Hurt (The Hurt Series)

by Reeves, D. B.

  Jessop squirmed. ‘No. I haven’t.’

  ‘It’s a good trick. One of his best, if you ask me.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you.’

  ‘You see, that’s all God is, a cheap con artist who gives with one hand and robs us with the other when we’re not looking. He knows without pain and suffering He can’t exist. What would be the point of Him in a world of perpetual happiness? He’d have no purpose. So to keep His name on everyone’s lips, He inflicts tragedy on us, just to remind us He’s still The Man, and that we shouldn’t take what He’s given us for granted. And then what do we do, we call on Him for help to get us through the hardship and ease our pain, when all the time He was the one that caused it.’ Chambers tilted his head up toward her. ‘And you think I’m fucked-up?’

  She’d heard similar rantings before, but none spoken with such calm assuredness. Usually the speaker was wild eyed and crazed. Chambers was right in that he was not like the others she had caught, but only as far as he wasn’t trying to escape from his restraints by chewing his hands off. And, of course, less she forgot, he had caught her.

  Chambers stretched his long, slender fingers and looked back to the carpet between his feet. She considered the fingers and how many lives they had taken.

  ‘Don’t worry, Detective, I don’t expect you to understand.’

  ‘Good, because I don’t. But I am curious about one thing. If you regard God as such a fraud, then why are you trying to emulate him? I mean, aren’t your actions contradicting your beliefs?’

  Chambers shook his head. ‘No, because I don’t believe in God. I’m not doing what I’m doing for adulation. I’m doing it because people need to take a minute to stop and think and re-evaluate their lives. Complacency and ignorance are what’s really killing society, not the likes of me. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, standing on that street corner these last couple of months. Everyone’s bitching about the price of this and the price of that, about how unfair it is that the shops close early, or that their favourite TV programme’s been cancelled, or that their boss is a twat and they didn’t get a measly two-percent pay rise this year. Big fucking deal. Try living in a fucking war zone for a month. Try holding your best friend’s guts in with your hands for half a day with a face full of burning metal, knowing you may die without saying goodbye to your daughter.’

  She noted a small break in Chambers’ voice when he mentioned his daughter. Behind her all was quiet. She knew the girls were still there, and that whatever Chambers had planned they would be safe. Because if it came down to a choice between Mason and the girls, there would be no choice, and she would have to apologise to Mason’s family later.

  Chambers clasped his hands back together and squeezed tight. ‘People need to understandlife’s lessons aren’t taught through wisdom but through suffering and hardship.’

  ‘And the pain they feel is the breaking of the shell that encloses that understanding, right?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Chambers looked up to her. ‘But not in your case, right?’

  ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘February 18th, 1977.’

  The day her family was butchered. ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘You ever think where you’d be now if that sick fuck Hoyt hadn’t taken offence to your father’s report about his baby murdering bitch of a girlfriend? Hadn’t knocked on your door that day with his veins full of heroine and vengeance?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘And where do you think you’d be now if you hadn’t been hiding behind that sofa when your mum answered the door?’

  ‘Shut your fucking mouth!’

  ‘I’m not one for coincidences, Detective, but like your enemy, you cannot ignore fate. I mean, think about it. You and me, right here, right now, in this city where we were both born at this point in our lives. The hunter and the hunted, both of us at the top of our games, our paths paved by the horror of having to watch loved ones die before us. Kindred spirits. Incredible, don’t you think?’

  She didn’t. Neither did she believe in fate, but she was not going to get into a debate about it.

  ‘One of us, though, has learned from our past.’ Chambers glanced at her. ‘The other has not. She cannot find meaning in it all. It’s as if she thinks she deserves to suffer the perpetual torment of her past. A penance she must perform for not being found behind the sofa that day whilst her family were tortured and killed. Survivor guilt syndrome, they call it.’ Chambers chewed on his bottom lip. ‘Do you know what I call it?’

