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

by T. M. E. Walsh

  Fallon had got a shard of glass from the broken window and after a few minutes of clumsy sawing, they’d cut through the cord at their wrists.

  Fallon watched Claire shiver uncontrollably. ‘There’s an old blanket in there,’ she said, nodding her head towards the other room.

  ‘I think I’m getting too cold to care any more.’

  Fallon went into the other room, retrieving the mould-covered blanket. ‘Here,’ she said, wrapping it around Claire’s arms before she could protest.

  Claire managed a smile.

  Then they heard something.

  The sound of tyres crunching on the frozen ground, coming up the trail towards the shack, was unmistakable.

  The look on Fallon’s face betrayed many emotions, but fear was by far the most obvious. She looked eaten away by it. She froze to the spot, waiting for the vehicle to appear.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Her breath was now coming in short sharp bursts.

  Control your fear.

  Claire heard her own voice in her head and tried to put it into practice. She opened the door a crack, stared outside, and gripped Fallon’s wrist hard and waited. The noise grew louder, then the front of the hire van pushed through the snow ahead.

  Claire pulled Fallon down to the floor out of view as she kicked the door shut, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. ‘We’ve got to make a run for it.’

  ‘He’ll see us.’

  ‘We’ll go back through the other room, and you go out the window. You’ll be obscured from his view, once he’s out of the van.’ She pulled Fallon up from the floor and through the door opposite. ‘Wait here for me.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  Claire ignored her, kept herself low, and pulled the door open again just enough to see Lucas.

  He’d just switched off the engine and she saw something in his hands.

  Her eyes widened.

  Lucas swung the shotgun over his lap and Claire knew he was loading it. Her stomach somersaulted. She bolted towards Fallon and shoved her forward towards the window with some force.

  ‘He’s got a fucking shotgun, now move!’

  Fallon’s face lost all colour.

  She ran to the window and grasped the ledge, ignoring the broken glass sitting like teeth still wedged in the frame, cutting her palms.

  ‘Not yet,’ Claire said, gripping her arms as Fallon went to jump. Claire went back to the front door. Saw Lucas climb out the van.

  He turned towards the shack.

  She sprinted back inside the room and helped Fallon up and out of the window. She guessed they had ten, maybe fifteen seconds before Lucas was in the shack… God knows how long before he knew something was up. She guessed he’d check on them first.

  ‘Run,’ she whispered to Fallon, who had ducked down low in the snow below.

  ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘I’ll be all right, just run… and don’t look back, no matter what you hear.’

  *

  Lucas propped the shotgun he’d taken from William’s farm up against the wheel of the van, then fished around in the glove compartment and pulled out the bag of extra cartridges. He swung the handles of the cloth bag containing the cartridges onto his belt and buckled it up again.

  Then he checked his knife.

  It was still there, nice and secure.

  He picked up the shotgun and swung it across the back of his shoulders, supporting it with one arm.

  Claire saw him approaching and just made it into the second room with the bed, threw the blanket on the mattress, and tucked herself behind the door. It wasn’t until Lucas had stepped inside that she realised the door to the room she was in had been shut before.

  She prayed he wouldn’t notice.

  She watched him, through the gap in the door, put the shotgun and the keys to the van on the table by the newspapers.

  He had his back to her.

  Fear kept her firmly rooted to the spot.

  She saw the top page of one of the newspapers on the table begin to flutter. In the other room, the wind was circling through the broken window and under the door to where he stood.

  He turned, stared at the old paper.

  He looked away… then back again.

  He saw the splinters of wood on the floor.

  His eyes wandered to the broken lock.

  He dived for the handle, pulled the door open wide, and Claire seized her chance. She threw herself around the door where she hid, grabbed the keys to the van, and charged through the entrance and never looked back.

  CHAPTER 93

  The door to the van was inches away when she heard the first shot. A spray of snow exploded just to the left of her, pellets narrowly missing her legs, but she didn’t risk a glance behind. The van was unlocked and she threw herself into the driver’s seat. She pushed the keys into the ignition.

  Then her eyes met his.

  He was running towards her, shotgun by his side. He had no intention of killing Claire by gunshot. That’d be too easy. He wanted to feel what it would be like to use his knife, tear through her skin, feel her warm blood on his hands. Wounding her by gunshot, however, was different.

  He’d seen Fallon’s tracks in the snow under the broken window, heading deep into the forest. He’d then seen Claire running to the van, and knew he could catch up with Fallon later. The forest was too dense, too isolated, for her to go very far in the cold, barefooted, without any warm clothes, food or water. If he didn’t kill her, the cold most certainly would. Claire, however, had to be stopped.

  And fast.

  He swung the butt of the shotgun at the windscreen. She screamed as it crashed into the glass, but it held fast. He swung it again, and this time cracks appeared. She slammed her foot on the accelerator. The van bunny-hopped forward, narrowly missing him. He backed off, anticipating her next move. The snow was thick and uneven and the van’s wheels spun around idly in the snow.

  She looked up into Lucas’s eyes and he grinned, swinging the gun barrel to face her head on.

