“You may or may not be aware of the disappearance of my son, Anthony. I’ve had no luck with the local police. They’re just a bunch of blithering idiots. Whatever you need from me is available to you on the proviso you look into my son’s case.”
Spencer jerked his head back as if he’d just been slapped. “I’m sorry, Mr Wilkins, are you blackmailing me?”
“Not at all, DCI Phillips. I’m merely suggesting a mutual exchange of services.”
Spencer folded his arms over his chest. “You are aware that you could be arrested right now for attempting to blackmail a police officer? Extortion, perverting the course of justice. This isn’t a mutual exchange of services. This is a police investigation that you’re legally obliged to help me with.”
William laughed. “What’s your price?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Come on, son. Everyone has a price. Even your bosses.” William winked. “Name your price.”
“I’m not for sale.”
“Oh sure, everyone is for sale for a certain price, believe me. You got a pretty girl back home you want to take on holiday? Maybe buy a special ring for? Hmmm?” The old man winked.
Spencer thought over his options. Maybe that could be the final way to win Evie over—take her somewhere exotic on holiday and pop the question. Finally make her his and stop her giving herself to other men.
Looking into a missing person’s case was still police work. How he came into doing it was just a small detail.
“Ok,” Spencer said. “I’m listening. Who’s your contact at the local police station.”
“Chief Constable Miller. Jolly old chap. Shouldn’t cause you too many problems. Name your price.”
Spencer chewed his lip. Twenty grand should do it. No, sod it. Twenty-five. “Twenty-five.”
William raised an eyebrow.
“You said name a price. That’s my price.”
“Is that all?”
Spencer’s mouth dropped. “You’ve paid people more than that?”
William chuckled. “Twenty-five grand is pocket change to me. How about I double it? Is that good for you?”
“You mean is that good to make sure I stay quiet?”
“Whichever way you want to look at it.”
Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. But you need to understand that these murders are my highest priority.”
“Sure,” replied Wilkins, already tapping away on his iPad. “What’s your boss’ name?”
Spencer laughed. “You’ve got no hope there.”
“Try me.”
“Robert Whitstable.”
William grinned. “Old Bob? Me and him go way back. Don’t you worry about him pressuring you. Consider it taken care of.”
Spencer looked at the man in front of him, baffled that someone could flash their cash like it was nothing. His whole blasé attitude was just wrong—it was as if everything to him was nothing more than a business transaction.
“Well if you don’t mind, Mr Wilkins, I have an investigation to be getting on with.”
“Sure. I’ll have my assistant drop off your cash. She’ll be here within the next ten minutes.”
“Because you have that kind of cash laying around?”
William looked up from his iPad and gave Spencer a sadistic smile. “My boy, money grows on trees for me.”
Chapter Twenty
Kyla
I’d arranged with Spencer, over email late last night, to meet him at The Black Iris this morning.
I pulled up, on time, outside the club, surprised to see that two cars were already here.
One was a black Mercedes with tinted windows. The other a sporty little BMW convertible.
I jumped out and headed around the back of the building, guessing he’d be starting with the murder scene outside.
What I didn’t expect, however, was to see the man responsible for my most horrific life tragedy—William Wilkins.
As I spotted the arrogant bastard, laughing and joking with DCI Phillips, I froze to the spot, not sure how to handle all the emotions fizzling through me.
One thing I did know—I wanted to rip his stupid fat head off his neck.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled when he saw me. “This is a crime scene. Clear off.”
I swallowed the ball of acidic bile rising in my throat and plastered a sickly-sweet smile on my face. “I’m here because DCI Phillips asked me to work on the case with him.”
Wilkins snorted. “And what could you possibly offer the police except something illegal?”
My top lip curled back in disgust. I hated this man almost as much as I hated his son and my mother. “I’m a criminologist, you stupid twat.”
“Since when?”
“Since I got a doctrate.”
He laughed. The arrogant bastard actually laughed at me. “What did you do? Magic it out of your arse?”
I could magick something out of your arse, mate.
“I’m guessing you two know each other?” DCI Phillips said, looking between us both.
I had to admit, he was a handsome guy, probably someone I’d consider going after if I didn’t have my current love life dilemmas going on.
“You could say,” I said. “I dated his son, once. Until he got me pregnant and this piece of shit here ordered an abortion.”
The detective raised an eyebrow. “Ok. I can see there’s a bit of tension between you. Perhaps it’s time for you to leave, Mr Wilkins.”
“This is my property,” he shouted. “And I don’t want her on it.”
“Well, I’m afraid she’s a part of this investigation.”
Wilkins turned his back to me and whispered something to the detective. I knew what he was doing. That was more predictable than a military defined operation.
“Offering to pay him off, William?” I shouted, grinning.
He turned around and glared at me with such hatred oozing from his eyes, it gave me chills.
