The Girl Must Die: A Suspense Thriller With a Supernatural Twist

by Peter Repton

  ‘Exactly right on the button old buddy,’ Nick said as he heard his old friend Bob gasp with astonishment.

  ‘Here is the kicker now, though, the biggest of all of these lesser extinctions exactly seventy-two thousand years ago, was the Toba eruption.’

  Silence on the other end of the line

  ‘Hey, Bob … are you there Bob? ...’

  Bob replied and he sounded sad.

  ‘Thanks, Nick I had a feeling you were going to say that, thanks again I will get back to you.’ The emptiness in his voice was quite clear.

  ‘What now Bob? Who should we tell?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Who should we tell?’ Bob repeated Nick's question aloud to himself.

  ‘Who do you think would believe Nick? No one will believe us. I have no idea who to tell and even if I did what in God's good name could they do?’

  Then he just hung up without even saying goodbye. Nick felt the need for a long hot bath that Saturday morning. Just to soak, thinking about the immensity of what they had just discussed.

  30

  Special Branch readily agreed they would check Kempston's emails and pass any information on to the local force. They were keen to assist the local police to apprehend a suspected murderer. Kempston's internet service provider at last had now granted full access to his email records. The police were aware of all the recent communications Kempston had made from his home desktop and the laptop purchased while on the run.

  The police now knew Kempston’s new email address and his internet service provider as he had accessed his old email address before setting up a new one. Ford soon learned that Kempston connected via a cell network mast in Cleethorpes. Ford first thought of terminating the account. But that would not have stopped Kempston creating another one.

  Ford believed it better they were informed of what was going on. They accessed his credit card details. The police knew about the laptop he had bought in nearby Grimsby just three days before. Ford immediately sprang into action, barking his orders down the phone.

  ‘I want CCTV tapes of the shopping mall Freshney Place for the day he bought the laptop. I want his full description circulated to all police officers within a ten-mile radius with instructions to apprehend anyone who looks like him.’ He thought for a few moments then rasped.

  ‘On second thoughts I want them going door to door round all the bed and breakfasts and hotels in the vicinity. Kempston may have moved on already, but he has to stay somewhere.’

  Jack was animated now as at last; he had a lead. He met with Doctor Barry Smith on Sir Charles recommendation. Smith was a forensic psychiatrist who turned out to be a chain smoker. Smith could not be much help as he did not have a pattern to work on as there was one victim they knew of to date. Smith told him,

  ‘Jack, I think the excessive levels of brutality in this case mean the whole act of killing is the sole motive for this crime. The victim may or may not know the killer in advance. But I would wager the killer selected her because she ticked some of the right boxes in his mind. I say his as I know for certain this is a man, particularly because of the appalling after death mutilation involved.’

  ‘You are that certain this man will kill again?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Smith replied with confidence, lighting one cigarette off of another.

  ‘Once they start, these killings tend to increase in frequency, with an ever-greater escalation of violence. It will never stop unless the killer gets killed, taken into custody or kills himself. The latter is quite commonplace, choosing death rather than face up to their crimes. Letting their secret life come out in public afterwards is easier for them.’ Smith took a drag on his cigarette.

  ‘It is more likely to prevent us coppers having the joy of nicking the bastards!’ Ford said. He felt upset he could miss out on the arrest.

  Taking another long drag on his cigarette, Smith said.

  ‘After the act of killing this killer, over many days, will have experienced a state of ecstasy caused by the pent-up release of his sadistic expression of violence. He will tend to store up this force unseen, completely un-noticed by anyone. He will often be a reliable family man loyal to his wife and family, a good neighbour and a trusted employee. Then when seeking a new victim, he will experience a strong sense of happy anticipation throughout the hunt. Right after the kill and the release of their inbuilt tension it can be days, months or sometimes years before this drug-like effect wears off. Then the desire to dominate, torture and kill returns once more, just like an addiction.’ Smith lit another cigarette.

