She stopped, lay still, and it was as if she willed her eyes to penetrate the dark and search out the danger. Good, it was time to start.
***
Sara fought against the straps that held her with everything she had. A cold, hard panic had settled in her stomach and momentarily frozen her limbs, but that would not get her out of this. She was a fighter, and she would fight. Where was she? As the question entered her mind, so did the answer. It was her kitchen; she could feel the tiled work surface, the one she always intended to change. That meant she was still at home. It was hard to stay calm when you were strapped naked to the counter, not knowing why or by who, but she must. If she was to survive this, she must think.
As she thrashed with all her might, four straps dug into her skin. One across her ankles prevented her from moving her feet from side to side, but maybe she could bend her leg and pull backward.
The second strap was across her thighs, and it held her legs down so hard that she did not have enough movement to move her lower legs and free her feet. The third strap held her hips down tight, and the fourth was above her breasts. Harder, she struggled as panic took full control. She bucked and convulsed her body, tried to shake her arms, and pound her legs, but the only thing moving was her head and neck, and that just caused her pain. At last, exhaustion made her lie still, and that was when she noticed the pain in her back. It felt like she had been sliced open, and salt had been rubbed into the wounds.
Controlling her breathing, controlling her panic, she tried to keep still, to adjust to the dark, and to work out who would do this to her. No one came to mind. A light came on, subdued but stark. Someone was in front of her, but they were in silhouette, and she could not make out features, only the size. Five-foot eight or nine, athletic build, and that was it. The face was a blank… No, as her eyes adjusted, she could see they wore a mask. Amongst the fear came a sparkle of hope. If she never saw their face, then maybe they would let her live?
That hope died when she saw the knife. It glinted in the subdued light, and the glow seemed to trickle down the serrations until it hit the hilt. It was big, and it was made to tear rather than to cut. If he stuck her with that, then she had no chance. Beneath the ball-gag, she screamed, but all that escaped around its rubber sides was a whimper that sounded like a puppy beaten by its owner.
The knife rose above her and stopped, filling her vision, then it plunged toward her face. Faster and faster it came, she closed her eyes and shrank back into the table. Nothing. Breath held, she waited, and then a breeze touched her face. She opened her eyes. The knife was there just above her, and so was the mask, again the breeze they were blowing onto her, and it caused her spine to spasm and her heart to skip a beat.
The knife withdrew, and she took a breath into aching lungs. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but she must not cry, she must stay strong. Again, the knife pulled back, and again, it plunged down. This time it punched her in the shoulder. It felt like her arm went dead, but as the knife withdrew, pain seared through the wound like a red hot poker, and she felt the warm, wet blood spurt out and run down her body. This time the panic took hold and would not give in. She screamed and fought and screamed, but nothing happened. She could not move and could not fight, and again, she was punched. This time in the right side of her stomach. At first, it was a dull pain. Then, the blade was moved in the wound, and she had never felt such agony. Even when her appendix burst, it had been nothing like this.
Madness took her mind, and she rode out the next attack on a wave of delirium. There was no fear, just panic, and insanity, but she could feel weakness now. Loss of blood was slowing her mind, slowing her body. She knew that she had to do something important, but she wanted to hide from the pain. Wanted to sleep and as the knife tore into her gut, she passed out and quietly drifted away as her blood spilled onto the work surface and ran down onto the floor.
***
The girl let out her last exhalation, and the hunter was filled with euphoria. That death rattle, that breath was almost orgasmic. It made all the weeks of planning and following worthwhile. Tonight had gone quicker than expected. It just showed that it didn’t take long to build up skill. There was still a good forty minutes until the sun was up. But the job was not done, one more procedure was necessary the bitch would not be allowed to keep seeing. What was burned on her retinas was not for them, it had to be removed. It had to be kept, preserved, and savored.
The knife felt heavy, it was late, and fatigue was becoming a problem. Still, at the excitement of the task to come, endorphins kicked in, and the job became easier. It was important not to damage the face, so the knife was slipped under the eye and moved around. Slowly cutting away any retaining tissue and then scraped under the eye, it sliced through the optic nerve. Then the eye could be scooped out by the fingers. The leather gloves were not designed for this, and it was messy. Pressure had to be applied, but the eyes must not be damaged. They were important. They were part of the plan.
The first one was pulled out with a sucking sound and dropped into a plastic container. It plopped down and rolled over, so it appeared to be looking back at itself. The next one was harder and squished between the gloves. It took a firm grip and was mashed out of shape, leaking the optic fluid all down the gloves and back into the socket.
Satisfied with the night’s work, the lid on the container was closed, now she must be cleaned and prepared. Nothing must be left to chance, no evidence could be found, and the best way to do that was with a chemical stripping agent that would remove any stray DNA.
Chapter Eleven
Detective Inspector Merlin walked to the crime scene tape, feeling like shit. Sleep had eluded him last night, but that was not the reason for the soul-crushing despair he felt. It was knowing there was another body. Another girl had been tortured, and he had let it happen. If only he had been able to keep Nick Bellamy locked up. Or if he had been able to get a warrant to search his place, then maybe he wouldn’t have to see someone’s baby carved up like a Christmas dinner.