The energy buzzing through me wanted to end his pathetic life right now. I’d been more than happy to exact my revenge on Tony and my mother but seeing this sack of shit again had uncovered all of those old feelings.
Perhaps one more kill was needed for old times sake.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kyla
Several taut minutes passed. Finally, Wilkins buggered off, giving me an evil glare as he passed me.
I couldn’t help but give him a cheery wave, just to piss him off for the day.
“Well, that was intense,” the detective said. “Quite a few high emotions there.”
“You have no idea what he’s capable of. Be very careful.”
“Oh I think I’ve got his sort worked out,” he replied. “I’ll be just fine.”
The funny smile on his face made me wonder if he had in fact allowed himself to be bought.
Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I raised the obvious question. “This is where one of the victims was found?”
“Yes,” he said, motioning towards the chalk outline on the floor. “This and the body in the toilets were the first two to be called in.”
I looked around me at the bleak car park behind the club. “There’s so many ways in and out of here.” I pointed to the running track a few hundred yards past the end of the car park. “That’s part of the sports complex further along the road. If they have cameras out on the field, they may have caught the suspect’s escape if they left that way.”
“I don’t get that kind of feeling. With the times of death being so near each other, it’s impossible to know which one of our victims died first. If we go on the theory the one in the toilets died first, then to bring a second victim out here would make for a good escape route after.”
“But…”
“But I’m going with a gut feeling here that this guy out here died first. Which means our killer then had the balls to go back inside the club and kill inside before walking out like a normal customer.”
I raised an e
yebrow and nodded. “If that is the case, we have a serious sociopath on our hands.”
“And how dangerous is that?”
“Basing it off your theory, if they’ve escalated that quickly to kill twice in the same night, putting themselves at severe risk of being caught, this is DEFCON 1 dangerous. There’s no telling’s what he’ll do next.”
“Well, there were two other victims across town, don’t forget. One in an apartment building and one outside the building.” He clicked his fingers. “That’s another link, possibly. Both scenes had a victim both inside and outside the building. What does that say to you?”
“That they’re greedy and opportunistic.”
He frowned at me. “How so?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, if you’ve just murdered someone, you’re going to be nervous, adrenaline pumping, high on the excitement of it as well. You leave the building but bump into someone outside. What makes you kill the first person you bump into?”
“Euphoria,” he said. “But if this guy here…” he pointed at the floor “…was the second guy to die, then that means the killer walked past the door staff, on their way back inside, ignoring the first person they technically saw.”
“So maybe this guy wasn’t the second guy to be killed.”
“But then that would mean the killer went back inside to commit another murder. Why would you go back into a building you’ve just exited to commit another crime?”
I laughed. “You’re trying to think too rationally. Nothing about murderers is rational. A rational mind will never understand an irrational one.”
“You’re telling me you’re irrational?”
“No. I’m just able to think outside the box of rationality. Just because it doesn’t make sense to us, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t make sense to them. You’re forgetting nothing with them makes sense. That’s the point. They’re driven by urges, desires, needs. Things like practicality and what would be seen as common sense don’t come into it.”
“I think we need to see the CCTV footage and see if we can work out which one of these guys died first. Then do the same with the apartment building and see where we go from there.”
“Ok, sure,” I said.
I tried to ignore the dread churning over and over in my gut, telling me something big was going on here.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After being bought by William Wilkins, Spencer couldn’t deny he was off his game a little.
When Mr Wilkins’ assistant appeared in a bright red Audi TT and handed Spencer a navy blue cooler bag, Spencer had found it impossible to keep it hidden from Kyla.
Laughing, she shook her head and said, “I knew it. I damn well knew he’d gotten to you.”
“Shut up,” Spencer replied, snapping at her. “If a word of this is breathed to anyone, I’ll know it was you.”
“And then what? You going to arrest me?”
The scowl that settled on Spencer’s face as he realised his predicament only fuelled Kyla’s hoots of laughter.
As they headed inside the club to the CCTV viewing station upstairs, Kyla dared to ask what the money was for.
“He wants me to look into the disappearance of his son. Apparently the local police are all useless.”
Kyla smiled and replied, “They are a bit.”
“You know anything about his disappearance? As an ex-girlfriend with a history like that, I’ll have to formally interview you.”
Kyla smiled and replied, “I know nothing, unfortunately.”
“So did you keep it?” Spencer asked, curious about the pregnancy.
Kyla pursed her lips. “I didn’t get a choice. After his delightful son threw me down the stairs a few times, and failed to induce a miscarriage, he drugged me and gave me a home abortion with a coat hanger.”
Spencer sucked in a deep breath. “Shit. That is some history. Are you…you know…alright?”
Kyla snorted. “I can’t have kids. And the bastard had been having an affair with my mum. Whilst I was laid in hospital on my death bed, they fucked off into the sunset, never to be seen or heard from again.”
