by John Stewart
Mike paused the recording to gather the rest of the notes, restarted it and continued on, listing the rest of the possible connections between the Barnes and Briggs cases. Once he had gotten through them all, he turned off the recorder, took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. Although he had made some progress, he was out of ideas and the day had turned to night. Noticing the time was after 9pm, he rang Simon to see where he was.
“Mike!” Simon answered with an enthused tone.
“Hi, Simon. I was just wondering if you were going to be back soon? I’ve got to get off.”
“Sorry, the day got away from me, I’m actually nearly home. Can you hang on five minutes?”
Mike wasn’t in a big hurry and wanted to update Simon anyway. “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be here.”
“Okay, cheers Mike, see you soon.”
As he waited, Mike took the opportunity to write out a quick list of the possible connections that Simon could look into. All the time knowing full well it wasn’t enough to get anything concrete.
When Simon arrived, Mike walked him through his theories and the newly discovered writing on the inside of the bag.
“What do you mean? I never saw any message on the bag.” Simon said, clearly surprised by the revelation.
Mike opened the Darren Taylor folder and arranged the three relevant pictures to reveal the ‘Happy New Year,’ message.
“That’s nothing, just a shop logo or something.” Simon blurted out sceptically.
Mike took out his phone. “Okay, look at this.”
As he spoke, he took a picture of the arranged photos. He then opened a picture editing application he had on his phone and inverted the image.
Simon’s reaction was stark. “Holy shit!”
Mike fought back a grin, pleased it had worked so well.
“Do you see it now?”
Simon looked almost frightened.
“Jesus! ‘Happy New Year.’ That links him with Coope for sure. How did I miss it?”
“As you said from the start, fresh eyes can spot things. It’s hardly a case breaker, but it does suggest you’re dealing with the same killer as William Coope’s.”
Simon’s body language became animated.
“What about the others, did you manage to link the rest up too?”
Mike sighed. “No. Well, not to a degree you could go to court with. Briggs, Barnes and Coope were all found positioned by trees and there was a scalpel used in both the Barnes and Coope killings, but that’s as far as it goes. You could argue the similarities in the Briggs and Barnes cases make it likely that they were killed by the same person, same for Coope and Taylor, but it’s more likely you’re dealing with three separate killers. The Renshaw case seems to be completely unrelated to any of the rest, so one killer for him, one for Briggs and Barnes and another for Coope and Taylor. But at this point, it’s all ifs, buts and maybes.”
Simon began to shake his head.
“No, no, no, they’re connected, all of them. I know it.”
Mike sighed heavily. “Well, what are you not telling me? What am I missing?”
Simon went silent before taking out a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. “I got this in the mail.”
He handed Mike the folded piece of paper. Mike shook his head in disbelief as he opened it.
“Just one more resolution left.” Mike read the note aloud, feeling his anger build. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this from the very start? Did you hand this in? Who else knows about it? Jesus Christ, Simon! This has to be linked to the new year references. You looked me in the eye and promised you’d given me everything! When did you get it?”
Simon held his head in his hands.
“I know, but I couldn’t be sure what it meant until I saw the writing on the bag. I haven’t told anyone about it yet.”
“When?” Mike asked again.
“It came the day after you and Miss Hollister called over. I’m sorry.”
Mike was furious and didn’t try hiding it.
“So, you knew a potential murderer was aware that you were working these cases and you let Becca walk straight into it!”
“It was you I asked for. You brought her along.” Simon fired back.
Mike grabbed him once again, he was close to hitting him, but he just about held back. Simon wasn’t a small man, but Mike had an inch or two on him and the years of drinking had weakened his once sturdy frame.
“I’m gonna walk out this door and if I ever hear from you again, so help me…” Mike let go and turned to pick up his things.
Simon became desperate. “I’m sorry Mike, please, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. You have to believe me. Please! I need your help.”
Mike threw his bag over his shoulder and pushed passed Simon. “You need help alright, professional fucking help. Don’t call me again!”
“Please, Mike!” Simon continued to plead as Mike walked out the front door and down the hallway until he was well out of earshot. He slowly walked back inside the apartment and slumped down the wall towards the floor. He took out the photo showing him at a 1999 New Year’s Eve party, arm in arm with all the victims. He held the photo to his forehead and sobbed. “You have to help me, I’m next. I’m the last resolution!”
Chapter 17
As he drove back to the hospital, Mike’s head was racing. Finding out that Simon had received a potential threat from a possible killer and had withheld it from everyone, had him reeling, but the contents of the letter concerned him even more. He knew that if the letter was indeed from someone involved in the killings, it meant that whoever it was, knew Simon was investigating the cases and the timing suggested the killer was also aware of himself and Rebecca’s involvement. The thought that Rebecca may have been attacked by a killer made him feel sick and the suggestion that there was another victim to follow was more than enough motivation to leave the cases in the hands of the police and focus on getting Rebecca well again.
