by Cross, Amy
He stopped suddenly as he realized he could hear another sound nearby. Taking a step back into the room, he peered past one of the benches and finally spotted a figure on the ground, sitting with its back to the wall and gently sobbing.
“Joe?”
No reply.
“Hey, Joe,” Bryan continued, making his way over, “what's going on, dude? There's someone here to see you, she's in the front office. I told her I'd come and get you, but...”
As Joe continued to cry, Bryan reached down and picked up the copy of the local paper that was on the floor nearby. Taking a look at the headline, he realized it was about the murder of Mel Armitage. He'd read it already, of course. Everyone in Bowley had read that day's edition, and it had been the sole topic of conversation in the garage all morning.
“I think I get it,” he said after a moment, setting the paper on the counter. “Brought it all back, did it? Got you thinking about -”
He paused, figuring that he probably shouldn't say Caitlin's name. Joe was always a little unpredictable; not dangerous, not really, but definitely someone who could react badly to certain things.
“You remember what I said when I took you on here, yeah?” he continued, sitting next to him. “Any time you need to take time off, for any reason, it's fine. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard, you're a good mechanic but only when you've got your head together. I should've realized this might happen, especially on the anniversary, and especially when...” Reaching over, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder and quickly realized that Joe's whole body was trembling. “Why don't you get home for the rest of the day? Take the week off, come back in on Monday.”
He waited, but Joe was still sobbing and seemed too upset to reply.
“The only thing is,” Bryan continued, “I think you might have to talk to this woman first. She's a cop.”
***
“Hey, Joe,” Jane said, getting to her feet as soon as she saw him in the doorway. “How are you doing?”
Staring at her with cautious, tear-stained eyes, Joe seemed incapable of replying. He paused for a moment, seemingly poised to turn and leave, before taking a step into the room.
“This must be a difficult period for you,” she continued, smiling as she reached out to shake his hand. “It's been a while, hasn't it? I don't know if you remember me from the last time we met, back when...” She paused, realizing that it might be better to focus on the present rather than stirring up any unnecessary parts of the past. “I'm so glad you finally started working. It must feel good to have something to do with your time. Having a job makes it seem like you're a part of the community again, doesn't it?”
“It's alright,” Joe said quietly, barely raising his voice above a whisper.
“Bryan says you're good with engines.”
He shrugged.
Realizing that Joe wasn't going to shake her hand, Jane made her way to the door and pushed it shut. She felt as if she was being patronizing and condescending, as if she was talking to Joe like he was a child, but at the same time she wasn't sure how else to get through to him.
“The thing is,” she continued, “I need to have a word with you about something very serious that happened in town recently. I know this is a bad time, and I'm sure you've seen the paper this morning. I guess you know what happened the other night at the Monument.”
He nodded.
“Everyone's in shock,” she added, “but I guess it must be particularly difficult for you. After all... Well, I know what you went through last time, Joe. I think it's really brave of you to be out in the world again, trying to make a life for yourself. You know we're always around if you need help, though. Don't be shy or afraid.”
“I'm not,” he mumbled. “Are you the one who -”
She waited for him to continue. “Am I the one who what?”
“The one who was at the hospital.”
“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “That was a long time ago, huh?”
“You look older.”
“Well, it has been nine years. That was almost my first day back then.” She paused. “So can we sit down, Joe? I really need to ask you some questions. I really don't want to disturb you, but it's important and I don't have all the time in the world.”
Cautiously, and with tears in his eyes, Joe pulled the chair back and sat down. He had the same scruffy, cowed demeanor of a boy who was usually well-behaved, but who'd been hauled before the headmaster for some out-of-character transgression.
“I know this is going to be really difficult,” Jane continued, as she sat opposite him, “but I have to talk to you about the night Caitlin died. I went through all the paperwork from that time, but I felt that maybe you might remember a few extra things, now that so much time has passed. Do you think you could see your way to running over a few parts of that night with me again?”
He paused. “What parts?”
“Nine years ago, you said you didn't remember very much about the man who attacked you. His face, or his voice... I know Alex has spoken to you a few times since and you said you still didn't remember anything useful, but I was hoping that there might be something you can tell me. The thing is, we're starting to think that the person who killed Caitlin -”
He flinched as soon as he heard that name.
“Sorry,” she added. “The person who was responsible for what happened to her, and who attacked you... We think it might be the same person who killed Mel the other night. Obviously we're not sure, not yet, but we have to look into every possibility, and that's why I came here today. I wanted to see if there's anything else you remember, anything at all. Can you maybe go over it again? If it's not too painful, I mean.”
She waited.
“Please?” she continued. “It'd really help.”
“I didn't see his face,” Joe replied quickly, almost defensively.
“I understand that. It was dark and -”
“I didn't see his face.”
“No, I -”
“I didn't. I didn't see it.”