  ‘This case is more intriguing as the suspect began having severe headaches. These happened in conjunction with the visions just before the killing. We cannot know if Kempston has a brain tumour, or if he is using drugs. It is possible a third situation may be the cause. I know that there are certain classes of serial killers I would call visionaries. They either have hallucinations or claim to hear voices telling them what to do. Many have schizophrenia. Some feel compelled to perpetrate these acts for divine or other reasons. They can often embark on a wild killing spree after leading ordinary lives right up to the trigger point. I read of a case in California where a so-called visionary believed he was given a divine order to murder many people. He was instructed by God to avert a cataclysmic earthquake about to destroy the state. He also claimed he heard his victim’s voices saying they understood why he had to kill them. That they supported his cause and were grateful, because they were chosen to help. I mention this as Kempston seems to have a thing about volcanoes. They are just another form of natural disaster.’ Smith walked slowly over to Jack’s office window then he said,

  ‘It is rather odd that he contacted so many people by email, as these killers never usually want to communicate with anyone. He may believe he has a Messianic purpose to fulfil and considers he is acting as the instrument of a higher power.’ Barry then shrugged and added,

  ‘I am sorry Jack there are just too many possibilities.’

  ‘It seems that we have an infinite variety of nutter’s out there. Can you tell me how soon he may kill again? That is what I need to know. I may have a chance to save another innocent life,’ Jack said. Smith knew this smart, dedicated copper was sincere. He wished he could give him a definite answer.

  ‘I have no way of knowing for sure, but given the level of violence that poor young woman endured, I think it will be soon. He will want to relive it again. The high of the first kill always fades very fast. The lust to replicate the unique sensation of having utter control and domination will return. The second and later kills tend to show an escalation of violence and depravity.’

  ‘Why is that the case Barry,’ Jack queried.

  The forensic psychiatrist thought for a few seconds before answering,

  ‘I guess it is like any drug, the highs fade, and you need a bigger dose to get the same ecstatic euphoria the next time. So you move onto harder drugs. The killer will move onto much more cruel acts as he loses his mind.’

  Jack was under a lot more pressure now that the media had got hold of the story not knowing when they made the link that Kempston the murder suspect was also the same man who predicted the Hawaiian Tsunami and the Yellowstone earthquake. The reporters were in droves outside the police station all day. The situation was now building into a media frenzy. Every kind of speculation was in full sway in the press.

  The Sun said,

  “Is this the second coming of Christ?”

  The Daily Mirror not to be outdone asked the question,

  “Has HE come to prepare us for Armageddon?”

  The Independent declared,

  “HE has returned to save us!”

  The Daily Telegraph asked,

  “Is HE the new Messiah?”

  The Guardian going against the crowd read,

  “He is the Antichrist!”

  Despite the varying points of view. The consensus theme was that this was an amazing religious event. The masses loved prophecy. Now David Kempston was the b
iggest thing since Nostradamus. The media loved doom and gloom as it sold more papers to the masses. No one seemed to believe he was the murderer. Jack Ford watched a mobile hot dog stand setting up across from the police station, taking advantage of the crowd’s appearance.

  He believed Barry Smith was onto something when he said Kempston was deluded and feels he has a Messianic purpose. Jack watched the video Professor Staples sent to the fugitive Kempston the night before. He felt the enquiry was now gaining pace. They were able to access all emails to and from Kempston by tapping into the server at the source. But this only told him which of the local cellphone masts Kempston was near. It could not pinpoint his location if he turned his GPS off.

  31

  Nick West's phone rang as he was taking a shower, so he ignored it. Shortly after drying himself he checked his missed calls list. Not recognising the number, Nick decided to dress first before calling back. He’d forgotten about the call and boiled a kettle to make a refreshing coffee when it rang again.

  ‘Hi Mr West, Lisa Cutan here, you were going to give me a rain-check about Lunch?’ she said. Nick was not expecting her to call him at all as he had anticipated making the next move himself.