Mary, the coroner, was already here. She bent over the body, her wiry frame fitter than most people half her age.
“What do we have?” Merlin asked, but he already knew, and as the older woman stepped to one side, he couldn’t prevent the gasp that left him. Like the previous two women, her head was bent back, so she was looking behind her. Once more, the eye sockets were empty, lined with blood which had leaked down like some macabre mascara. It was the only place on the body that the perp left blood. Every other inch would have been cleaned, and as far as they could tell, there was no sexual activity.
He turned to Mary, her short gray hair was neat and tidy, and her eyes sharp, though even she looked a little tired. Maybe this case was getting to the old bird, but he doubted she would ever show it. “Same as all the others?” he asked.
Mary held a small recorder, but she did not need her notes, her memory was fine, and somehow, Merlin thought this one would be etched on it for a long time.
“Too similar to be anyone else,” she said. “We have eight wounds in total. I’m not sure if this is significant, that is for you to decide. There is no correlation between organs, as with the other girls, the wounds are placed in a similar configuration but not identical. I haven’t turned her over, but there is bruising on her side, so I imagine that we have a blow from behind to the kidney area. There is something I’ve wondered about the wounds on the other girls. Before, it has never been conclusive, but this time it is. Some of the mutilations were done post mortem, as were the final two wounds. Here.” Mary pointed to the long wound down the girl’s chest and to the one across her stomach. “In this latter wound, the skin was pulled back to form an opening. I do not believe that was staged, I think it is the beginning of the buildup of decomposition gasses, but of course, I could be wrong.”
It’s a smile, Merlin thought. The bastard gave her a smile.
“You can see the viscera through the wound, just like the othe
r two. That’s all I have Detective until I get her back to my lab. Oh.” She reached down and picked up an evidence bag. “This was next to the body.”
Merlin felt the world stop as she handed him the plastic. Inside was a card, a bloody business card, and the name on it was Nick Bellamy.
***
Nick sat in the interview room, his stomach churning as he fought that dizzy feeling, the one you get just before you faint. Next to him was a tall man, slightly bald with a bit of a paunch and a suit that looked like it hadn’t been pressed for months. He had a lawyer, one Sadie had found for him, but so far, Mr. Craig Wright wasn’t filling him with confidence.
Merlin walked in, nodded to both men, and put a folder on the tatty old table. “I want to thank you both for coming in to help us today,” he said.
Nick felt his stomach clench, why was he being so nice? This had to be a trap.
“My client is always happy to help the police,” Craig said. “Now, perhaps you could enlighten us as to why we are here?”
Merlin opened the file, and Nick felt like he was sucker-punched. The breath left him, his stomach cramped, and he had to fight the vomit that rose in his throat. Luckily he had hardly eaten in the last few days, and there was nothing for his stomach to evacuate. “What…?” Was all he could manage.
Merlin smiled, this was not quite the reaction he wanted, but it would do. The guy obviously didn’t like looking at his kills. Curious that, most sickos reveled in it. They would try and hide it, but there was a shortness of breath, a look in their eyes of rapture, but not Nick. Of course, the photo had been of Sara Plimpton after her autopsy.
“Sorry, how did that get in here?” Every time Nick Bellamy saw one of the girls, his reaction was to vomit, why? Shaun’s theory that he had a split personality came to mind, so how do I prove it?
Merlin closed the file covering the photo and watched both Nick and Craig breathe a sigh of relief. Both of them had turned a sickly green, and he could tell the lawyer was out of his depth. In fact, they couldn’t have been luckier if they had chosen him personally. Craig was well known for his bumbling, and Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he had won a case.
“Here, this is the photo I wanted you to look at,” Merlin said and pulled a picture of the naked Sara from his file. It was taken from above, and she looked like a porcelain doll floating on the green grass. If not for the wounds and her eyes, it would have been quite an arty shot. “Do you know this girl?”
Nick’s face drained of what little color he had left. In fact, he was the shade of a three-day dead corpse, and his mouth opened and closed as his eyes got wider. At last, he found his voice. “How would I know, she… she’s… dead?”
Merlin had expected butchered or slaughtered, the word dead didn’t fit with this type of killer, it threw him off his game. It was something someone would say in shock. Nick’s look, the word was, in fact, what he would expect from an innocent. Nick was not behaving like the hardened killer that Merlin expected. Maybe he was a good actor, or maybe he was two people, and this one knew nothing about the crimes. Then what about this picture? He slid a photocopy of her enlarged drivers’ license across to him. It was grainy, but a good likeness.
“Oh God,” Nick said. “She looks like…”
“No more questions,” Craig butted in. I need to speak to my client alone.”
Well, perhaps the lawyer wasn’t going to be such a pushover, after all? Merlin nodded and left the room, but he had something. They had noticed all the girls were similar, but then most killers had a type. Yet Nick had intimated that they all looked like someone, so now all he had to do was find out whom.
