DARK JUSTICE

by Taylor Leon

  As our chanting came to an end, small black fragments rose from the ground inside the circle, rising up like burning paper on a bonfire, surrounding Crowther who tried unsuccessfully to brush them off. More and more of them gathering into a thick black cloud around him. He started twisting and turning as they rose faster and faster, smothering him in a blanket, until his shouts became screams. Then like some magic trick, they suddenly all fell away and disappeared into the ground, taking Crowther with them.

  Seconds later the bright light turned off. The sudden contrast made everything seem so much darker. I caught my breath. The level of concentration had been intense. One by one we dropped our arms and looked around the heath. There were a couple of figures in the distance, but it didn’t look as though anyone had seen us.

  I flipped open my compact. Jessie looked back at me. Plain-Jane Jessica Lane, as the other girls called her behind her back. It’s true, a bit of lippy and mascara wouldn’t go amiss, and she didn’t need to always tie her hair back so tightly.

  ‘It’s done,’ I said.

  ‘The CCTV camera films along his running route have all been deleted,’ Jessie said. ‘An e-mail was written to his girlfriend and will be sent from his account later this evening. It explains that he needs some space and time after the trial and is going away for a while. It asks her to let his family and other friends know.’

  ‘Good work, Jess,’ I said and closed the compact.

  We remained in our circle, silent for several more minutes. No matter how many times we did this, I for one still needed to pause and contemplate what we had done, the power we had unleashed, the rules of the natural world we had broken. Not to mention British law and order.

  I don’t plan to do this forever. One day I’ll settle down with a husband and kids. But for now, this is me.

  Me and the girls.

  We’re not bad people. In fact, we are very good. We provide justice and hope where there isn’t any. We put the scum away who think they’re immune, those who believe they’ve outsmarted the law, and who have left broken lives in their wake.

  We are those victims’ justice. Their vengeance.

  I am Erin Dark, and we are The Coven.

  3

  I LEFT THE others there and headed home.

  Home was a small, third floor, two-bedroom flat in another posh North-West London suburb called Pinner.

  It had just gone eight thirty when I let myself in. Sampson, my darling schnoodle, was at the door almost scratching his way through to get to me when he heard the key in the lock.

  ‘How are you sweetie?’ I said, bending down to ruffle the fur on his back, kicking the door closed behind me. I lifted the post off the mat. A couple of flyers for a new pizza restaurant and an Indian take away, the rest looked like more bills.

  Sampson followed me through into the kitchen diner, where I slung my mac over one of the bar stools and dumped my handbag and the envelopes on the Formica top.

  I saw a red light flashing on my landline. Only Dad ever left messages on there, never on my mobile, worried he’d be disturbing me at work.

  Sure enough, when I hit the play button there was the deep baritone voice that even Sampson, looking up at the machine, recognised right away.

  ‘Hello Erin, it’s me. Just ringing to see how you are. Feels like I haven’t seen you for ages. Probably been a couple of weeks at least. I spoke to your sister yesterday; she sends her love. Says she hopes to come over in the New Year. No idea where Toby is at the moment. Have you spoken to him? Well, anyway. Call me when you have a second. I know how busy you are.’

  I looked down at Sampson, my best friend. ‘Where do you reckon Toby is huh? Think he’s getting himself into trouble somewhere?’ I laughed when he tilted his head at me, almost as though he were nodding his head in agreement.

  ‘Yeah probably,’ I said, and lifting him up by the scruff of his neck, I gave him a kiss.

  I made him some dinner, and then once he had his head in his bowl, left him and went to the bathroom

  It was only once I climbed into the piping hot bubble bath and felt my muscles relax, that I realised how tired and tense I’d been.

  I slid down, so my head was just above the water and closed my eyes, slowly feeling myself relax and drift away….

  ****

  Kelly Crowther was standing alone in a small forest clearing, dressed in that same navy tracksuit. The girls weren’t there; it was just me. He was smiling and beckoning me towards him.