As he pulled into the hospital, he took a few seconds to compose himself. He looked down at his hands and saw he had been gripping the steering wheel so hard, it had left imprints on the palms of his hands. The words ‘Only one more resolution to keep,’ rang in his mind. His conscience got the better of him and he decided to send Simon a message. He took out his phone and opted to leave a voice message.
“Simon, it’s Mike.” He took a deep breath as he felt a pang of guilt for grabbing him so aggressively. “Look, I’m sorry I got so angry, but you know why I did. You lied to me and I can’t work with liars. You should go straight to your friends at the Met with everything you have. God knows who could be next and whoever came to your house could have been there for you, don’t forget that. Watch your back. Goodbye.”
***
Back at his apartment, Simon was slumped in his living room armchair staring at the group photo with an unopened bottle of recently purchased whiskey in his hand. His phone beeped and he listened to Mike’s message. As it ended, he calmly put the phone down, picked up a glass from the coffee table and poured in a healthy measure. He looked at it for a moment before swallowing the lot and slamming it down on the glass table. As the familiar burn hit the back of his throat, he placed the photo on an ashtray, struck a match and lit the corner. He glared at the fragmented and unwanted memory with a tear in his eye as it burned away to nothing. Picking up his phone, he then threw it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. The smoke alarm in the room went off with a deafening tone, but as if oblivious to the sound, Simon just sat back and poured himself another drink.
***
Mike was attempting to make himself comfortable as he read the previous day’s newspaper in the chair beside Rebecca’s bed when Nurse Swindon walked in.
“Oh Mike, you’re back. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here for another while.”
Mike shuffled upright and lowered the paper as she entered.
“Claire, what has you in so late?”
“Ah, pulling a double ton
ight. Did you get whatever it was you had to do finished up?”
Mike sighed at the thoughts of his day.
“Well, let’s just say I’ll be focusing on this one from now on.” Reaching over to rub Rebecca’s hand as he spoke.
Claire gave him a cheerful smile.
“That’s good to hear. It just so happens that I have some good news on that front.”
Mike’s eyes widened with a hopeful expression.
“Is she being woken up?”
Claire walked over to the chart at the end of Rebecca’s bed. “You didn’t hear this from me.” Looking at the chart as she spoke. “But earlier today, I did overhear Dr. Palmer saying Miss Hollister’s hydration levels have stabilized and that she could be woken up very soon.”
Unable to contain his excitement, Mike stood up from the chair, knocking the newspaper to the floor in the process. “Can you do it now?
“I’ll just check with Dr. Palmer and if he gives the go ahead, I can remove her sedative line and she’ll wake up as soon as the effects wear off. Give me a minute, I’ll have to call from the nurses’ station.”
“That’s great. Thanks Claire.” Mike sat on the edge of Rebecca’s bed as Claire left the room. Looking at her improved complexion, he felt a warmth inside he hadn’t felt in a long while. “Once you’re up and well enough, I’m bringing you on that holiday we talked about. Work will just have to cope a little longer without us.” He said rubbing her hand.
Nurse Swindon arrived back before long wearing a huge smile. “Great news!”
Mike stood up from the bed, still holding Rebecca’s hand. “Can you do it?”
Claire walked over to the drip beside Rebecca’s bed. “Dr. Palmer said she’s ready, so I can go ahead.” As she spoke, she removed the line containing the sedative from the drip. “That’s it. Now we just wait for Sleeping Beauty to wake up.”
“How long does it normally take?” Mike asked in an expectant tone.
“It varies. She could come around in a few hours, but most likely she’ll sleep through the night. Maybe you could give her hair a little brush for when she wakes up. She’s bound to get a little shock when she sees herself after so long sleeping.”
“Oh, right, yeah. There should be a comb in her bag, thanks.”
“Glad I could be here. I might pop in to see her in the morning if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course, you’ve taken great care of her. She’ll want to thank you herself.”
“Okay, well I’ll leave you to it. Just hit the buzzer beside the bed if you need anything.”
“Will do, thanks again Claire.”
Mike sat for a few minutes after Nurse Swindon left and wondered what he would say to Rebecca when she woke up. His thoughts then shifted to the words she spoke to the doctor when she initially woke from her coma.
‘Mike! Get him.’ He didn’t know if she calling for him or telling him to go get her attacker. For all Mike knew, she may have seen her attacker and could identify him.
“Plenty of time to worry about that.” He told himself as he turned to search through Rebecca’s things for a comb. Once he found one, he moved the chair close and began to slowly brush her long red hair. The rhythmic pattern of the brushing mixed with the dull sound of the distant monitors soon sent Mike into his own sleep.
When he opened his eyes again, he still had the comb in his hand along with a long strand of hair. His first reaction was to smile, but on closer inspection, he saw the hair was black. He let go and looked up to see Kimberly Barnes staring back at him, bleeding from her severed eyelids. He jumped back from the fright and once again found himself jolting in the chair beside Rebecca’s bed. It took him a few seconds to focus and realise, he just had another bad dream. Then he heard it, the voice he’d been waiting to hear for over two weeks.
“About time you woke up. I thought you were gonna sleep all day, lazy bones.”
Rebecca was awake.