  ‘Lisa I believe I said we could meet for a coffee, not lunch, please tell me how you got my personal cell number?’ There was a note of concern perhaps even anger in his voice. Lisa giggled out loud; she loved the surprise factor.

  ‘Oh, it was not a big deal. I just phoned the college and said I was your younger sister just passing through Denver on a stopover today. It is Saturday morning. You have no classes today. I wanted to ask you to meet me before I flew out again, but if you don't want to cough up for lunch, I guess a coffee will have to do.’ Nick had never known a girl to be this forward, and he was not sure how to deal with her. He was always the chaser, always.

  ‘No-one should give you my personal number. Not without checking with me first, but I am sorry Lisa something big has just come up....’

  ‘Oh my, are you going to show it to me?’ she immediately interrupted. Nick smiled at her smutty wit then conceded,

  ‘Well, that is not exactly what I was talking about, but since you have my number now. I was just about to make myself a coffee, I guess we could meet and share a pot together.’

  ‘Great! How about Stella's coffee house its over on South Pearl Street, say in about twenty minutes? There is also a neat little place to eat nearby if you change your mind, after deciding I am worth it,’ she teased again. Lisa had him, and she knew it.

  ‘Fine, you win. See you in twenty minutes, goodbye Lisa.’ Nick checked his appearance in his hall mirror near his apartment door on the way out. He noticed how spooked he looked, knowing it was not the unexpected call from Lisa that was responsible for it. The earlier revelations he had shared with Staples were freaking him out.

  Nick locked the door, setting off for Stella's coffee house. Being in the proximity of Lisa and her magnificent tits would brighten him up he thought. It was a beautiful day to be out today, Nick thought striding fast towards his coffee date.

  Just a few white fluffy clouds graced the high plains sky. The spectacular Rocky Mountains rose with majesty in the distance. Lots of different birds were singing, celebrating the joys of May. He spotted house finches, house sparrows, northern flickers and goldfinches by the score. On a beautiful day like this Nick could not believe the scale of the impending disaster, brewing just a few hundred miles away higher up near the Rocky Mountains at Yellowstone.

  Nick arrived at Stella's, taking a table near the window with a view of the street outside. He ordered a pot of coffee for two from the attractive young waitress who served him. Nick knew she was also a student at the University of Denver, earning a few dollars waiting on tables between classes to make ends meet. The chicks here in Denver were something else he thought as he watched her wiggle over to the coffee machine. Lisa caught him checking out the waitress's arse as she stepped through the open door.

  ‘Hey, Professor are you sure that qualifies as studying human evolution?’ Lisa laughed as she startled him.

  ‘Lisa … Hi...you look great!’ Like a polished politician, he deliberately chose to ignore her question, greeting her instead with a hug. She did look beautiful; this girl worked on her looks a lot. The heavy mascara on her eyelashes accentuated the natural beauty of her honey-brown eyes. Her lips were a glossy scarlet full cupid’s bow. She possessed perfect white teeth. Lisa wore a smart, bright blue suit, comprising of a double-breasted jacket with gold buttons, with a matching skirt. Her outfit was completed with matching blue stiletto shoes and a blue clutch handbag. Nick took all this in as Lisa sat down across from him. He was surprised he’d not even noticed her tits at all because he was just so blown away by how sophisticated and very grown-up she appeared. Nick now felt scruffy in his black leather jacket, tee-shirt and jeans.

  ‘Hey, I have already ordered a pot of coffee. If you would prefer something else, just tell me,’ Nick said turning in his seat, looking right at her. The waitress with the nice arse was now a distant memory.

  ‘Coffee will be fine,’ Lisa answered as she admired the handsome man, fifteen years her senior. The waitress returned with the coffee. She looked at Lisa, immediately feeling uncomfortable in her presence. Women always feel this way when they come up against another woman they know is likely to be more attractive to the opposite sex than they are. She greeted Lisa with,

  ‘Hi,’ But the cold smile did not reach her eyes, shifting her focus to setting the coffee down. During this brief diversion, Lisa now appraised Nick. She noted he somehow looked a whole lot younger than his thirty-six years. His attitude was also more akin to much younger persons.

