by Matt Shaw
It was him. I recognised that twang in his voice. I told myself to stay calm, to keep him talking. My guts gave another greasy roll as I forced myself to be neutral in my response.
“It’s you isn’t it, Mr. Benton?”
“Her skin. I wrapped it around myself. Used it as a make-shift sheath...”
“What do you mean?” I heard myself ask, struggling to cope with the unreality of it all.
“…. I pleasured myself.”
“You need to turn yourself in. If you don’t, you know what will happen.” I could barely concentrate. He was so calm, so matter of fact in the way he spoke. If not for the fact that I had already seen what he was capable of, I would have been inclined not to believe him.
“I can’t. I’m not finished yet. You want their deaths to be meaningless?”
“They already are. Whatever it is you are trying to achieve, it won’t work. I’ll find you, I’ll catch you. Nobody will ever remember you. Turn yourself in before it gets worse.”
I was shaking. Maybe Patterson could see it in my face, because he was no longer angry. Instead, he was watching me, his mouth hanging open. His expression made me wonder just how bad I must have looked sitting across the desk from him.
“No. They’re art. They’ll be immortal thanks to me!”
“They’re dead thanks to you. You have a chance to end this on your own terms. Trust me, you don’t want the alternative. If I come after you, you’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
“Worse for myself? I’m making it better for myself. I’ll be known across the world. My work will be known everywhere.”
“If it’s fame you want, then it won’t happen. I’ll personally make sure this is kept under wraps. We will deny everything. Nobody will ever know you did these things. Nobody will ever know you existed. Six months from now, you will be rotting in a prison cell just as anonymous as you are now.”
“You can’t.”
I could hear a ring of uncertainty in his voice, and although I was in no way following protocol, I couldn’t override the anger that raged through me. I didn’t intend to respond, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“You really must be stupid. Look around you. The world is a fucking cesspit of murder and crime. You think you might be the next Bundy or Dahmer, but they did what they did in a world that was unprepared. Let me tell you something, Damon. In this city alone, people die every day. Murders. Rapes. Assaults. Society is desensitised. Nobody will know you. Nobody will care. Nobody will ever know what it is you tried to do. You need to turn yourself in now, before it’s too late.”
“You should thank me. You’ll be famous too. You’ll be my best piece.”
A look of revulsion passed over Patterson’s face, and I knew why. I could feel my skin contorting, and although I was aware of it, I had no idea why. I was smiling.
“You don’t scare me. You think you are the first loon to get personal. I won’t rest. I won’t sleep until I find you and bring you in. That I can promise you. There is nowhere that you can hide where I won’t look.”
“Find me? When the time comes - you won’t have to find me. I’ll be the one presenting you with a glass of champagne...”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the line went dead in my ear. I set the phone back in its cradle and looked at Patterson.
“That was him wasn’t it, the killer?” he said.
“It was Benton,” I replied, locking eyes with him.
“You can’t be sure…”
“I recognised his voice, Sir. When I called him by name, he didn’t deny it. He said he intends to do more. Said he isn’t finished yet. We need to act on this.”
Patterson sat back in his seat, hands folded over his chest.
“Okay, I think we can get a warrant on this. Let me make some calls and see what I can do.”
I nodded, but inside I was elated.
“This guy has obviously got some personal vendetta against me. I want to get Lucy somewhere safe until we have him.”
“Good idea. Get yourself off home and fill her in. Is there somewhere she can go?”
I nodded. “She has a sister up north. I can get her to go up there for a few days.”
“Then go now, and take Wyatt with you. Safety in numbers and all.”
I nodded and stood, feeling guilty for my earlier outburst.
“Thanks boss. Sorry for losing it, it’s just…”
I trailed off as he waved a dismissive hand.
“Forget it. If I took it personally every time someone got pissed off, I wouldn’t have any friends. Go on, get home, and get that wife of yours safe. I should have your warrant ready to go by the time you get back.”
I walked to the door, wondering just how things had become such a mess. I grabbed Wyatt, and then we were off, heading out of the station and heading home. I didn’t want to lie to Lucy again, but it had to be done. I couldn’t let her know how serious things had become.
I only hoped she understood.
CHAPTER 17.
SUNDAY
I slammed the payphone down and stepped away from it, wrapping my scarf around the lower section of my face again to protect both my identity and my skin against the cold bitter wind. I could feel the rage surging through my body. The audacity of Detective Andrews to think he could hide my work away from the world. I felt so hot that I didn’t need my hood up, or the scarf but I knew I couldn’t take them off. Especially now my plans had changed. That son of a bitch. The belief that he has the power to stop me from sharing my creations for all to see? I’d picked up the phone, looking for help after what had happened last night, but now I’m ready to embrace that side of me. Clearly it’s a necessary evil that I must learn to live with if I am to go any further with who I want to be. Clearly the uncontrollable sexual urges go hand in hand with the darkness beneath the mask I wear. Should have known really. Can’t believe it took the hot headed words of a nobody to make me realise that.
