The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2)

by T. M. E. Walsh

  Hatcher laughed.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘You won’t find her,’ Hatcher said, ‘not without me.’

  Sally started to speak but Hatcher gently placed his hand on her wrist, silencing her. ‘If I’m going to help you, Inspector,’ he said, quietly this time, ‘I want some kind of guarantee of a reduced sentence.’

  You’re not as stupid as you like to make out, are you? Stefan thought.

  ‘William, I would like to advise–’

  Hatcher squeezed Sally’s wrist. ‘I’d advise you to keep quiet.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee anything, William, but it can’t harm you to start giving me some answers.’

  Hatcher was quiet. His eyes searched Stefan’s and a smile spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs casually.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘Time’s running out for them both. The secret of their survival is simple really.’ He leaned forward again, raised a finger to his eyes. ‘They must control their fear and not let their eyes betray them. They must learn for he must teach.’

  ‘What are you, a poet now?’ Harper said.

  Hatcher looked to the floor, then back at Stefan. ‘This isn’t my puzzle to solve, it’s yours… but I’ll give you a head start.’

  PART FIVE

  She was there, in that place she’d come to dread. That same path, criss-crossed with melting snow and forest green. The air around her was cold, she could see her breath. She wasn’t running this time, but felt she should be, as she sensed he was close.

  ‘Don’t let your eyes betray you.’

  She heard it loud and clear. Her father’s voice.

  Her legs felt so heavy, she couldn’t run, despite willing herself to.

  ‘Don’t let your eyes betray you.’ Not her father’s voice this time – it was His, the one whose death she could never bring herself to openly mourn.

  She came out to the clearing, the same as before, and stopped. Turned around. This time she saw the lake ahead, frozen solid. The way back was blocked. The voice was closer, and she charged forward, her legs suddenly alive again, fear driving her on.

  She slipped in the snow, her body crashing forward, skidding onto the ice that entombed the water below.

  I have nowhere else left to run.

  It is do or die.

  Survival of the fittest.

  Run, Claire, run.

  Across the ice and never stop… Never look back.

  CHAPTER 79

  The spider crawled across Claire’s face, pausing on her cheek, just as her eyes snapped open. It took her a while to see clearly. She felt dizzy, tired. She felt the crawling sensation on her skin. She raised her hand to swat the spider, but the shackles around her wrist pulled taut around the pipe.

  It took a few moments for her to realise she’d been lying awkwardly up against the wall, and her back and neck ached. She looked at the shackles around each wrist, then the pipe, and felt her stomach roll.

  She remembered the marks on the bodies of the dead women, on their wrists, on their ankles. Her own feet were free from restraint, and she managed to pull herself upright. The stinging pain came from under her ribs when she sat forward, making her gasp. She grabbed around her torso. She saw the dark stain on her dressing gown.

  She held her breath as she peeled it back, frightened of what she might find. Her eyes tried hard to focus. She blinked her eyes tight, opened them again. She focused on the white gauze, a dressing, stuck crudely to her skin with what looked like masking tape.

  She picked at it, pulling a section of it back, and saw a small cut, flaky with dried blood. It was only a flesh wound. She pushed the tape back down, then her eyes searched her surroundings.

  She saw little. Only a single dirty bulb hung from the ceiling offering light. She saw a table with a jug of water, a plastic cup, and a lamp that was switched off.

  Her eyes wandered up the steps that led towards a door, and she knew she was in a basement. Her body shivered when she caught sight of stains, almost black in colour, spattered on the concrete floor beside her. She was no stranger to those stains.

  Blood.

  She pulled herself to her feet, tugging hard on the pipe. The noise of metal against metal clattered, the sound seeming to engulf the space around her.

  Upstairs, Lucas knew she was awake. A grin spread across his lips as he went to the hall. He stopped in front of the door to the basement and reached out his hands, resting his palms on the wooden barrier between them.