  She ducked as he fired, shielding her eyes as a sea of glass rained down on top of her.

  Then all was still.

  She slowly looked up. He was reloading. Then he took aim and pulled the trigger again.

  She ducked down just as shot radiated out above her shoulder, striking the back rest. She let out a guttural roar, through gritted teeth, but it sounded like it came from elsewhere. An animal sound deep from within herself that she didn’t recognise.

  She peered over the steering wheel. He took aim again, and she slammed the accelerator pedal. The wheels spun, screeching, catching traction, then the van shot forward.

  Lucas fell to the ground. She knew he wasn’t hit. She would have felt the impact. She panicked, put the van in reverse and it shot backwards down the dirt track.

  Lucas scrambled to his feet and gave chase. The van was going too slowly, lumbering over the snow.

  She willed it to speed up.

  He raised the gun but this time he didn’t fire straight away.

  She slammed on the brake.

  She revved the van, stared into his eyes, and drove forward, aiming straight for him. She found her voice, screaming, as the van hurtled forwards. She shut her eyes and braced for impact.

  Lucas rolled to the side, off the track, but was soon on his feet again. The van careered back into the clearing towards the Warden Station and fishtailed around. It now faced the right way towards the track.

  Claire slammed the pedal again and the tyres managed some traction across the snow. Lucas raised the gun once more and fired at the front tyre on the driver’s side. It burst with a loud bang and Claire screamed, instinctively raising her arms to protect her head, as the van careered off the track, crashing into a tree.

  CHAPTER 94

  Fallon had managed to scramble forward, falling many times in the snow. She’d headed out right into the thick of the trees, where there was no path.

  A risk, but a necessary one.
>
  She heard the gunshots.

  They rang around in her head and stopped her dead in her tracks. She felt, for the first time since she was a small girl, the pull of loyalty. The detective; she’d helped her, cared for her almost. No one, not since her mother had left, had really given a damn about what happened to her. Not when it mattered.

  She was kneeling in the snow, a stitch in her side, the cold seeping into her jeans, debating whether or not to turn back and confront Lucas or just keep going and pray to God she made it.

  Just keep running, don’t look back. The voice of reason in her head was clear.

  She knew there was a very real possibility Claire was already dead. There had been several shots and she doubted Lucas was a gun-toting novice.

  Go back, you coward. Her conscience tore away at her. She pushed herself to her feet and ran.

  She ran until she was alongside a deep long-winding ditch, littered with dead leaves. The snow lay less thick here, the density of the tree branches overhead had seen to that. Instead, the ground here was more of a brown sludge. She slipped in it and crash-landed in the ditch.

  She felt a dull ache travel along her body when she pushed herself up on all fours. She got to her feet and looked around. The ditch was deep enough to obscure her from view if Lucas came after her from the way she’d come. Besides, the ditch would be hard to climb out of, the banks either side being steep and sodden with sludge.

  She trudged a few feet ahead before the smell hit her, stopping her in her tracks. Edging forward, hand clasped to her nose and mouth, she pushed ahead.

  The scent of something rotting hit her, and she forced what was left of her stomach contents back down her throat. She guessed there was a dead animal lying somewhere close, so she trod as carefully as she could, but ever mindful that Lucas could be close behind. It was then she saw the mound, partially covered with dead leaves.

  The smell grew stronger the closer she got, but there was no way around it, other than climbing over.

  She approached cautiously. She saw the familiar shape of a hand, and stopped.

  It was a body.

  She inched closer. She saw the body of a woman. What was left of her anyway. She was partially decomposed, and her skin was torn at the face. Her lips looked as if they’d been chewed.

  Animals, Fallon thought, fighting back more bile. The body of the woman, whoever she was, had very dark skin, was maybe in her forties, but Fallon couldn’t be sure due to the state of her.

  God knows how long she’d been lying here. Fallon knew cold weather would’ve slowed decomposition, but she suspected the body had been here long enough in the heavy October rain before the snow had come. The corpse made an exquisite source of food for the local wildlife.

  She saw a long gold chain around the neck, covered with filth. She stooped and pulled at it. It was a locket. She tilted it towards the light. There was an inscription on the front.

  To Mummy

  Love

  Isabelle & Jasmine

  Fallon felt sick as sadness gripped her.

  She popped the delicate catch and saw the picture inside. Two small girls, smiling happily for the camera. She felt like crying.

  She held her breath, bending closer to the woman’s body. She found the lobster-claw catch, released the chain and pushed the locket into her jacket pocket.

  She crossed herself, although she didn’t know why since she wasn’t in the slightest bit religious. She took a deep breath, held it again.

  She ran back the way she’d come.

  CHAPTER 95

  Her head pounded and her throat was dry with thirst.

  Claire had passed out when she’d hit her head on the steering wheel, and now the pain surged across her forehead.

  She looked up.

  The front of the van was rammed against the tree, but the engine was still running. Her lower face felt wet. She touched her nose, and winced in pain. There was blood on her fingers, which she wiped on her trousers.

  Then she remembered Lucas and the gun.