Chapter 18
In the sixteen days following Rebecca’s attack, the world had carried on with an unyielding inevitability. People had died and babies were born. All around the globe lives carried on as usual, but Rebecca was oblivious to it all. When she opened her eyes, it took her a couple of minutes to focus on her surroundings and once her eyes adapted to the light, she realised where she was.
“Did we crash?” She thought to herself as she struggled to sit up in the bed. The sight of Mike sleeping on a chair to her right eased her mind. He appeared to be unhurt and checking her body, she could feel no obvious injuries. She didn’t notice the cut to the back of her head as it had healed well and left little trace beneath her hair. There was a tacky taste in her mouth, not unlike the kind she often experienced following a night sipping red wine. She eyed a water container and an upturned glass to her left and enthusiastically availed of it. Taking the liquid in too fast, she coughed as some went down the wrong way. The noise stirred Mike and he woke with a jump. Rebecca had no idea why she was there but knew something dramatic must have happened and opted to bring some levity to the situation with her greeting.
Mike appeared to be frozen on the spot for a moment before jumping out of his chair and throwing his arms around her.
“Becca, Jesus you’re okay.”
As nice as his heartfelt embrace was, Rebecca began to get the impression that something more serious had happened than she initially thought.
“Okay, okay, I’m fine. Ease off with the public display, Mr. Wesley.”
Mike eventually let go and sat facing her on the bed. She could see tears streaming down his face.
“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.” He said, wiping his cheeks with a slightly embarrassed chuckle.
“What happened?” Rebecca asked with another cough.
“You don’t remember?” Mike asked in a disappointed tone.
“No, did I pass out or something?”
Realising that Rebecca had no recollection of what happened was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment. If she couldn’t remember who attacked her, they may never find out who was responsible, but, on the other hand, the memory loss may just spare her the emotional trauma of that day.
“What’s the last thing you can remember?”
Rebecca thought for a second as she began to scratch the back of her head.
“Eh… God it’s a bit of a blur. Driving I think. Yeah, that’s it. Was it a crash or what?”
Mike didn’t know what to say, but knew Rebecca would see through him if he hesitated for too long.
“You were working a case and you must have taken a fall. You hit your head pretty bad and you lost a lot of blood. I thought you were a goner.”
Rebecca felt the small raised line on the back of her head and then looked at her hand for any signs of blood. Finding none, a confused expression spread across her face.
“I don’t get it. I’ve no cut on my head, just a little raised line.”
“That’s probably just the scar.”
“The scar! Exactly how long have I been out for Mike?”
Mike grimaced, clearly not wanting to tell her the full extent of her situation. “You slipped into a coma. I spoke to you every day, but I guess what they say is bull after all.”
“How long Mike?” She asked again with more conviction.
Mike looked at his phone and checked the time.
“Sixteen days eight hours and seventeen minutes, give or take.”
The words hit Rebecca like a sledgehammer. She exhaled sharply and raised her hands to her mouth as tears formed in her eyes. “Oh my God!”
“It’s gonna be fine. You’re okay now.” Mike said, holding her as she wept.
It was then that she noticed his arms. She was engulfed by them, almost as if he’d grown. Clasping her wrists behind Mike’s back, she soon realised it wasn’t his arms that were bigger, it was her that was smaller. She pulled away from Mike’s encirclement and looked at her hands.
“Can you get me a mirror, plea
se?”
Although it wasn’t too dramatic, Mike knew she would not like what she saw. Rebecca wasn’t the vain sort, but she was a full figured size twelve all of her adult life and her time in the coma had allowed atrophy to take her down closer to a ten.
“Becca, you’re gonna be back to normal in no time.”
“Mike, please, I just wanna see.” She snapped back as she looked down at her slender arms.
Mike walked over to the table at the end of the room and picked up a small mirror that was sitting on top. Without a word, he handed it to Rebecca and sat back on the bed, waiting tentatively for her response.
“Guess I won’t be needing that gym membership for the next few weeks.” She said with a resigned smile. Mike took the mirror away from her and rubbed her shoulder.
“Becca, you look great. Best I’ve seen you in the last sixteen days anyway.” He said giving her a wink. “Everyone from work came in to see you. Ray even helped out, bringing stuff from the apartment.”
“Ah, tell him I said thanks. Any word from home?” Rebecca said with a lighter cough.
“Yeah, a few cards from your old work crowd at the Herald, Helen Kean from my old job rang to see how you were and of course Mark was here for a while.”
Rebecca saw his expression change at the mention of her brother. “What happened?”
Mike let out a sigh before answering.
“Ah, you know the way he can be. He flew over as soon as I rang him and stayed for a week. He lasted a day and a half before deciding to go for a drink. The next day, he arrived in here pissed and started on me.”
“Oh Jesus! Really?” Rebecca said rubbing her forehead in embarrassment.
“Yeah, security had to put him out.”
“God, I’m sorry Mike.”
“Don’t be silly, he’s not your problem. Anyway, he arrived back a few days later to apologise, so it was grand. He left the next day. You should give him a call to let him know you’re awake.”