  *

  Claire pulled harder against the shackles, but she knew it was no use. She sank back down in a heap on the cold floor, sucking in large gulps of stale air. It was heavy, with a fetid smell that stung her nostrils. She could smell the sour tang of urine and vomit, and tried hard not to gag.

  She closed her eyes when the pain of a tension headache began to emerge across her forehead.

  Then she heard the bolt slide across the door at the top of the stairs.

  She blinked hard when the door opened. She saw feet begin to descend the staircase.

  She saw his face.

  It was pale. Cold. His features were exaggerated by the shadows cast around the room.

  ‘You’re awake at last. You’ve been out a long time… I began to worry.’ He watched her eyes, boring into his, and he glared back, drawing closer to her. He pointed to her middle. ‘I dressed your wound. I’m sorry about that, it was a heat of the moment thing.’ Her eyes remained unflinching when he crouched in front of her, his face drawing closer to hers. ‘You can’t say I didn’t warn you beforehand.’

  He pushed forward onto his knees.

  ‘It’s breakfast time, you must be hungry.’ He saw her recoil as he crawled closer. He looked away from her, avoiding her eyes. ‘You mustn’t be scared of me, Claire.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  He flinched, eyes growing dark. ‘Watch your mouth.’

  ‘My mother will have reported me missing by now. They’ll be looking for me.’

  ‘But they won’t find you.’

  Claire started laughing. ‘After all the DNA and evidence you left in my house? You may as well have left a calling card.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Definitely. They’ll find me – and soon.’

  ‘Well, it’s just as well you won’t be staying here much longer, isn’t it?’

  Her face dropped.

  Lucas smiled, pushed himself up from the floor.

  She watched him. He was still wearing the clothes he had on when he abducted her and she saw the cut in the fabric at his thigh where she’d stabbed him.

  A chink in his armour.

  ‘You must be hungry.’

  He started for the stairs, then glanced at her sideways, looked her all over. The look made her feel sick. ‘You’ll want a change of clothes, no doubt.’ He climbed the stairs, not expecting an answer. She waited until he locked the door after him before getting to her feet, and tried the shackle chain once more. She tugged hard around the pipe.

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  The voice came from the shadows.

  Claire’s head whipped around and stared into the far corner of the basement. She didn’t know if her mind was playing tricks on her or if she had really heard a voice in the darkness. The effects of the chloroform had made her feel giddy and her head felt as thick as cotton wool.

  ‘Hello?’ she spoke to the darkness.

  There was no reply.

  She felt tension building in her chest, realised she was holding her breath, exhaled, and used what strength she had left in her arms to pull at the pipe again. She guessed Lucas could hear her from upstairs but she didn’t care.

  She pulled on it a second time, the strain visible in her face. The pipe groaned, but held fast against the wall.

  ‘The pipe’s never gonna give.’

  This time, Claire walked as far as the shackles would allow her. The chain s
napped taut after a few paces.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  Silence.

  ‘Fallon?’

  In the dark corner she saw a blanket tossed aside, and a figure emerge, shuffling forward on its behind across the floor, until light from the bulb overhead revealed dirty-looking blonde hair, tousled with dried sweat.

  A pair of chocolate-coloured eyes stared back into hers. Claire saw a nose stud and lip piercing catch the light from above and she knew then, beyond doubt.

  ‘Fallon, you’re alive.’

  The girl lowered her eyes, then took in every inch of Claire’s appearance. She frowned at the woman standing there in her underwear, only partially covered by the thin dressing gown.

  ‘Who’re you supposed to be?’

  ‘I’m a police officer.’

  ‘You’re the cavalry?’ she sneered, eyeing Claire up and down. She pushed herself back towards the corner she’d emerged from. ‘I’d say we’re both fucked.’ She flipped the blanket over her legs with her cuffed hands.

  Claire heard the sound of metal on metal. Fallon was chained to another pipe that had a longer chain on the shackles.

  ‘We’ve been doing all we can to find you. Your father and friends… Even your mother has come back to help us with our enquiries.’