Spencer fell silent. With someone capable of such an act, could it really be a surprise that he’d done a midnight flit? There was no telling what else he could have possibly done and to who. Maybe it was something his father’s bank account couldn’t fix.
Whatever the case, Spencer knew already he was going to be opening one almighty can of worms if he dug around in the case of Tony Wilkins.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arana
I slept well. When I woke at dusk, I didn’t feel as good as I did yesterday, but I knew that would be down to my shifting and not replenishing my energy levels. That meant food was my priority.
Lina was still sleeping, so I scrawled a quick note saying that I’d be back soon and she shouldn’t go anywhere so we could plan our evening with the marvellous detective.
Imagine my surprise when I skipped down the stairs and found the handsome detective hovering around outside Miles’ apartment door.
“Hi,” I said, giving him my biggest, flashiest smile. He was even more handsome in the flesh than what he was on the TV.
“Hello.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and flashed me his badge. “I’m DCI Spencer Phillips. I’m in charge of the investigation into the recent spate of murders that have unfortunately been happening around here.”
“Oh, yes. Terrible tragedies.”
A flicker of amusement trickled through his blue eyes. “Did you know Miles Hunter?”
I shook my head. “Not really. We’ve only been here a couple of days.”
“We?”
“My sister and I. We’re new to the area. This is our third day.”
“Interesting,” he said, scribbling something down in his small notepad. “And you are…?”
“Arana,” I replied, smiling. “Arana Wilkins.”
He cocked his head to one side and looked at me like I’d just sprouted three heads. “As in Mr Wilkins, the local MP?”
I didn’t even think about my answer. It just automatically flew off my tongue. “Yes, he’s my grandfather.”
“Huh. Interesting.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through something on the screen. “I guess your sister’s name is Lina?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because I have you down in my missing person’s file as being ten and eight years old and having not been seen for the last thirteen and a half weeks.”
Fuck. I stalled. I didn’t know what to say or do. How the hell was I explaining this one?
Just as I raced through my options in my mind, figuring that compulsion was my only choice here, a female voice sounded from inside the apartment.
“Spencer, are you there?”
Imagine my shock when the familiar face of my older sister, the murderous bitch who ruined our lives, appeared in the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kyla
After watching the CCTV footage of the club, we figured out that the guy outside, Chester, was indeed the first victim of the night.
What was ever more curious though was the fact that on the camera watching the doorway—the only way in and out of the club, Chester was seen walking outside alone.
That sealed it for me that this was a supernatural murder investigation. The next question was how the hell I tell the detective that and provide the evidence in an acceptable trail that’s admissible for court.
Spencer was now combing through theories that the killer must have been waiting outside before then entering the club after killing Chester.
I let him ramble on, quietly keeping the truth to myself as I tried to figure out a way to appease both the human and supernatural worlds.
On a mutual note, we were both now eager to find out how things had played out in the apartment building.
We headed to a coffee shop to grab a drink and a quick sandwich. We were both shocked to see we’d spent nearly all day watching and studyi
ng the CCTV footage of the club—it was nearly three p.m. already and with the clocks having changed last night, the light was already fading.
When we reached the apartment building, we went straight to the janitor’s office. All of the building surveillance was managed from there. We spent three hours trawling through the CCTV footage from outside the building and inside the entrance.
“They’re mad,” Spencer said, as he watched Miles seemingly walk into a wall and then talk to thin air. “Chester seemed to be talking to someone too as he went outside. Maybe they both have some kind of mental illness?”
I tried to quench the fire that automatically ignited inside me. Why did everybody always put everything down to mental illness? It’s almost as if there’s a mentality of ‘we don’t know what it is so we’ll call it mental illness.’ It seriously irked me.
“Or maybe we’re just not seeing what really happened,” I said, trying my best to offer something and nothing at the same time.
“It’s here in video clips, Kyla. The men are talking to themselves before they die.”
“Only Miles and Chester. The guy who died in the toilets, Simon, we have no clue about. And the other guy from this building, Peter, we haven’t watched his footage yet.”
“I’m still going with the theory mental illness is at play here.”
“And what? Their illness sucked all the blood from their bodies?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Nobody said anything about the blood being sucked.”
My heart did a double beat. Shit. “Sucked, drained, whatever. The point is the blood was removed from their bodies and we don’t know how.”
He continued staring at me for a few seconds, then turned his attention back to the screen.
“Here we go,” he said, clicking through the video footage from outside the building. “Here’s Peter.”
We watched in silence as the short, stout bodybuilder approached the front door of the building. He opened the glass door and stood to the side, as if waiting for someone to exit.
Unleashing Vampires: A paranormal revenge novel (Unleashing Series Book 2) Page 7