  I took a few steps nearer. He was about two hundred yards away, and motioning me to come closer. Everything around us was dark grey and insipid. Up close now, I could see how pale his face was with grey smudges around the eyes. He looked ill. Like he hadn’t slept for days.

  ‘I’ve come back for you Erin Dark,’ he croaked.

  As I closed the distance between us to about six feet, he lunged forward and I instinctively fell back. Looking up at him standing over me, his mouth opened wide, revealing a deep black cavern. Then opening wider still, until his whole face turned inside out like some hideous plastic mask, folding on itself again and again, until it disappeared completely and there was just a hole in its place. Small black demons, hundreds of them, poured out and like a swarm of bees headed towards me. I tried to cover myself with my forearm, my eyes squeezed shut, as they swirled around pushing and buffeting me until I was ready to throw up. My screams mingled with the other anonymous cries that reverberated through the forest.

  Then it all stopped abruptly.

  I’d woken up.

  I dropped my forearm, opened my eyes and sat up. I was in my parents’ bedroom late at night, on the floor in the corner, outside the familiar warm glow of their bedside lamp. Their double bed was made, but empty.

  Laura Brannigan was lying across the room on the floor, a naked figure on top of her, pinning her to the carpet, pounding into her body as she cried out in pain. Even as she clawed at her attacker’s face, he raised his body and laughed, raised a fist and brought it down hard against the side of her head.

  ‘You like it rough huh?’ he growled. I couldn’t see his face, but I recognised Kelly Crowther’s voice, as he lifted his body again and thrust even deeper into her, provoking even louder screams.

  Screams that melted away into another sound I recognised, one that had haunted me for fourteen years.

  My mother had replaced Laura on the floor and was crying out, resigned terror in her eyes as she looked across at me. Tears rolled down my eyes. I was a helpless little girl all over again, reaching out to her but powerless to help.

  And then Kelly Crowther turned to look back at me.

  Only it wasn’t him.

  It was the face that was emblazoned in my mind. The face I saw every waking day and sleepless night. The receding hairline, a couple of days’ dark stubble, and a small scar above his left eyebrow.

  ‘You’re next.’ His laugh surrounded and echoed all around me…

  ****

  There was a bang and my eyes shot open. My body swished around in the bath water and some of it splashed up over the side

  The dreams never stopped.

  Death and destruction following me like a curse.

  ****

  My evenings at home follow the same lazy pattern. A short walk around the block with Sampson, then back for some dinner before curling up on the sofa to watch a box-set drama series or a movie. Sampson rests on my lap, as together we munch our way through a bag of sweetened popcorn and I manage a glass or two of rose wine, until either the program ends or I feel myself drifting off. Then I try to force myself up and into bed. Sometimes I just about make it.

  ****

  I drowsily looked over at the digital clock. 00:23

  I climbed out of bed and went next door into the bathroom, flicking on the light and locking the door behind me.

  I saw myself in the wall mirror under the harsh light. I looked tired.

  I reached into the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a small box of l
ipsticks. Underneath the top layer were a couple of photos I kept hidden away.

  One was the last picture of my mother, taken by my Dad on that fateful day, when we were all in the garden enjoying the warm sun. I look at the photo almost every day, always amazed at how young we three kids looked. Toby, eleven back then, had his arms wrapped around me. Mom was standing between myself and Rachel. She looked so happy, and so proud. How could anyone have believed that in a few hours’ time everything would change forever?

  I exchanged that picture for the next photo in the box. I don’t know who took this one, it came from an old police file. It showed a fortyish unshaven man with short dark hair, dressed in a black polo neck and chinos, standing in a backyard. It reminded me of that photo of Lee Harvey Oswald, the guy they say killed President Kennedy; the picture where he’s standing in his backyard, holding a rifle and smiling.

  I stared at the man who had driven me forward and given me purpose for the last fourteen years.

