The Cat Hunter

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The Cat Hunter Page 18

by Krishna Ahir


  “Who?” Drake asked, leaning over the table and peering at the paperwork.

  “It says here that he was the one that found the first dump site.”

  “What, at the junior college?” Wilson walked up behind the elderly woman and looked down over her shoulder at the photo of a young man paper clipped to the corner of the documents. “Oh, I remember this kid. I think... Cliff interviewed him about what he saw.”

  “Did no-one do a follow up interview with him?” Caroline asked, bluntly.

  Pulling up another tab onto her screen, Sydney began to quickly trawl through the witness statements. “I’m sure we did. We chased up the IT Technician, and the Caretaker...” Her pupils bounced across the page. “The Teacher...”

  “Well?” The older woman raised her voice and called over at the female Detective.

  “It’s not here...” Sydney hummed. “That is strange. Maybe he just slipped through the cracks. I mean we have been pretty swept off our feet lately, what with the other dump on Friday, and the body on Monday.”

  “Yes, but it’s Thursday now,” Caroline snapped.

  “Why does it even matter?” Rawling asked, finishing his tangerine and pulling a face.

  “Because... Doesn’t this here seem a bit odd to you?” Her finger settled onto a line of handwritten text. “The place where the cats were dumped is a blind spot from everywhere in the junior college, except for this one window which is right on top of it. The window also only has the blinds closed when that specific Teacher uses the room... Which is for exactly one hour, once a week.”

  “Yeah, so what is your point?” Osborne muttered gruffly. “All that lets us know is that the Cat Hunter knows the college and the routine. Something we already knew.”

  “This Christopher boy,” Caroline continued. “He said in his statement that every Wednesday, he is always the one that opens the blinds.”

  Realizing what Caroline was getting at, Drake opened both of his eyes wide. “You’re thinking if the perp scoped out the site beforehand, maybe the boy noticed something!”

  “And he might not even know it."

  It was at that moment that Detective Inspector Harold entered the incident room. Mechanically closing the door behind him with a slow and practiced motion. His mahogany eyes were red and bloodshot from lack of sleep.

  "I hope you all have something for me," he said.

  Chapter 17

  Christopher was half dozing in front of his television set when the doorbell snapped his eyelids open. He felt a heavy weight on his chest and glanced down to find Crystal asleep just under the well beneath his Nash's apple. Swearing under his breath, he slowly moved his hands up before rapidly grabbing the cat and scooping it off of him; terrified of the feline's claws.

  Ambling to the door, he rubbed his eyes and peered through the dimming afternoon light as he opened the door. What he was met with was not what he expected.

  Stood in the alcove of Christopher's porch was a man in a grey suit. Broad and rugged, he had close-cropped hair and a friendly face, offset by a blunt nose. Either side of his face, his ears were slightly puffy; evidence of years playing rugby. At a guess, Christopher placed him in his mid to late thirties.

  "Christopher Douglas?" the man asked, probing for the name as he leant in towards the entrance to the house.

  "That's me," he confirmed, keeping his hand on the door handle beside him. "Who are you?"

  The man broke into a friendly and charismatic smile. It was the kind of self-assured grin that the captain of a sports team would wear when recruiting new players. "My name is Drake Gregory, I'm an officer with Rosefield—sorry, Grand Stone Bay— Police."

  Christopher's mind lurched with the memory of blood. Mutilated cat corpses momentarily dominated his vision; the sight of the single cloudy eye staring up at him.

  "Is this about the cats?" he asked, hesitantly.

  Drake noticed the wavering in Christopher's expression and switched his own to a more sympathetic face. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry for springing this on you all of a sudden, but there was something that I wanted to check with you. And I figured you wouldn't want to come all the way down to the station just to answer a few questions."

  "Yeah that makes sense," Christopher muttered. "Um, did you want to come in?"

  "Is that okay?" Drake asked, leaning in and peering around the entryway. "I don't want to interrupt anything."

  "Don't worry," the young man replied, beckoning him inside. "I wasn't in the middle of anything, and my family are away at the moment."

  Closing the door behind him, Drake cocked his head to the side. "On holiday?"

  "Yeah, my parents and my sisters."

  "I hope you haven't been left on your own too long," Drake joked with a smirk. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he followed the boy down the hallway and into the living room. "When are they back?"

  "Sunday or Monday, I can't remember which. It's either late at night or early in the morning." Christopher sat down on the sofa and directed the Officer to the armchair on the opposite side of the room. Leaning forwards, he rested his forearms on his knees. "So what was it you wanted to ask me? I'm more than happy to help in any way I can."

  "Thank you, I'm sure you will." Drake again smiled, however this time it seemed far more sincere. Christopher felt himself instinctively relax.

  Lifting his hands, Drake wrung his digits together and took a breath. His eyes set solid beneath his brow and behind his irises, Christopher could see him thinking through the questions; deciding which to ask first.

  "You said in your statement that you always open the blinds, after your lesson with Mr. Murdock. Is that right?"

  "Yeah, that's right. We're usually in a different room, but on Wednesdays we change. So because it's only one period, he always just shows video clips."