She opened her mouth to rephrase the question, but something about Joe's tone seemed a little frantic now.
“I just saw...” He paused, staring down at the table as if he was reliving the moment. “You know what I saw. I'm not saying it again.”
“I know what you told us nine years ago.” She flicked through her notepad. “You said you saw a... Do you mind if I say it, Joe?”
No reply.
“You said you saw a man with a head like... You said he seemed to have antlers, or pieces of wood coming out of his head. Is that still correct?”
He nodded.
“Now,” she continued, “obviously that description presents a few challenges, because even though it's very distinctive, it doesn't -”
“It's what I saw.”
“I believe you, but -”
“He had something over his head, like a cloth, and...” He paused again. “I saw them in the moonlight.”
“The antlers?”
“They weren't very big. Some of them were... All of them maybe, they were broken.”
“Right.” She looked down at her notepad for a moment. “And did he -”
“Then he came at me,” he continued, flinching slightly, “and he let out this noise, like a cry. He fell on me and knocked me over, and then he was on top and that's when I felt...” Looking down, he placed his hands on the front of his overalls, as if he was feeling his belly. “I kept looking at her while he was doing it.”
“Looking at her?”
“C-C-Caitlin,” he stammered, as if the effort of saying that name had required an inordinate amount of effort. “I knew I couldn't fight him off, I was just a lanky streak back then, and I didn't know where to look while he was doing it to me, so I looked at her. She was up above me, in the tree. She was already dead. I just kept looking at her while he was putting the knife in me over and over. I wanted her to be okay.”
“I know you did.”
“She was d
ripping blood,” he added. “She was... I knew... I could tell she was gone. I tried to reach out to her, but the man was too heavy.”
“He was holding you down?”
“He had her heart in his hand.”
“While he was attacking you?”
He nodded.
“So...” She paused. “This might be important, Joe. Did he keep her heart in his hand the whole time he was on top of you, or did he put it down somewhere?”
“He held onto it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I saw it.”
She made a quick note. “And then what happened?”
“Then he stopped. He leaned closer, real close, and looked into my eyes. I guess he thought I was dead, or as close as made no difference, and then he got off. I remember wondering why...” He paused. “I remember wondering why he was so delicate with her and arranged her all nice, and why he was so rough with me and just left me on the ground like that. The next thing I remember is being in the hospital, with everyone running around and all those voices shouting.”
“But the face of the man who attacked you -”
“I didn't see it,” he continued. “He had something over it, like a piece of cloth or a sack, something like that. There were holes for the eyes, but I didn't see anything in there. It's like they weren't there at all.” Suddenly, he started unbuttoning the front of his overalls. “I'll show you what he did to me.”
“It's okay,” she replied. “I remember. I came to the hospital, remember?”
“Look,” he continued, pulling the fabric aside to reveal his scarred belly. “That's what he left!”
“I know,” she told him. “I saw you nine years ago when you still very sick, when they didn't know whether or not you'd -” She caught herself just in time. “I know what this monster did to you, and that's why I'm going to make sure we catch him so that -”
“You can't catch him,” he replied.
“I promise you, we can.”
“Then why haven't you?” He turned for a moment, as if he was hearing a voice nearby, before glancing back at her. “When I think about him,” he continued, “and I think about you, I can't see you putting handcuffs on him and taking him to jail. It's just not going to happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it's ridiculous,” he added. “Someone like you, getting hold of someone like him... It's like someone from one world trying to catch someone from another. It's silly. I mean, can you imagine it happening?”
“Yes, Joe. I can.”
“It ain't gonna.”
She paused, before closing her notepad and slipping it into her pocket. “If you think of anything else, Joe, you must come and speak to me. Even if it seems like something small, like something completely insignificant, it might help us. Do you promise you'll do that?”
“C-Caitlin shouldn't have died.”
“I know that.”
“I should have saved her.”
“You can't blame yourself.”
“That's what I was trying to do while he was stabbing me,” he continued. “I was reaching out and trying to transfer my life energy into her, so that she'd survive, even if it meant I had to die. Is that stupid? I don't believe in all that crap, but at that moment, I was trying to help her any way I could. I just...” He paused again, as a tear ran down his cheek. “If I hadn't asked her out there that night, she'd still be around today. I could still talk to her and everything.”
“I'm sure you did everything that was in your power,” she replied. “You need to just focus on how things are at the moment, on the things you can control. You're rebuilding your life, and that's great.”
“He'll kill again.”
She paused. “What makes you say that?”
“I've seen him, remember? He was amazing. Powerful, strong... I could just tell. Someone like him, as long as he's alive, he'll always kill again.” He paused, staring at her with dark, unblinking eyes. “Maybe he should kill again, if it's what he does best.”
“I'm not sure that's true, Joe -”
“You didn't see him,” he replied, interrupting her as a faint smile crossed his lips. “It was horrible, and it hurt, but seeing him in action... It was like seeing a creature do the one thing it was put on this earth to do. He's magnificent.”