I looked across the road from where I was still standing next to the payphone. The police station was a hive of activity. Had he chosen his words correctly, I could have been swayed into walking in with my hands raised to the ceiling. I had done enough to make sure my work would be noted - what with the whore, the school girl and that lady I’d picked up last night. That lady, the large girl I struggled to get into the back of my van. Can’t think about her now - no time. Need to concentrate on what I’m doing, especially seeing as I’m so close to Detective Inspector Andrews.
I didn’t need to continue taking people. What I’d done with the whale and the school girl would have been enough to get me known across the world. I would have been happy to leave it at that although my original plan was to go further. I just didn’t like the uncontrollable sexual urges. They worried me. They made me think I was sick. Wrong for performing such atrocities. But not now. Not now he’d challenged me. Not now he believes he was smarter than me. He isn’t, not in a million years. If it hadn’t been for the puzzle pieces I sent him, he’d still be standing at a crime scene, scratching his arse and wondering what to do. He’s nothing. Less than nothing. For now at least. In time he’ll become something but only because I’ll make it happen for him out of the goodness of my heart. I want to show him that, at the moment, he is less than a tiny speck in this overpopulated shit-hole of a world but, in time, he’ll realise what it’s like to be known across the globe. Even if it was too late for him to enjoy it.
I won’t give up. I’ll carry on with what I’m doing and my original plan for a gallery; a grand opening with me standing in the middle of it all, dishing out champagne for all to enjoy as they wandered around admiring my creations.
I carried on watching the front door of the station for a few more minutes before I turned back to the van I’d rented yesterday afternoon, from a budget company close to the centre of town. Good hardy transport to get around in and, more importantly, transport people back to the house in, as the whale could testify. Or at least could have testifi
ed had she still had a tongue.
I jumped into the front seat. Couldn’t see the police station’s door from this angle so I had to use the side mirror on the passenger side. And speaking of passengers; the bloodied brick caught my eye. With a swift gesture I swiped it off the seat and onto the floor. Couldn’t leave it on the seat, especially not whilst I was parked illegally. Any minute now someone could lean in and tell me to move. The last thing I need is for them to see the incriminating evidence.
My mind drifted back to the previous evening. I hadn’t meant to bring anyone home with me. I’d just been going for a late night drive, down some nearby country lanes, just to get used to the van I’d rented. It had been the first time I’d driven a van. Quite a bit bigger than my car. I wanted to make sure I looked a natural behind the wheel. Didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. About twenty minutes into my drive, just as I was considering going home again to start work on the school girl, I spotted the whale walking towards me out of the darkness. She flagged me down and I stopped. Not much choice with her standing in the middle of the road, flapping around as if struggling to make it back down the beach towards the water.
Broken down a few miles back, she told me, and no signal on her phone to call for help.
My lucky day.
I invited her to climb in with the false promise of help. I couldn’t help but remember feeling the suspension lower when she slipped into the passenger seat. This is a big girl. My mind had already realised she’d be perfect to go with what was left of the school girl. Just the right amount of flesh. She was thanking me the whole way back to a garage where I used yet another fake card to purchase a tow-rope, promising her a tow back to the garage, where they’d be able to take a look at her vehicle the following morning.
I could just get them to tow me, she had told me. Apparently I had done enough.
I told her it wasn’t a problem and that it would save her a towing fee. I drove her back to where her car was stranded and attached the tow-rope to the car. It was then that I’d hit her around the back of the head with the brick (which was just lying around at the garage next to a big old skip full of building waste). The noise she made as she landed. I’m sure it echoed.
I’d opened the back of the van already. The task of getting her into the back wasn’t quite as easy, due to the differences in our weights. In the end I rolled her to the rear of the van, so I didn’t have to lift her quite as far. I knew at the time that it would have made more sense to get a smaller woman - or even a man as it would really made no odds for what I had in mind. The reason I didn’t was because she was big enough to not need more people for the same piece. Her skin, with the skin I’d cut from the school girl, would be more than enough for the quilt.
And it was. By the time I’d finished flensing the skin off her fat corpse, I’d filled two large bin-liners. More than enough. And that was when it happened. I was about to throw the last piece of skin from the back of the van, where I’d cut the body up on some plastic sheeting - when an undeniable surge of lust hit me hard. Before I knew what I was doing my trousers were round my ankles and I was frantically masturbating using her ripped flesh as a sheath for my penis, the time to ejaculation being less than when I’d had the dead schoolgirl.
It wasn’t until hours later, after finishing what needed to be done, that I began to dwell upon my sexual antics. What should have been a happy occasion on the completion of another piece of work had turned to a bitter one where I feared what I had turned into. This sexual predator so unknown to me. So uncomfortable, yet simultaneously so appealing.
Even now, thinking back to what I’d done, I felt dangerous stirrings below. Something new, though. They were easier to shake off. My mind switched back to wondering where the Detective was and whether he’d be coming out of the office any time soon having decided, again thanks to our chat, that it was high time I got to know my new-found friend. A smile crept across my lips. I should phone him back and thank him. It appears he’s actually helped me. Just not in the way I thought he was going to.