  Jessop didn’t. All she knew was she wanted Chambers to stop talking. Her finger curled around the trigger.

  ‘I call it a wasted life,’ Chambers whispered. ‘That hotel room you locked yourself in… You weren’t just in there for two months. You’ve been in that room watching yourself die for the last thirty-six years. You just needed someone to make you realise it. Someone to make you try to find some meaning in your suffering and break the shell of your understanding.’ Chambers nodded to himself. ‘We all need a little guidance, Detective. No shame in it. And I promise you, soon you’ll thank me, just as all the others will.’

  ‘The fuck she will, you fucking freak!’ Chloe’s shrill voice ignited every one of Jessop’s nerves.

  Over her shoulder, she yelled, ‘Go in the kitchen and close the door − now!’

  ‘But − ’

  ‘Do it!’ She didn’t look back, keeping both eyes on Chambers, who was watching the girls disappear into the kitchen. When finally she heard the door close, she said, ‘If you know so much about me, then you’ll know I’ll do anything to protect my daughter. And if that means fulfilling your list and sacrificing Scott Mason to save her, I’ll do it without hesitation.’

  Chambers shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’d do the same if my daughter was threatened. Thing is, though, Chloe’s in no danger. Neither are you or Vicky. I’ve done my part to help you all. Now its up to you.’

  Jessop bit down hard on her gums, thinking about Samantha splayed across her kitchen floor. And Vicky, having to stare at her own shivering reflection in the pool of her beloved mother’s blood. ‘Did Samantha die because of me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The word speared her heart. Her worst fear had just become reality: Vicky was an orphan because of her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’d lost your edge. You were too preoccupied thinking about your wedding. I mean, you didn’t even notice the fucking newspaper I left for you in that rapist Randal’s house. Unacceptable.’ Chambers shook his head. The patronising gesture riled her more than the bastard’s accusation. ‘We need friction in our lives to keep us sharp. That’s why I chose Samantha.’

  She tasted blood as teeth punctured gums. Summoning every ounce of will power she could muster, she asked, ‘And Angela Hardy?’

  Chambers cricked his neck, nodded. ‘I needed your best game to bring out mine. Because like it or not, in our worlds we’re only as good as our adversaries. And in my world you have to respect your adversary. That’s why I’m here. To say goodbye.’ Chambers eased up from the armchair to his feet. Jessop stepped back and gripped the gun with both hands. Maybe because she feared him, but in the flesh Chambers appeared taller than 5’ 11”.

  ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’

  Chambers shrugged again. ‘Out of your life.’

  ‘Do you really think I’m going to let you walk out of here?’

  ‘If you value Detective Mason’s life you will.’

  She beheld this slim, young man with his scarred face and ravaged soul. He was the picture of calm, completely unnerved by the gun she pointed at him and the threats she made. She thought about what he’d said earlier about this not being the first time he’d looked down the barrel of a gun, and suddenly she felt foolish and pathetic. How must she look compared to a Taliban rebel aiming an AK47 at him with a hell of a lot more conviction in his stare than she could muster? The gun she held was not any less deadly, yet the person holding it had never taken a life bef
ore. And Chambers knew that just by looking in her frightened eyes.

  He took a step toward her and the front door. ‘Your choice.’

  ‘So Scott is number ten on your list?’

  ‘Pull the trigger and find out.’ Chambers motioned to the mobile on the sofa and the live feed of Mason still gagged and tied to the bed. ‘But believe me, you won’t find him.’

  Against all her instincts, and everything she had ever learned or believed in or promised herself and her girls, she found herself stepping back out of Chambers’ way. The gun did not lower, though. All the while it was pointed at his head, with the trigger tight against her finger. Just one false move on Chambers’ part and he and Mason would be dead, and she would have kept her promise to Vicky and fulfilled her obligation to all the others who had been forced to watch their loved ones die. Yet she could not help but think of Mason and the chance Chambers was offering to save his life. She knew it could all be bullshit, but what if it wasn’t? Could she really live with herself knowing she could have saved the man who had risked his career getting her the gun she now held? The same gun that could inadvertently end his life.