***
“What are you thinking about?”
Turning, Alex saw his wife Ruth standing in the doorway.
“Don't take this the wrong way,” she continued, stepping closer, “but you're not the kind of guy who usually stands at a window, looking out at the rain and the world, contemplating things. You're a doer, not a brooder, so when I see you like this, I can't help wondering what's going on.” She paused. “Missing the cigarettes?”
He shook his head.
“Not tempted to go back to them?”
“Course not,” he replied, turning back to the window. “I'm just looking out at the town and wondering where it all went wrong.”
“Wrong?” Making her way over to join him, she looked out at the town square. “Doesn't look like much is wrong, not to me.”
“That's the problem,” he replied. “I've spent my whole life trying to keep Bowley and its people safe, and I always thought I was doing a pretty good job. No-one complained, that's for sure, and life just seemed to keep on going without too many problems. Now I'm starting to wonder if the bad things were just better at hiding than I realized. Like maybe there's things going on here that I don't know anything about.”
“I very much doubt that,” she told him.
“There's obviously something,” he continued. “There's some... force that killed Caitlin Somers nine years ago, and then laid dormant until it killed Mel Armitage the other night. And for those nine years, I thought the place was safe again, I thought the evil had moved on, but it was here all along and I just couldn't see it. It was hiding or waiting or... laughing at me. Feeling smarter than me.”
“Look out there,” she replied, putting her arms around him from behind. “This town is so peaceful and beautiful. Do you honestly believe that there could be much of anything bubbling away under the surface?”
“If you'd asked me yesterday,” he muttered, “I'd have said no. But now? Now I'm starting to think I might have been the biggest fool around. I think there might be something here, Ruth. Something that just got real good at keeping out of view. And the worst thing is, even now I know it's there, I still can't see it.”
***
Lowering herself slowly into the bath, Katie winced as soon as she felt water against her torn and scratched skin. Every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming out to her, telling her to stop, but she kept going, forcing herself down until she was sitting on the submerged mat, with water up to her shoulders.
Finally, unable to hold back any longer, she let out a faint gasp.
After a few minutes, she lifted her left arm and looked at the cut that ran from her elbow to her armpit. The skin on either side of the cut itself was red and sore, but the wound was already healing over. She lowered her arm again, trying to ignore the stinging sensation as she felt hot water against her injuries. Although she wanted to close her eyes, she didn't dare. She knew she'd see Mr. Crutchlow's grinning face again, the same face that had seared itself into her mind during her second night at The Border.
A moment later, she heard her phone start ringing. She'd left it on the closed toilet lid, and when she leaned over and took a look she saw to her horror that it was Simon, the man from the office, who was trying to get in touch. She waited, daring herself to answer, and finally the ringing stopped.
Silence.
And then she flinched slightly as it started again.
“Go away,” she whispered. “Please...”
Reaching out with a wet, dripping hand, she picked up the phone and looked at the screen. She knew she should answer, that she'd promised to always be available for The Border whenever they needed her, but at the same time she'd been hopin
g for a night to herself. Finally, she felt a hint of relief as the phone once again stopped ringing.
If it rings again, she told herself, I'll answer. Three times would mean he's really desperate and -
Suddenly the phone began to ring again in her hand, and she realized it wasn't going to stop. After taking a moment to regather her composure, she tapped the screen and held it to the side of her face.
“Yes?” she said cautiously.
All she heard was a burst of static, with a human voice lost in the noise. She held the phone away from her face until it stopped.
“Hello?” she continued. “Look, I can't make out a word you're saying. It's... It's just like the intercom, it's all garbled.”
She waited, and then the static came back. There was definitely someone speaking on the other end, but the distortion was so great that it was almost like a kind of primordial, digital howl.
“I can't hear you,” she said firmly. “Simon, I know it's you, but -”
The howl returned, a little louder than before, as if he was trying harder to be heard.
“Do you want me to work tonight?” she asked. “Is that it?”
Again, the only answer was a static howl.
“Could you maybe text me instead? I really don't know what you're saying.”
Another howl.
“Okay, fine,” she continued, “I'll be there. I can't make out a word of this, but I'll show up for work tonight, at the same time as before. Is that okay?”
She waited, and finally she heard a brief burst of static that she figured might be him agreeing.
“I'm going to hang up now,” she added. “Oh, and you really need to get your phone fixed. It's, like, crazy trying to work out anything you're saying.”
Cutting the call, she set her phone back on the toilet lid before leaning back in the bath. The pain from her injuries wasn't so bad this time, and she figured that with a few hours to go before she had to be at work again, she could probably recover enough. Turning, she lit a couple of candles and took a deep breath. The smell of lavender usually helped her to relax, so she decided to at least try closing her eyes.
As soon as she did so, she saw Crutchlow's grinning face again.