  Edward Cryle, the man who killed my mother and left me for dead, smiled back.

  Mocking me, challenging me.

  4

  I DEAL IN death. That’s been my lot in life, but it can’t go on like this forever.

  ‘Two bodies, both male, burnt to a crisp,’ the uniformed officer said as I climbed out of my car. ‘They’re out and away. We’re just waiting for I.Ds.’

  I looked over his shoulder at the blackened building. Another abandoned youth centre, left a couple of years back to slowly rot due to a lack of government funding. The general election was only six weeks away, and I hoped we were going to kick the bastards out.

  The fire-brigade had been and gone. It had taken them a good couple of hours to put the fire out.

  I spotted my new partner in the small crowd, he was the only one there not in uniform. A smart dark suit and open neck shirt. Tall, with thick sandy coloured hair and a neat stubble, he came over with a wide smile and hand extended.

  ‘You must be Erin,’ he said.

  ‘Detective Inspector Cade?’

  ‘Please, call me John.’

  I shook his hand, feeling a little awkward meeting my new partner for the first time at a crime scene like this.

  As if he read my mind he said. ‘I know this isn’t ideal. I think the boss would have rather made the introductions at the Station House.’

  ‘Needs must,’ I said weakly, then nodded towards the building. ‘Accident?’

  Cade shook his head. ‘No chance. Both tied up and one of the bodies has a bullet in its head.’

  He looked over my shoulder at the growing crowd of on-lookers on the other side of the blue and white tape. POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. A few journos there ready with their cameras and notepads.

  ‘We’re going to have to give them something,’ he muttered.

  A Uniform came over to us.

  ‘We’ve got a name,’ he said.

  Cade turned away from the expectant reporters.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘There’s a navy Audi parked over on the far side. It was the only vehicle unaccounted for. Belongs to a Richard Hall.’

  I stepped back. There were a few more cars there now, but I thought I could make it out.

  ‘Someone been in touch?’ I asked.

  ‘Mrs Hall called it in in the early hours of this morning. She was worried when her husband didn’t come home.’

  ****

  It takes a certain type of person to be able to tell a stranger that the person they love may be dead.

  Mrs Hall was a tall slim fortyish woman, with striking green cat-like eyes. Her face was deathly pale as she opened her door to us.

  She knew.

  Cade held up his ID. ‘Mrs Hall? I’m Detective Inspector Cade, and this is Detective Sergeant Dark. Can we come in please?’

  She stood immobile in the doorway.

  ‘Richard?’ she whispered.

  ‘Mrs Hall, please can we come in,’ Cade repeated. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. This needs a woman’s touch, he wanted to say.

  I stepped forward and gently cupped her elbow.

  ‘Please Mrs Hall,’ I said softy, almost in a whisper.

  She turned away leaving the door open and walked back down the hallway, disappearing into what I assumed was their living room.

  I looked back at Cade, who nodded and then followed me over the threshold, gently shutting the door behind us.

  Mrs Hall was sitting on a cream leather sofa, in front of a large bay window that looked out onto the street. She kept her head bowed as though she was hoping she could hide from whatever bad news we had brought to her.

  ‘Mrs Hall,’ Cade said. ‘I understand you called us last night when your husband didn’t come home.’

  She nodded without looking up.

  Cade glanced at me, then quietly cleared his throat. ‘We found your husband’s car Mrs Hall.’

  She lifted her head slightly at that point.

  ‘And Richard?’ she said.

  I stepped a couple of paces back so I could see the framed photos on the sideboard. Three pictures of just the two of them, then a couple of a teenage boy and girl.

  ‘Mr Hall’s car was parked near a youth centre, about five miles from here,’ Cade said. ‘Any idea why your husband would have gone there?’

  She shook her head. ‘He got a call around nine last night. Said he just had to pop out and wouldn’t be long. I tried calling him, but it kept going straight to voicemail. In the end, I panicked and phoned you.’

  ‘Any idea who called him?’