  ‘How do I know you’ll release him?’ Her throat was tight and her eyes stung hot with tears of frustration. She blinked them away, but it was all the time Chambers needed to snatch the gun from her hands and turn it on her.

  ‘I’m not going to release him.’ Chambers turned the gun on her and aimed it with steady accuracy between her sodden eyes. ‘For someone who works off her instincts, you should really learn to trust them more.’

  Chapter One-hundred and three

  Her breath caught and her knees liquefied with fear. She slumped to the floor and awaited her fate.

  Her first thought: please make it quick, for the girls’ sake.

  Her second thought: please keep your word and spare the girls.

  Her third thought: why has it gone so quiet? And why was her flesh pimpled?

  She dared to open her eyes. Instead of staring down the black barrel of the gun, she stared out through the open front door through which Chambers had made his exit.

  Confusion enveloped her. But not for long.

  Heart thumping hard and fast, she pushed herself off the floor, ran to the door and slammed it shut, bolting the deadlock. The next thing she was aware of was being hugged by two crying girls. It was the most welcome feeling ever, and she held them both as tight as she could until all three of them were cried dry.

  ‘Is it really over?’ Chloe pleaded. ‘Is he really going to leave us alone?’

  Jessop wiped her eyes, caught her breath. ‘I’m not sure, sweetie, which is why I want you both to pack some clothes as quick as you can, okay?’

  ‘What about Detective Mason?’ Vicky asked. ‘Is he going to be alright?’

  Jessop let go of the girls and snatched the phone from the sofa. On the screen, Mason was still unconscious and bound to the bed. ‘I hope so. Now go…pack.’ Through misty eyes, she watched the girls race upstairs. She fumbled for her own phone and dialled Brooke’s number.

  Brooke answered on the third ring. Jessop gave her a brief summary of events.

  ‘Any clue where Scott might be?’ Brooke asked. ‘Anything about the room he’s in, the bed…’

  ‘No. The camera’s up too close to tell. Get Davies tracing the signal and a patrol car round to Scott’s address.’ Her hands shook around the phone. She felt nauseous and weak. But more so, foolish and useless.‘Christ, how could I have been so naïve?’

  ‘It’s done, boss, and Scott can’t afford for us to dwell on it, so − ’

  ‘Muuuuum!’

  The scream came from above.

  She dropped the phone as Chambers’ words screamed in her head: ‘I’m not going to release him.’

  If he had lied about that, what else had he lied about?

  No! Not my girls!

  ‘Muuuum….quick!’

  Had she actually seen Chambers leave by the front door? No. She’d been too busy cowering on the floor after being outwitted and outmaneuvered.

  And now she was going to pay the price for her negligence.

  She flew up the stairs and onto the landing. Saw Vicky stood outside her bedroom, wide eyed and with her hands to her mouth. The door was open, and she could see Chloe standing just inside. Neither of them appeared to be hurt.

  She barged past her daughter into the room, tripped on her discarded duvet strewn across the floor. Looked to the bed and felt her heart miss a beat.

  On the bed, still tied and gagged but now conscious, lay Scott Mason.

  Her head spun, trying to comprehend what she was seeing and what it all meant. Once again, Chambers’ words rang loud in her ears: ‘I’m not going to release him.’

  No, he wasn’t.

  She was.

  Chapter One-hundred and four

  An hour later, fully dressed in a grey tracksuit, white trainers, and looking as groggy as he did angry, Mason swallowed thirstily from a bottle of water. He’d explained that he was out running in the park near his apartment. The next thing he knew he was on the grass and his head was killing him. ‘The bastard ambushed me and drugged me. I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.’

  Perched on the sofa next to Jessop, Brooke said, ‘So we’ve established Scott was not meant to be his tenth victim.’ She looked to Jessop. ‘Did he say why he’d targeted you?’