While the two men colluded, he would find a picture of Nick’s wife and any old girlfriend’s, of his mom. The business card in the evidence bag made the file weigh a ton. Merlin had thought about using it first to see Nick’s reaction, but in the heat of the interview had decided to hold it back. To see what they came up with and then drop the bombshell of the card. Any good lawyer would be able to discount it. Where they found the body was close to Nick’s house, and he used the track regularly but, Merlin hoped that Craig would not continue to surprise them.
A quick search on the computer and Nick was able to pull up Sadie Bellamy’s driver’s license. As the picture came into focus, he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. Could feel the pulse-pounding in his neck. He didn’t need to look up any other women, she was a dead ringer for the first victim and very closely matched to the other two. Having seen this picture, it was easier to see the resemblance, and Merlin knew he had him; all he needed now was some solid evidence. There was enough for a warrant, of that he was sure. With a dry throat and a rising sense of urgency, he pulled up the computer form and started filling in the details. It was eight-thirty in the evening if he could find a magistrate then the warrant could be ready in minutes.
Merlin spent the next hour filling in the form and phoning around, trying to get hold of someone to agree to issue the warrant. It was there ready to be emailed over, but so far, he had struck out on finding anyone working. The shift magistrate was Barbara Newman, but she had called in sick. That was one of the frustrations of living in a small town. Nick had kept ringing, all he needed was to get hold of someone who could sign, but every number he tried just rang and rang. It looked like fate was against him.
“Sorry,” PC Strike said as he came up to Merlin. “The desk Sergeant says we have to let him go unless you have enough to hold him?”
Merlin felt the bottom drop out of his world, and it took his stomach with it. The card was circumstantial; in fact, everything they had was circumstantial. There was no evidence except that this guy found the first victim, he knew the second and thought the third looked like his wife. It had to be him, but what did he have? Just a business card and a hunch. “Okay, cut him loose and then come back here. I have a job for you.”
Merlin was already an hour over his shift, but there was no way he was going home tonight, not until this bastard was locked behind bars, and the women of Donborough could walk home safe again.
PC Strike rushed back all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and Merlin handed him a warrant and a list of addresses. “Drive around these, you know the magistrates?”
Strike nodded.
“Great, find me one and get that signed. My mobile number is on the bottom.”
Chapter Twelve
Nick drove the car home in a daze. He was out, but the police really believed he was killing those girls. It seemed surreal until you realized how much they looked like Sadie. Would she be home? Why had she lied about last night? Had she lied… maybe he knew nothing about himself and about his wife? All the questions just made him feel so tired. In fact, he was exhausted, yet he had slept half the morning and done nothing all day. Maybe he should go for a run? It was dark and late, but the garage had a treadmill, and maybe his body was tired because he hadn’t been training much?
Turning into the drive, a smile crossed his face as he saw the welcoming glow of lights. She was home.
“Hi, Sadie, I’m home,” he called.
She rushed through from the kitchen, her face lined with worry. “I’ve been calling, wondering where you were. Did they really keep you all this time?”
Nick rushed to her and pulled her into his arms and was relieved when she leaned into him, her body soft and comforting. Sometimes she would shove him away when he tried to hug her, but tonight he needed the security to know she was there.
“It was awful,” he said. “Three girls have been murdered, brutally murdered. Oh, God Sadie, you would not believe what has been done to them, and the idiot police think I did it because I found the first body. I mean, what idiot killer would report his own kill?”
Sadie chuckled in his ear and then pulled away. “The main thing is you’re safe and home. I was really worried about you, and I felt so guilty when the police asked me if you were home all night.”
Nick put some distance between them and sat down at the
table. “But I was home all night, and since when have you taken sleeping tablets?”
“Always,” she said. “I’ve had a prescription now for over a year. And Nick, you went out last night. I heard the back door and then the back gate open. Now I’m sorry, love, but I have to go to work. There’s trouble at the lab.”
“Can’t you stay a little longer,” he asked, cringing at the whiny sound of his own voice. “Maybe we could get a bite to eat?”
Sadie checked her watch and laughed a light sound. “I can sneak half an hour. Sit there, let me get you some toast.”
There was a smile on her face, a lightness to her step that Nick had not seen in a while. Who knows, maybe this would do their marriage good? Yet if he were honest, he knew why she was happy, she loved her job, and like a wet weekend, he had backed down and let go of his dreams of children. Part of him wanted to talk to her, to mention it again, but he was so tired it would just have to wait.
She had her back to him and worked busily, buttering the toast. While Nick could not see, her hand slipped into her pocket, and she pulled out a small brown bottle. Taking off the lid, she squeezed two drops into his drink. As she stirred the coffee, she secreted the bottle away before he noticed.
Nick’s eyes were closed as a plate was put before him, and the scent of freshly cooked toast drifted between them. Now it was him that was grinning. “Thanks,” he said before grabbing hold of the buttery deliciousness and taking a bite.
“My pleasure. You need to eat more I think you’ve lost weight. I made you a coffee as well. Why not drink it then go for a run?”
Nick nodded, chewing the toast. It felt really good to have food in his stomach, and just maybe he would go for that run. Sadie watched him as he took a drink. They would get through this, and he could wait two years. It was only fair that he gave her that time, and then they would have children. The thought put a smile on his face.
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