  Fallon sniggered. ‘My mother?’ She turned to look at Claire again. ‘She hasn’t been my mother for a long time. You haven’t done your research very well.’

  They heard the basement door unlock.

  Claire ventured back towards the wall as Lucas appeared with a tray of food. There was only one plate and Claire stared at him.

  ‘Where’s Fallon’s?’

  His eyes shot up to the corner where Fallon was lurking in the shadows. His face relaxed. ‘You’ve met.’ He set the tray down on the floor near Claire. ‘She’ll eat when she’s told to eat.’

  He eyed her from head to toe, then went to the pipe and tested its sturdiness, followed by the chain of her shackles. He took one last look towards Fallon, then left them alone.

  Claire was starving. She got down on the floor and uncovered the plate on the tray. There was some toast and a muffin. She picked up a slice and eyed it with suspicion.

  ‘I doubt he poisoned it,’ Fallon said. ‘He needs you alive.’ Claire looked towards her, then back at the food. It was all the encouragement she needed. She shovelled it into her mouth. She didn’t know when she would have the chance to eat again, and she needed her strength.

  She looked at Fallon, who was turned away from her, staring at the floor. ‘You want some? When did you last eat something?’

  ‘I dunno… maybe yesterday morning. It’s hard to keep track of time down here.’

  Claire held the plate out towards her. ‘Here.’ Fallon hesitated, then shuffled out from her corner. She picked up a slice of toast, and Claire noticed how dirty her fingernails were. She let Fallon eat a little before she spoke again. ‘I’m DCI Claire Winters.’

  Fallon stopped chewing, gave her the once over, then shrugged. ‘Whatever DCI means?’

  ‘I’m the detective in charge of the investigation into those recent murders – the three women?’

  ‘And in charge of getting me back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you fucked up big time. Why the hell does he want you?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I need your help.’

  Fallon held up her cuffed wrists. ‘I’m no use to you.’

  ‘You can give me an idea of what he wants, why he’s doing this.’

  Fallon shrugged again and took another piece of toast. They sat in silence, and after they’d spilt the muffin and demolished that, Claire wanted some answers.

  ‘What did he mean when he said you would eat when you were told to?’

  Fallon glanced up at her, licking her fingers. ‘He thinks he can break me. He keeps trying but he can’t. I won’t let him.’

  ‘Withholding food is your punishment?’

  Fallon shrugged. ‘I guess.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘He’ll have to feed me sooner or later otherwise his plan won’t work.’

  Claire narrowed her eyes. ‘What does he want with you?’

  ‘He wants to change me. He thinks I need him… I can’t believe I used to think he was OK.’ Claire looked confused. She knew Fallon and Richard had been seeing Mitchell Curran, and the other victims had seen his wife, Stephanie, but none of them had mentioned Lucas.

  ‘You know him?’

  Fallon nodded. ‘Yeah, he used to talk to me most weeks.’ She saw the confused look on Claire’s face. ‘What?’

  ‘We didn’t think he made contact before he took the other women, except maybe Felicity. I’m wondering why you’re different.’

  Another shrug.

  The door to the basement was unlocked.

  Fallon crawled back to the corner and Claire pushed herself up on her feet. When Lucas descended the stairs she saw he was carrying a pile of clothes. He stopped in front of her, glanced towards Fallon, then at the empty plate on the tray. Fallon saw him and looked away, wiping her mouth free of any crumbs.

  He looked at Claire and threw the clothes at her.

  ‘You fed her, didn’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’

  He stormed towards Fallon. The shackles at Claire’s wrists strained as she tried to get closer. Lucas grabbed Fallon’s shoulder and she screamed as he pulled her around to face him.

  He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. She shrieked, and he slapped her again.

  ‘This is your fault.’ He pointed his finger back at Claire. He grabbed a handful of Fallon’s hair, pulling her face towards his. She spat at him, and this time he punched her, cutting her lip.

  ‘Punish me then!’ He looked back at Claire, his eyes wild with rage.