  "And the blinds are closed because...?"

  "His projector isn't too good, and the light from the window ruins the image. So he shuts the blinds."

  "Do many people know this?" Drake asked, again leaning in towards the boy.

  "Most people that take psychology, and quite a few teachers. But other than that, not really."

  The Officer placed his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers under his nose. His eyes stared off at nothing in particular, as he thought through the information Christopher had given him.

  "And you always help him after the lesson?" he asked, suddenly.

  "Yeah."

  "Always?" Drake repeated, emphasizing the word.

  "Yeah, every week. I have lunch next period, and Mr. Murdock is usually in a rush, so I do things to help him out. Open the blinds, pack up the projector. Those sort of things."

  "Okay, okay..." Drake once again gained the same faraway expression to his face as he thought.

  Watching the Officer think things through caused Christopher's own thoughts to jump back to something that had bothered him, the day that he had discovered the cat corpses: The note passed through his door. He wondered why it had been delivered on that day; who had delivered it; what the "present" it referred to was. A disquieting unease rippled through his stomach.

  Just as he was about to raise his concerns with the Officer, Drake spoke and interrupted his train of thought.

  "All of those times you closed the blinds, did you ever see anything strange?" he asked. "Anything at all. It could be something small, or something you felt didn't mean anything at the time. It might be you saw someone hanging around the area that shouldn't have been there, maybe even a feeling you remember having. Can you remember anything like that?"

  Distracted from his prior unease, Christopher lost himself in thought. He tried to think of anything at all that stood out about the brief instants in which he opened the blinds of the classroom, but consistently drew blanks.

  "No, no... Nothing that I can-"

  He stopped short as he suddenly latched onto a memory. Like a single loose thread jutting out from a neatly-sewn shirt. Once he noticed it, it remained prominent i
n his mind, and was impossible to ignore.

  "Wait... It might be nothing, but... There is one thing I remember."

  "That's good," Drake smiled, in response. "Anything— everything can be of help."

  "Well, one time I rolled up the blinds, the same as usual... And there was someone out there."

  "And that's strange?"

  "Yeah... Yeah. You can only really get to that spot if you go through the bushes that run alongside the fence. It's right at the edge of the college grounds too, and the field is on the opposite side. So kids don't go there."

  His interest piqued, Drake made no effort to hide the intrigue on his face. "Do you remember what this person looked like?"

  "It was a girl," Christopher replied. "I remember the long hair... Not much else though. They were mostly covered by the trees, and they ran away before I got a good look... Plus... This was like two months ago."

  "Can you remember the hair color at least?" Drake prompted.

  Christopher squinted his eyes, as he attempted to pull detail out of the memory. All he found, however, was the vague image of a shape darting through the bushes.

  Disappointment etched onto his face, Christopher apologized. "Sorry, I can't remember."

  "That's okay." Drake's mouth wound into a sympathetic expression. "Even what you've told me today is helpful. Anything, no matter how little it may seem, can always help."

  Christopher smiled back and averted his eyes, turning them towards the door. With a start, he flustered briefly and rose to his feet. "Sorry, sorry, I should have asked earlier. Did you want a cup of tea or something? Coffee?"

  The officer laughed and sat back in the armchair. He was caught out by the boy's politeness; not expecting a teenager to be that welcoming. "Uh, yes. Tea will be fine, thank you."

  "Actually," Christopher said, as he moved for the door. "I'm sorry if this is asking a bit much, but there's something I'm a bit worried about. I was wondering if you could take a look at it and tell me what you think?"

  His interest piqued, Drake stood and followed the young man out to the kitchen. "Sure, what is it?"

  "Sorry if it's nothing," Christopher said, picking up the neatly folded piece of paper from the worktop, "but I got this letter through my door last Wednesday. It had my name on it, but no stamp... So someone must have come here and posted it himself."

  Taking the clean white sheet, Drake unfolded it and examined the neatly looping handwriting. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary," he admitted. "Secret admirer? Young lad like you must have all the girls after him."

  Christopher smiled bashfully as the statement prompted his thoughts to return to Maddie. Despite the pleasant thought, however, the nature of the note still left him feeling uneasy.

  "I don't know... Barely anyone at college knows my address. And... I guess because I got it the same day I found the cats, it just made me nervous. Like I said, it's probably nothing."

  Despite voicing his assurance of an overreaction on his part, Christopher still couldn't shake the nervous feeling in his stomach. He hoped that telling the Officer would at least help settle his concerns. Even if it only resulted in Drake telling him that he was being paranoid.

  However, instead of rebuking his nervous concern, the Officer gave him advice.

  "If your intuition is telling you something, then trust it," he said. "Then if something comes of it, at least you were prepared. And if not, at least you get a pleasant surprise." Drake set the note down on the dining table in the middle of the room, as Christopher put the kettle on to boil. "Now I'm not saying you definitely need to be worried. But if you do feel like you need help with anything, just give us a call. Okay?"

  Christopher broke into a grin. "I thought it was the Police's job to reassure people. You basically just told me to watch out for stalkers. And call 999 if I get too scared."

