been here by now.’
‘Are all the other guests here?’ Rob wanted to know.
Marsh nodded, glancing around the crowded ballroom.
‘Perhaps the car’s broken down,’ he mused.
‘Then send someone to find her,’ Rob said, glaring at the older man.
‘All right, calm down,’ said Marsh quietly.
‘I’m telling you,’ Rob persisted. ‘Ten minutes and I’m calling the police.’
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly simple explanation for why she’s not here.’
‘Then tell me what it is,’ Rob hissed.
Somewhere behind them, there was a sound of breaking crockery, followed by a loud cheer.
Both men turned and saw two members of Waterhole gathered around a couple of broken plates lying on the parquet, each pointing an accusatory finger at the other. They were laughing, ignoring the food that had spilled onto the floor.
Rob looked at them with something akin to disgust, then returned his attention to Marsh.
‘I’d better have a word with them,’ said Marsh, moving away.
Rob didn’t speak. Merely watched him make his way across the crowded ballroom towards the two band members, where he was joined by Ray Taylor. The band’s manager was sipping a Bacardi and Coke, looking on silently and grinning.
Becky pulled at Rob’s hand. ‘Dad, I’ve got to go to the loo,’ she told him. ‘Will you come with me?’
He nodded. Together they threaded their way through the maze of party-goers, Rob occasionally nudging people aside in his annoyance.
The toilets were in the main foyer, through a set of white double-doors.
‘I’ll wait here, babe,’ he said, standing outside the door marked LADIES.
Becky entered, almost knocked over by a tall young woman in her mid-twenties who was emerging.
Rob registered the dark make-up, the black-painted nails, the long skirt, slit to the thigh, the laced-up boots beneath.
Trudi, without the ‘e’, gazed blankly at him and wiped her nose with her thumb and forefinger, sniffing loudly.
‘Great party,’ she said, running appraising eyes over him.
He nodded.
A moment later Jenny Kenton appeared, pushing her dark glasses back on her nose. She too sniffed loudly.
‘You missed some,’ said Rob disdainfully, pointing to some fine grains of white powder around one of her nostrils.
The former actress wiped away the residue and strode off in the direction of the ballroom, Trudi in tow.
He could hear them laughing as the double-doors swung shut behind them.
Becky emerged, hurrying across to her father.
Rob put a protective arm around her shoulders and prepared to lead her back into the ballroom. Then he remembered that he’d seen a row of phones in the foyer as they’d entered.
He looked at his watch.
Six minutes, and he’d call the police.
Might as well wait.
‘Shall we go for a walk before we go back in?’ he said, taking Becky’s hand.
‘Perhaps we’ll see Mum,’ Becky offered.
‘Perhaps we will,’ murmured Rob.
112
THERE HAD TO be some way of warning them.
That was Hailey’s only thought as she walked from the car with Adam Walker.
There had to be.
She glanced down once or twice at the small case he carried, shuddering each time she thought about its deadly cargo.
The well-lit façade of the Pavilion Hotel shone like a beacon in the darkness, and she also saw the lights glinting on the bodywork of dozens of cars parked outside. They belonged mostly to guests at the party g
oing on inside. A party that was about to become a bloodbath.
Unless she could stop him.
But how?
He had one of the pistols jammed into his belt on his left hip, hidden from prying eyes by the folds of his jacket. He carried the case in his left hand, too.
They were close to the steps that led up to the main entrance now, and Hailey saw two burly security men standing there.
Tell them? Scream? Shout to them that this man is carrying a gun?
‘If you open your mouth I’ll kill you, and them,’ Walker hissed under his breath, touching the butt of the automatic to reinforce the threat.
‘You’re going to do it anyway,’ she rasped. ‘Why wait?’
‘Just keep walking,’ he instructed.
The security men stepped aside as they saw Hailey and Walker, one of them even ushering the newcomers towards the ballroom.
Walker smiled graciously. They continued on through the foyer.
‘Please don’t do this, Adam,’ Hailey said, her voice cracking.
He didn’t answer.
There were two more security men on the doors that led into the ballroom: big-built men in dark suits.
Hailey showed them her VIP laminate. Walker did the same.
Beyond the doors, she could hear music, talking, laughter.
‘Adam,’ she said, looking straight into his eyes. ‘I’m begging you: don’t do this. My husband and daughter are in there – you know that. Please don’t do this.’
She looked at the security men. Saw Walker’s left hand move towards his left hip.
‘No,’ she gasped.
‘Is something wrong?’ one of the security men asked.
The taller of the two men took a step towards her.
‘No!’ Hailey screamed at the top of her voice.
Walker turned, pulling the Steyr from his belt.
To Hailey it was as if the entire world had slowed down. As if every movement was in slow motion.
She saw Walker pull the Steyr free . . . saw him shoot the taller security guard in the face . . . saw the bullet shatter bone, tear through his skull and explode from the back of his head, carrying away a flux of brain matter and blood.
The guard had barely hit the floor when Walker shot the other man, pumping two bullets into his chest. The first of them shattered his sternum, the second burst one lung and erupted from his back. A huge crimson slick of blood splashed across the wall as the second bullet exited. It looked as if someone had thrown red paint at the brickwork.