  ‘No.’ Her reply was sharp. She was hiding something.

  ‘Your children?’ I asked tilting the photo of the boy and girl towards her.

  ‘They’re Richard’s kids. From his first marriage.’

  ‘Have you spoken with either of them this morning?’

  ‘No, I didn’t want to worry them.’

  John Cade knelt in front of her, craning his neck forward so he was looking up at her.

  ‘Mrs Hall,’ he said gently. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’

  She stared straight back at him, but said nothing.

  ‘Mrs Hall, your husband’s car was found in an abandoned youth centre car park,’ he continued. ‘The youth centre burned down during the night.’

  There was a long pause as he tried to find the right words.

  ‘We recovered two bodies,’ he added softly.

  ‘You think one of them is Richard?’ Her voice was shaking as she tried desperately to hold herself together.

  ‘We don’t know yet. I hope not. But…’ Cade let the sentence hang and rose to his feet.

  I felt my mobile vibrate and pulled it out to read the incoming text.

  ONE BODY FIFTY SOMETHING. SECOND BODY LATE TEENS. BULLET IN HEAD.

  I re-looked at the photos. At Richard. At his son. Was his the second body?

  Cade was suddenly at my shoulder. I held the phone up and he read the message.

  He reached over and lifted the framed 7x5 photo of Richard Hall with his wife, and a second one of his children, and turned to face Mrs Hall. She was looking up now, her eyes bloodshot red.

  Cade held the pictures up.

  ‘Can we borrow these?’

  She nodded in reply, mumbled something I couldn’t make out, and just stared blankly ahead as the shock set in.

  Cade looked at me to say something.

  ‘We have a couple of officers waiting outside who are going to come and sit with you for a while,’ I said to her. ‘If that’s okay?’

  She didn’t give any reaction. Cade motioned to the door, saying we should leave and let the Uniforms take over here for now.

  ‘I just need to make some calls,’ she said finally, in a voice that was barely above a whisper. We both nodded as she glided past us and went into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her.

  Outside, we spent a couple of minutes bringing the two PCs up to speed before sending them indoors.

  I was
just about to climb back into the car when the boss called me on the mobile.

  ‘You’ve met your new partner,’ Arnie Shenker growled down the phone. It was a statement not a question.

  I looked at Cade out of the corner of my eye as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. He looked back at me with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Yeah, he’s here with me,’ I said. ‘We’re just following up on the bodies found in the youth centre-’

  ‘I know what you’re doing,’ Arnie cut across. ‘That’s why I need you both back at the station right away. I’ve just had a call from upstairs. We have a motive.’

  5

  OUR BOSS DCI Arnie Shenker was dressed immaculately, even in the late-afternoon heat, his tie pushed up tight, his dark suit and crisp white shirt exuding authority.

  Cade in contrast was perched on the edge of his desk, feet resting on his chair in front of the desk fan, tieless with his grey shirt sleeves rolled up, toying lightly with an empty Styrofoam cup.

  ‘So Richard Hall is the vic,’ Cade nodded at the board of photos. ‘That’s now confirmed.’

  Smiling faces in the top left corner; the photos we’d taken from Mrs Hall.

  ‘Richard Hall. Real name Richard Kane. Once an active member of the National Identity Group he turned supergrass six years ago.’

  Arnie nodded his thick bulldog neck at the photo next to that. A young teenager who had had his whole life in front of him.

  ‘And you’re going to tell me the other vic was his son,’ he added.

  ‘After Richard Kane started giving up his NID friends,’ Cade said, ‘he and his first wife split up. He went into the witness protection program and changed his name to Hall. She took the kids and reverted back to her maiden name, Shelby.’

  Cade dropped his empty cup into a wastepaper basket and stepped up to the board. He looked over the pictures of the inside and outside of the gutted youth centre.

  ‘Then he re-married Linda.’

  ‘And I get a call saying we may have something more than a murder by numbers,’ Arnie said.