  "Well I'm not exactly on the clock at the moment," Drake chuckled. "And I did tell you not to be worried. I just gave you a bit of sound advice."

  Pouring the boiling water into the two mugs, Christopher stirred in the teabags and moved for the sugar pot. "Milk and sugar?" he asked, over his shoulder.

  "One and a little bit of milk," Drake replied.

  As he finished the tea, Christopher handed the mug to Drake and continued the conversation. "So intuition... Is that why you're here, asking me about the cats after hours?"

  "Something like that," Drake said, sipping the brew. "I guess it's the reason why I'm on this case in the first place."

  The way the older man spoke belied the true nature of his work. It was something bigger than what Christopher had seen at the college. He could see it in Drake's face and the way that he held himself when talking about the case.

  "It's more than just the cats at the college, isn't it?"

  "You could say that," Drake replied, setting his mug down on the kitchen table, beside the note. "There have been some... strange things happening recently."

  "And you're trying to find out why?"

  "As best I can," he said, with a grin.

  Drinking from his own mug, Christopher peered over the rim and again studied the Officer's expression. This time, he saw something else. A fierce determination that gripped every feature of his face.

  The silence of the room was suddenly cut by the vibrating of Drake's phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he inspected the message and smiled.

  "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to come to the Station tomorrow," Drake continued, turning his attention back to Christopher. "After you finish college. Just to fill out an official statement, with everything we spoke about tonight. And anything else you might remember, in the meantime."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Christopher replied, setting down his tea and leaning back against the worktop.

  Pulling a card out of his pocket, Drake handed it to Christopher. "And if you need anything, or come up with anything after that, then give me a call. Alright?"

  Christopher nodded and placed the business card down on the worktop behind him.

  Leaving the mug still half full of tea on the dining table, Drake smiled and excused himself. "Sorry for interrupting your night. I've got to get going now; the wife is waiting up for me. Thank you for the tea."

  "Don't mention it," Christopher replied, following him to the door.

  "And again... If you need anything, make sure to use that number. Okay?"

  Christopher smiled and waved the Officer off. "Thank you. I will."

  Waiting until Drake had gone, Christopher watched the older man clamber into his car and drive off into the gloom of the afternoon.

  The meeting with the Officer had been strange and sudden, catching him completely off-guard. He didn't expect the police to follow up on the incident with the cats. Didn't expect to have the memories of the mutilated corpses dredged up again.

  Then there was the memory of the girl vanishing through the bushes. Something about it seemed strangely familiar. Despite the fact he had not seen the girl's face, or even managed to distinguish her hair color, Christopher felt like he recognized her. However, that could have just been his mind playing tricks on him for all he knew.

  As the red brake lights of the car vanished with the distance, Christopher turned back on himself and moved to close the door behind him.

  Movement flashed in his peripheral vision.

  Quickly whipping his head around, he tried to place the origin of the shadow, but it was far too fast to distinguish. Just like when Barbara had dropped him home on Monday night, he felt a shiver run down his spine. Bolting back into the house, he locked the door behind him.

  For a brief instant, he considered calling Drake and asking him to come back.

  Grinding his teeth together, Christopher cursed himself for feeling so vulnerable and banished the thought from his mind.

  He walked to the kitchen and turned the business card upside down.

  Friday morning broke slowly, the grey light seeping through the clouds and settling on Grand Stone Bay
in a hazy blanket. A fog had formed in the hills during the night, crawling down through the housing estate and lingering in the streets, covering everything in a grim layer of damp.

  Christopher felt the moisture clinging to his clothes as he left his house and locked the door behind him. Beads of dew formed in the strands of his hair as he walked, and cold prickled between the goose bumps on his arms. Traversing the pavement, his feet danced around the newly-formed puddles, in an effort to save his trouser legs from the water.

  His watch, the face filmed with a layer of condensation, told him that he was running on time — the same as every other day.

  Looking up from his wrist, his attention swept the street, identifying a number of students wearing the uniform of his college. Two boys walked side-by-side on the opposite side of the road, passing by a girl busy taking a picture of herself with her phone, while ahead of him another boy walked along, with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  As he walked, Christopher thought about his meeting with Drake Gregory the night before. Despite agreeing to head to the Police Station after junior college, he felt a strange sense of hesitation towards the prospect. While he did want to be of help in any way that he could, something held him back from wanting to go. Perhaps it was the prospect of reliving the memory yet again.

  Not wanting to talk about what he had seen was the whole reason why he had avoided almost everyone he knew at Eric's party, a week earlier; the reason why he had spoken to Maddie, over the plethora of familiar faces. And, as such, not wanting to talk about it had, so far, proved rather profitable.

  Pulling out his phone, Christopher smiled as he identified Maddie's usual "good morning" text. Responding with a message of his own, he arrived at his usual meeting place and lifted his hand in a wave to Barbara.

  Rounding the corner and seeing her best friend looking down at his phone, Barbara laughed and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "Texting your giiiiirlfriend?" she asked, teasingly lengthening the word.

 

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