  She shot around in her seat, seeing nothing at first. She looked in the rear-view mirror and saw him circling the van, gun raised. She’d only blacked out momentarily, and had seconds to move. She opened the door and dropped from the seat.

  She hit the ground hard, rolled over, then was up on her feet. She managed only a few paces before she was shoved forward. She landed face first in the snow, the hard ice nearly knocking her out again.

  ‘Don’t fight it, Claire.’

  Lucas pointed the gun at her as she got to her feet.

  ‘Fallon will bring help,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘She won’t get far in this forest. There’s nobody around for miles.’ Claire didn’t speak. Her eyes began to close, pain and cold willing her body to shut down. He motioned with his head. ‘Move. We can’t have you blacking out just yet.’

  Claire’s eyes fluttered open. She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ He lowered the gun, pointing it at her stomach. ‘Do you know how painful a shot to the stomach is?’

  ‘You’re not going to shoot me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I only narrowly missed your head back in the van.’

  She stared at him, not knowing if Fallon was any closer to bringing help or not. For all she knew, the girl was lost, which could easily have happened. This forest all looked the same.

  He stared at her. Her feet were bare, red from the cold. Her trousers were heavy with damp, hanging low on her hips. Her top was stained with dirt and sweat. Blood trickled from her nose, over her chin, down her throat. One eye was bloodshot.

  Her hair was dirty and matted, hanging limply around her face and shoulders. Her face was flushed, making her blue eyes more prominent. She held his gaze, never faltering.

  She’ll never break. Such a shame I can’t leave her alive.

  He pointed the gun beyond her. ‘Down there.’

  She looked over her shoulder and saw the ground through the trees sloping down. She had no idea where it led. She knew it would be nowhere safe. He wanted her further out in the wilderness. No chance of anyone finding her. She looked back at him. He aimed the gun at her knees.

  ‘I said move… unless you can make do without your kneecaps?’

  She turned and slowly headed through the trees lining the track and down the slope. She saw the ditch running along the bottom, not knowing how far it stretched. She scrunched her fingers tightly into a fist.

  As they neared the ditch, he dug the barrel of the gun into her back, between her shoulder blades. She kept her eyes low. The ditch was steep and deep. She longed to fall into its belly, swallowed whole. Away from pain. Away from fear.

  She scanned the horizon and saw the sun beginning to set, dipping low behind the skyline in the distance. The glow of red and orange swirled above, like oil in the sky.

  It was stunning.

  ‘Blood on the snow,’ he broke into her thoughts, ‘is so beautiful, I’ve always thought… the red and the white.’

  Claire sucked in her breath. Held it until her lungs screamed.

  ‘I used to come to this forest when I was a kid. My grandmother, Lucy, used to bring me. She taught me how to shoot, can you believe that?’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She started me off shooting tin cans. When I started getting good, we tried animals.’

  Claire felt a sickness hit her stomach.

  ‘Sometimes we would spend hours waiting for anything, for some little animal to come along. We mostly used snares but I preferred a gun.’ He smiled. ‘The first time I shot a hare, I nearly died from the excitement. It was snowing then too… blood on the snow… so beautiful.’

  He watched her carefully. She showed little reaction to his words. This wasn’t good enough for him.

  He wanted her running scared, out of her mind. His arms grew heavy under the strain of the gun. He hadn’t actually killed a human with his own hands before and he longed to experience it, but at the same time, he didn’t want the game
with Claire to end.

  ‘How about I give you a sporting chance?’ he said, grinning. ‘We’ll hunt… you’re the hare.’

  She took a few paces back. Biting back tears. There was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of crying.

  ‘You’re mad.’

  He smiled. ‘I guess it ran in the family… You’ve got until the count of twenty.’

  His face turned serious.

  ‘Run, rabbit, run.’ He pointed beyond her, towards the dense block of trees ahead. ‘Make it count.’

  CHAPTER 96

  Fallon’s pace began to slow. Her body ached with the cold, and the stitch in her side was becoming unbearable. For a short time, she heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing.

  Then she heard the snap of twigs.

  Her head shot up.

  She braced herself, frozen to the spot, as something drew closer. She held her breath as a figure came into view, crashing around the corner ahead.

  It was Claire.

  She fell at Fallon’s feet.

  ‘He’s not far behind me. We’ve got to move.’ Claire’s voice was hoarse, as if each word was painful to speak.

  ‘There’s nowhere to run to. I couldn’t find a way out of the trees. I’ve been going around in circles.’ She pulled Claire up on her knees and gripped her arms to steady her.

  ‘Just help me up. He’s right behind–’

  CRACK… Thump.

  They heard the shot ring out, and pellets hit the ground just behind Fallon, spraying a mist of snow over her legs.

  She looked up and saw Lucas trying to negotiate the steep terrain which sloped down towards them. Her eyes flew back to Claire’s, just as she shoved her forward.

  Seconds later another shot was fired.

  Fallon cried out.

  Claire felt the weight of Fallon’s body pulling her down. She looked at the blood oozing through the girl’s fingers as they pressed tightly to her right calf.