Prepared to Die
Page 27
“So why Daniel. Why did he do it? Ten dead in Chester. Four dead in Blaine?” Daniel looked at her, picking up on her selective maths. “I’m not counting the two that died that day. I’m talking about the ones he planned.”
Daniel nodded, “Actually, your hunch about missing persons was spot on?”
Aitken looked at him over the cup's rim, swallowed, then said, “How come?”
“Got word this morning. Two bodies found in the woods two miles north of Blaine. Both reported missing, both apparent strangers.”
“Don’t you need to be there?”
“Cliff is - I’m taking the day off come hell or high water.” His forearm ached and he rubbed it.
“Why Daniel, why did he do it?”
“Every time I visit Charlotte, she seems to have connected another piece of memory. With River Dilettantes and the Dalgliesh kid seemingly having taken a vow of silence, she’s all we have. The last time I saw her, she recalled snippets of scripture that our Paul Dolton read to her whilst she was captive. It was about people being punished for their actions. Nixon was clearly a sadistic paedophile, as was Fallon - albeit a more discrete one. Jackson was obviously mixed up in shady financial dealings with Hewitt. Charlotte-” He paused, considering whether to continue. “This needs to stay between us. I mean it Aitken … to the grave.”
“Of course, what is it?”
“Charlotte stole marijuana from the pharmacy, to help my late wife, Alison.” He swallowed the last of his coffee, glancing past Aitken to make sure the Barista was still out of ear-shot. “And I helped her, encouraged her actually. My bet is that River Dilettantes stole the other missing drugs for Paul. Dolton, no doubt, had something on him too. Perhaps he was desperate to keep his homosexuality quiet - Blaine’s that sort of place. Anyway, whatever it was, Charlotte went out that night to kill two people who’d committed the same crime as her.”
“Turning sinner on sinner. Drugging the killers, preparing them to die. That’s your theory?”
“Until someone offers a better one.”
“How's Charlotte?”
“Getting there. Still pissed off at having to go round with that tag on her leg, but she knows it’s a small price to pay to stay with the kids whilst she awaits trial.”
“Do you really think it’ll go to court?”
“I’m fifty/fifty given what we know, the optimist in me says it’ll be thrown out - but I’m not letting myself consider the possibility. Even if she’s convicted, there’s a massive case for diminished responsibility … anyway, how are you fairing?”
“I’m okay. Blood levels are pretty much back to normal. I’m back in on Monday. I’ve got to check in with the shrink, but it’s just a formality.”
Aitken looked into her coffee's froth, sombre for a moment, then chuckled, shaking her head gently.
“What?”
“Hell of a case to ease you back to work, don’t you think?”
He sat back and took a moment to reflect on what she’d said; the first time he’d considered this: the end of a new beginning.
A sheepish smile spread across his lips, “Landed a stinker didn’t I … for my sins.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Epilogue
A scrawled journal was found in Mrs Tonks's home, behind the bath panel, taped to the far underside of the tub. Renovators found it eight months after the case was closed. The following is an extract of the final three pages.
There’s a better place for me, but it’s far, far from here. And the time is soon. I can feel it. I’ve run the flat surface of my sword’s blade across my wind-pipe on countless occasions, wondering what it would be like to adjust the angle of my grip, it would be so easy to let the blood flow, an exquisite release.
What stops me? The thought of one more pairing. Of ridding the world of just one more duo of sinners. I’m going to go anyway, why not take more with me? But not just anyone, I have no desire to hurt the innocent, or the trivial sinners. I’m after those who’ve committed mortal sin. If my access to Jacob’s confessional wasn’t such an important means to an end, it would be him. Oh he deserves it, he’s committed mortal sin. For all the times he lured me to his house when I was too young, for all the times he touched me. His time will come, I just need to find his perfect partner. I pity those abused children who limply sniffle their way through life until one day they’re sat on someone’s couch, spilling their guts.
An eye for an eye. There's beauty in that - a simplicity, a guiding strength.
Some days I think this hell of a life I’ve crafted is the perfect existence. I get to torment the Reverend for the rest of his life - however long I decide that life should be - picking off his sinners two by two.
The sinners they’re capped off two by two hurrah, hurrah!
After the first, I knew he would never expose me, it would be as much to expose himself. I know too much about what the Reverend did to Dalgliesh, and the others. He’ll never take his own life, he’s too self-absorbed for that. And so it will go on until I decide it doesn’t.
I often wonder how it feels for them, the other side of the curtain, admitting that they’ve performed indecent acts with children, or that they’ve lined their own pockets through destroying the lives of others. Do they feel absolved as I give them penance. Like somehow just telling me wipes the slate clean with God. Well … they soon discover the slate isn’t clean at all. It’s a filthy bulletin of their blood-stained confession. It is I who judge them, placing them before God. And this should not scare them … no … they should fear the punishing fires of hell which patiently await them.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Copyright © 2017 Peter Dudgeon
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United Kingdom
First printing, 2017
This book is a work of fiction names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events locals or persons living or dead is coincidental.