  Jessop sipped some steaming hot coffee, thought about what Chambers had said to her about being locked in that hotel room for the last thirty-six years and needing someone to make her find some meaning to her suffering and break the shell of her understanding. ‘One of us, though, has learned from our past. The other has not. We all need a little guidance, Detective. No shame in it. And I promise you, soon you’ll thank me, just as all the others will.’ Her team did not need to know this. Her past was her past, and none of their business.

  ‘He told me he needed my best game to bring out his,’ she muttered. ‘Something about people like us only being as good as our adversaries.’

  Beneath a frown heavier than usual, Mason gave her a knowing look. She ignored it.

  Brooke said, ‘That ties in with the rest of his power plays and mind games, targeting Sam and Angela to get your attention.’

  It did, Jessop thought, unable to look Brooke in the eye for fear of being caught in the little fib.

  Seated beside Mason on a stool brought in from the kitchen, Davies said, ‘So we’re still one victim short.’

  The room fell quiet until Brooke punctuated the silence with, ‘So what do we do?’

  All eyes turned on Jessop, and with them, the familiar weight of expectation. Each of her team had worked their arses off trying to catch this bastard, and now they were faced with the very real possibility of failing in that task. Eight innocent lives taken with no justice for their families and loved ones. Vicky was counting on her to get the monster who had butchered her mother. The media and the top brass wanted reassurance and results. She could provide neither. Neither could she provide any more information on Chambers’ whereabouts or plans. She had spent the last hour scribbling down everything she could recall about their meeting, and nothing in her notes evoked any inspiration.

  ‘No disrespect, people, but I’m not the one you should be asking.’ She nodded to Mason sitting quietly in the armchair Chloe had slept in last night. ‘This is Scott’s investigation now, and I’ve got a couple of badly shaken girls who need to get the hell away from here for a while.’

  Her face flushed from the burning stares. She was abandoning them in their hour of need, but the fact was, she was on suspension pending dismissal, and so had no authority or right to make any decisions regarding the investigation. ‘You’re welcome to work from here and to anything from the kitchen.’ She shrugged, stood up. ‘Afraid I’m all out of turkey, though. Sorry. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to check on my girls.’ She stood, walked to the hall. Glanced back and caught Davies’ attention. Motioned to him to follow
her.

  A minute later Davies joined her in her office. She closed the door and fished out her phone.

  Asked, ‘You got Chamber’s phone?’

  Sealed in a clear evidence bag, Davies pulled the mobile from his pocket. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘What’s that phone’s number?’

  Through the bag, Davies pressed a couple of buttons, read out a number.

  Her stomach twisted as she compared the number to the sender of the cryptic text message she’d received about her scheduled visit to meet her family’s killer.

  The numbers did not match.

  ‘I need a favour,’ she whispered. ‘Off the books.’

  Davies nodded. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Can you trace a phone from a number?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  She read out the number. Davies jotted it down on a scrap of paper and pocketed it.

  ‘This is between me and you, Tom. Understood?’

  Davies shot her a wink. ‘Loud and clear, boss.’

  She wasn’t his boss, but now was not the time to get into that again. ‘Call me when you get something.’

  She followed Davies out of the office and padded upstairs to where she could hear Chloe and Vicky rummaging through draws. Neither she or Chloe or Vicky wanted to spend a minute longer than necessary in the house Chambers had breached so easily. And so they were going to get in the car, drive to the airport, and jump on the first plane out of here.

  ‘Hey,’ came a voice from the stairs behind her.

  Jessop turned, saw Mason hovering at the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ve told you everything,’

  ‘Really? No disrespect, but putting your name on his list strikes me as more than an attention grabbing exercise.’

  Jessop felt warmth spread through her cheeks. ‘I only know what he told me. I really can’t help anymore.’ She met Mason’s hazy eyes, blinked first. ‘I’m sorry he took the gun, but my guess is we’ll never see it again. Probably for the best, right?’