  ‘You?’

  ‘If it’s my fault, punish me.’

  He took a step closer to the light. Claire stood her ground. ‘Don’t sacrifice yourself for that,’ he said, pointing back at Fallon. ‘You’re worth so much more than this spoilt brat.’

  ‘Go fuck yourself.’

  As the words escaped Fallon’s lips, Claire sank inwardly. Lucas’s eyes seemed set ablaze. He swung around and grabbed Fallon, wrenching her forward, screaming in her face.

  ‘Make yourself sick, right now!’

  Claire was screaming at him to leave her alone, as he forced Fallon’s mouth open, sticking his fingers down her throat. Her gag reflex kicked in, her upper body convulsed, and she heaved forward and vomited onto the floor. She spluttered, coughed for air, and Lucas released her head.

  He looked back at Claire. ‘Get dressed.’

  He pulled out a key and unlocked her shackles. He picked up the clothes from the floor, thrusting them into her arms. He glanced back at Fallon, who was now curled up into a ball, crying.

  ‘Don’t try anything stupid. There’s no way out of this basement other than through that door and I’ll be right behind it.’

  CHAPTER 80

  A bruise had already begun to appear across her cheek where Lucas had punched her, and she winced when she touched the side of her face. Claire helped Fallon sit forward.

  ‘I’m OK,’ she said, pushing Claire away. ‘It’s just sick.’

  ‘I’m more concerned about the side of your face.’

  Fallon shook her head. ‘He could’ve done worse. He tries to control his anger but sometimes he can’t. It gets the better of him.’

  Claire looked around for something that might help them escape.

  There was nothing.

  She looked at the clothes he’d given her. A thin short-sleeved top and jogging bottoms, both navy and in her size. She felt loath to put them on, but she was cold, so forced herself out of necessity.

  *

  Once she was dressed, Claire realised the ache in her groin she’d felt for the last half hour was because she desperately needed the toilet. In all the chaos, she hadn’t given it a second t
hought but now she felt the strain, fighting the urge to release the muscles stopping her bladder from emptying.

  She looked around the basement again. Her eyes landed on Fallon, who was staring at the floor. She felt the weight of Claire’s stare. Her eyes shot up to meet hers. ‘What?’

  ‘I really need to pee.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  Claire shook her head. ‘You don’t understand what I’m getting at. How’d you go to the toilet?’

  Fallon grimaced. ‘Same way you do.’

  ‘I meant, where have you been going? Does he let you use the bathroom?’

  ‘No, he’s been bringing me a bucket. He doesn’t even leave it down here for me. He makes me wait until he’s ready. Bastard makes me hold it. I think he wants me to piss and shit myself to make me realise I need him.’

  Claire pulled a face. ‘Are you always this pleasant?’

  ‘I’m the least of your problems.’

  ‘What do you think would happen if I went and knocked on the door? I’m not shackled.’

  ‘I wouldn’t. He might lose his temper… and you know what he can do.’

  Claire weighed up the possibilities. She had to do something. She climbed up the staircase to the basement door and hammered on it.

  ‘You’ll make him angry.’

  Claire ignored her and kept on hammering with her clenched fist, until she heard him on the other side of the door.

  CHAPTER 81

  Stefan sprinted back to the incident room, closely followed by Harper. Stefan had his mobile to his ear, trying to get hold of Elias.

  ‘How’d you know it was Lucas?’ Harper said, matching Stefan’s stride.

  ‘I didn’t, not for sure.’

  ‘You took a gamble. You got that solicitor pissed.’

  ‘Time’s running out for Claire, we’ve not got time to do everything by the book. We have to find her.’

  Elias answered at his end. ‘I’m on my way back to the station now.’

  ‘Hatcher’s confessed it is Lucas Hall.’

  ‘Then we’ve got him.’

  Stefan shook his head, bounded up a flight of stairs, and entered the corridor that led to the incident room. ‘Not quite. Hatcher wouldn’t give up Lucas’s location.’