A scream from outside the van. I looked out of the windscreen and saw a hooded figure running down the street, white trainers and blue sports pants with a white stripe down the leg, clutching a handbag under his arm. A lady was screaming for someone to help her but no one paid her any attention. At least, not in the way she was hoping. Instead they simply comforted her. I shook my head. This fucking world. I turned away and just in the nick of time too, as Detective Andrews stepped from the building with, I guess, one of his colleagues.
From across the road I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it looked to be serious. No doubt acting upon my phone call. Even though I hadn’t confirmed that I was Damon Benton they’re probably heading to my apartment anyway. I wondered, without the call, would they have bothered?
I watched the two officers go to separate cars. Andrews in a crappy looking Escort. Funny. I expected him to drive something a little fancier. A Ford Gran Torino perhaps? His colleague shouted something across to him from the driver’s side of what must have been his own car. Can’t make out what is said but get a hint of a Scottish tone. Figures. Stocky and ginger-haired. Couldn’t get more stereotypical.
I patiently waited as the two cars reversed out and headed into the busy traffic. When there was a suitable amount of distance between them and myself, but not enough with which to lose sight of them entirely, I jumped out of the van, with a parcel I’d snatched up from the foot well of the passenger side next to the bloodied brick, and ran towards the police station. I had planned on taking the parcel in with me when I was going to give myself up. I thought it would be more dramatic. Now I’m not surrendering... Well, seemed a shame to waste it - the off cuts of the whale - and I don’t really want to take it home with me again so he may as well have it anyway. Not really sure how I’d fit that piece in with the theme I had in mind.
As I approached the front door an officer stepped from the building and I thrust the package, a medium sized box of substantial weight, into his hand. “Detective Andrews!” I said. I about-turned and hurried across the road again ignoring whatever it was the police officer had said. Something about fucking delivery drivers being lazy. I couldn’t be sure and, truth be told, I didn’t care. By the time I got back to the van I noticed the officer had disappeared back into the building, no doubt grumbling about having to be a postman. If only he knew...
I slammed the van door and looked up the street. There’s substantial distance between myself and the detective now. More than I’d wished for. Not a problem. I’ll just have to push through the traffic until I’m a little closer. The perks of being in a van - not many drivers bother to argue with you.
* * *
I was surprised when we carried on past the turn off which would have taken the officers to my apartment. And I’d continued to be surprised as we’d driven on for another fifteen or so minutes until we’d come to what appeared to be a nice middle class area. Bigger houses than the ones near my apartment. Plain and unspectacular but, at the same time, better than I’d been used to, with the exception of my family home but, well, those walls were tainted with bad memories. And now blood, I’d sniggered.
About a quarter of the way down this street the detective’s car had turned into a driveway while leaving the other car to park in the closest available space. I’d driven past, simultaneously keeping my head down and my speed at a steady thirty. A check in my rear-view mirror and neither party had been watching me. Instead they were greeting a woman who’d come running out of the house and into the arms of the detective.
“Hello, Mrs Andrews.”
The look on her face; she clearly loved dear Detective Andrews. The heroic husband helping to save the world from crime. Why would she love him? From where I was sitting, from what I saw on the news, he wasn’t doing a very good job.
I shrugged. I really hoped she’d like what I had planned for her husband. Shame I couldn’t ask.
CHAPTER 18.
SUNDAY
As Wyatt and I entered the house I saw that knowing look on Lucy’s face, and realised that on the good husband scale, I’d failed pretty much across the board. To his credit, my usually foul-mouthed colleague had offered to make a cup of tea, to give me ample opportunity to explain to my long-suffering life-partner why she would have to move out of our home. I’d sat her down on the sofa where only a couple of days earlier we’d gone through almost the exact same motions, only then it hadn’t seemed quite so serious. It’s funny how things could change in such a short space of time.
“I need you to go stay with Danni and Chris for a little while,” I said, trying to remain calm but knowing that the look in my eye was betraying me.
“Why, what’s happened?”
“I don’t want you to worry, that’s the important thing, but something has changed about that situation I told you about.”
“About the case becoming personal?”
“Yes,” I nodded, hoping my act of supreme confidence was working, that she wouldn’t see the terror bubbling away under the surface. It was the first time in a while I was glad I was a good liar. “It seems somebody may have taken a personal interest in me, and just as a precaution, we have to move you out for a while.”
She started to cry, and I felt like the worthless bastard that I was, immediately followed with the thought that this was all down to that bastard Benton.
“I knew this would happen,” she said, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her cardigan. “I knew it. How long do I have to go away for?”
“I don’t know. As long as it takes until we can get him off the streets. We’re working on it right now, and the man’s our top priority.”
Wyatt brought the drinks and set them down, then sat quietly in the chair. All credit to him. As crude and foul-mouthed as he is, he’s a good guy.
“I can’t just up and leave. What will I say to Danni? How will I explain?”
“I spoke to her on the way over from the station. She understands. Remember, this is just a precaution. I don’t want you getting any more stressed than you already are.”