  Lisa knew he had learned through his profession to relate to the much younger students he taught. Nick's ability to be able to do this well enabled him to be an excellent communicator. Nick also came across as being sensitive enough to understand the feminine psyche. He was able to see things from a woman's point of view, without any trace of being effeminate. Nick's attitude in this particular regard was the primary attribute that appealed to her. She could have the pick of any of the guys of her age.

  Unfortunately for these would-be suitors of her generation, Lisa had determined she could live without their constant phoney machismo bullshit. Her fellow student's immaturity combined with a lack of appreciation for her intellectual capacity turned her off. These College Jocks were incapable of seeing her as being anything other than a sex object. Lisa needed much more in her life than this. She knew Nick West found her attractive, but who didn't? She saw in him something more.

  Lisa was adding some cream and sugar to the coffee the waitress poured, when Nick asked her,

  ‘Would you like a doughnut?’

  ‘No thanks, the cream and sugar will keep me going and I need to keep an eye on my figure,’ Lisa said. The waitress gave her a look that could have killed, smiled at Nick and left them alone. Nick said,

  ‘Lisa when I first met you three weeks ago in class. I’d no idea how things were gonna pan out,’ Nick remembered the first afternoon's lecture as Lisa put forward a theory that differed from his.

  ‘So how are things panning out Professor?’ She quipped.

  ‘Please try to call me Nick,’ he said.

  ‘What I am trying to say is ...’ he hesitated as he thought how best to phrase his answer. His bright blue eyes were sparkling, and his smile was for real as he continued,

  ‘...That I am pleased with the courage you display in class. Even if you do seem intent on challenging everything I try my best to teach you. I was a little worried at the start as I wasn't sure if you were just trying to undermine and embarrass me out of malice. Some young women can sure be mean. That's what I meant by how it would all eventually pan out. But, I determined that you were very interested in the subject. Your ideas were so well formed and articulated. It was a rare delight for me to meet someone so intelligent and also on the same wavelength. I thought it would be a good i
dea to meet to discuss your great alternative theories in more depth.’ Nick took a sip of his coffee. The professor’s words were music to her ears and even though she adored him for saying them. Lisa was unable to resist saying in a slow, quiet, disappointed tone.

  ‘Gee, I thought you just wanted to bone me!’ Nick was shocked, and caught off guard by her response. His eyes widened, and he choked on his drink. Then when he saw the mischief in her sparkling brown eyes, he spat out the coffee, bursting into uproarious laughter, slapping his thighs hard. Lisa joined in with him as his laughing was so infectious. The half-dozen other customers in Stella's all turned as one to look at them. Nick saw them looking and started to laugh some more.

  Suppressing his laughter he dared to take another sip of his coffee. He asked Lisa with the humour still in his voice,

  ‘Right now that we have established my devious motive for luring you here. Now we have gotten that outta the way, tell me a little more about Lisa Cutan from Denver, Colorado.’

  Over the next thirty minutes. Lisa told how she came from New Orleans and had a mixed race background. She talked of her Father, a proud black man who divorced her beautiful white Mother when she was just six years old. She told him the reason her parents split up was her mother's inability to remain faithful to him. She all too often took advantage of her good looks, enormous breasts and shapely body. She had many drunken affairs with men when she was drunk. Her Father was granted custody of his Daughter. He was able to convince the Judge, who just happened to attend the same Catholic Church, that her drunken slut of a mother was pure trash and should not have custody to raise her.

  Lisa did not see her mother again. But she found out she had moved back to New Orleans and was still addicted to hard drugs. Nick was a good listener. Lisa as a teen possessed stunning good looks, inherited from her mother. She had drawn an inordinate amount of attention from men of all ages. She often expressed her concerns about this to her loving Father. Lisa remembered a conversation they shared seven years ago when she was fourteen.