Secrets of a Serial Killer: An absolutely gripping serial killer thriller that will keep you up all night!

by Rosie Walker

  They both nod. He can tell by Maggie’s frown that she really means it.

  ‘And you saved two people.’ She looks at Thomas, and then nods to Maggie. He did save two people; Maggie definitely needed saving.

  Mum carries on: ‘Especially getting Zoe out of that place. Two little heroes, Thomas and Maggie.’

  Maggie shakes her head. ‘But we didn’—’

  ‘I don’t want to be,’ Thomas says, sticking his face into the pillow. Thomas feels tears coming and turns on his side, facing the wall.

  Mum reaches out and strokes his back. ‘What’s up, baby?’

  ‘You keep saying that, that I’m the hero and the man of the house and need to be a grown-up. But I don’t want to be the man of the house, it’s not my job.’ He’s annoyed because tears run down his cheeks and saliva is getting in the way of his words coming out. ‘I don’t want to look after people and save people, it’s scary and I’m tired. I want Dad to come back. It’s his job, not mine. Can you ask him to come back now?’

  Mum’s quiet and Thomas wonders if he’s upset her. Sometimes she goes a bit weird when he asks about Dad, quiet and pinched in the face.

  Maggie leans forward in her bed. ‘That’s it. You have to tell him.’

  Thomas looks between Maggie and Mum. Mum’s face is red around the edges, with white patches on her cheeks. She’s sucked her lips inwards even more and is glaring at Maggie.

  ‘Tell me what?’ He frowns, feeling a sharp pain in his forehead. ‘What does Maggie know that I don’t? Where’s Dad?’ He’s furious with both of them, no matter what secret they’ve been keeping from him all this time. ‘Why does Maggie know?’ He’s angrier than he’s ever been, and jumps out of bed even though it tugs at the IV tube sticking out of the back of his hand.

  Maggie shrieks and covers her face with her hands. ‘Thomas! Watch out!’

  Mum stands up and straightens the IV stand, bending down so her face is level with his, her hands on his shoulders.

  ‘It wasn’t a secret we’ve been keeping from you; Maggie shouldn’t have found out, but her brothers told her. I asked her not to talk about it with you until I’d found a way to tell you properly, at the right time.’ Mum says the last bit through gritted teeth with a glance at Maggie.

  Maggie sits on her hospital bed, her face still dirty, her hair a wild mess. He hates her. ‘A way to tell me what?’ He balls his hands into fists.

  Mum opens her mouth, but Maggie interrupts her. ‘Uncle Tom’s in prison.’

  Thomas freezes. ‘Dad’s in prison?’

  Mum hangs her head and seems to shrink. ‘I didn’t want you to find out this way, I’m sorry, TomTom. It’s a short sentence; we’re hoping he’ll be out by Christmas.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Thomas asks, his brain filling with the awful images of the last twenty-four hours. He’s seen such badness, such evil; his kind, clever Dad can’t be like that.

  Mum runs her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. She looks out of the window and flinches a little bit. ‘He took some things that didn’t belong to him. Pieces of copper from old buildings, nothing of value to anyone; and then he sold them. He thought no one wanted them and he could make some money to buy you nicer presents.’

  Thomas’s cheeks feel hot. ‘You knew,’ he hisses at Maggie. ‘You knew all along and you pretended you didn’t. You little … you little …’ he can barely form words.

  Maggie kneels up on her bed. ‘I didn’t – I’m not – I was trying to give you clues, TomTom. So you could work it out.’

  ‘You’re a snake.’

  ‘I’m not! I was hinting. I thought if you guessed, then I wouldn’t break my promise.’

  ‘You’re a liar and a pig.’

  ‘That’s enough, Thomas.’ Mum’s voice is sharp but her face is sad, eyebrows knotted together in the middle.

  He looks away from Mum, over her shoulder and out of the ward into the corridor. There’s a bottle of hand sanitiser stuck to the wall by the door, visitors and nurses walking past, their shoes squeaking on the lino.

  He grabs his IV stand and steps away from the bed.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Mum asks.

  ‘For a walk. To get away from you two liars. I’ll come back in a few minutes.’ He wheels his stand away from the bed, unable to stay near Mum and Maggie for a second longer.

  Helen

  The doctors and nurses at Royal Lancaster Infirmary have been amazing, with one nurse even lending Helen a phone charger so she can let people know that Zoe has been found.

  Zoe’s in a private room, and the doctors have given her medication to keep her calm while her body recovers from the physical trauma. She’s on a drip to replenish her fluids, and she keeps dropping off to sleep; Helen doesn’t know whether that’s the calming medication, the painkillers, or the effects of the last three days.

  For now, Zoe’s asleep in the hospital bed, machines beeping and whirring alongside her. Helen wants to hold her hand, but there’s a pulse meter on her finger measuring her heart beats, and a cannula in the vein on the back of her hand.

  Helen watches her chest rise and fall. Her face is so pale, the cuts and bruises a stark red against the white of her skin. They’ve taped up the wound on her neck and it’s covered with gauze.

  ‘Oh, Tony. Her poor eyes. Our poor baby.’

  Zoe’s eyes are red and swollen, the doctors don’t know if there’ll be any lasting vision problems. They won’t know until the swelling reduces and they can examine her eyes properly.

  Tony sits on the other side of the bed, occasionally reaching out to touch Zoe’s arm, running his finger along her skin and then pulling his hand back as if he’s worried she might break under his touch.

  He keeps reaching up to brush tears from his cheeks. Helen pretends not to notice. She stands up, stretches and stands looking out of the window. It’s a great view of the city’s landscape, with trees and hills stretching into the distance.

  ‘Helen, look,’ Tony calls.

  Zoe’s pulling herself up in bed, reaching for the bandage at her neck.

  Helen rushes towards the bed, but Tony is there faster. He reaches for Zoe’s arm and stops her from pulling at the bandage, placing her hand gently back on the white sheets. Rope burns wrap around each wrist.

  ‘Hey, Zo,’ says Tony.

  ‘Don’t try and open your eyes,’ says Helen. ‘The doctors say you need to rest them.’

  Zoe nods.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  She shakes her head. ‘Bad,’ she whispers, and asks for water.

  Helen holds out a plastic cup and lifts a straw to Zoe’s lips. She drinks for a long time, until she’s breathless.

  ‘That’s better,’ Zoe says, her voice a little stronger.

  ‘Dane wanted us to say hi,’ says Helen. ‘He’ll come to see you when you’re ready.’

  ‘No rush though,’ says Tony in a quiet voice. ‘But he’s a good guy. Came over while you were missing and helped the police.’

  Zoe gives a small smile.

  Helen places the plastic cup back on the side table. ‘And I think – now that Max knows you’re okay – he’s desperate to interview you for an article on his true crime site.’

  Zoe laughs and then winces from the pain of the sudden movement.

  ‘Only when you feel up to it, of course. And Abbie’s mum called too, to apologise.’ Helen tries to keep the resentment from her voice. Zoe flinches a bit at the mention of Abbie’s name. ‘Apparently, Abbie’s been acting strangely for a while.’

  ‘Oh?’ Tony sits forward in his seat. ‘You didn’t mention this.’ He frowns at Helen.

  Zoe’s face pales even more than before.

  Helen puts a hand on Zoe’s arm. ‘She’s been having a relationship with an older man. Much older. Secretly, of course. It’s why she was being so evasive with questions; she didn’t want Max to find out, or her parents.’

  Tony exhales, his cheeks puffing out. ‘And she nearly compromi
sed an investigation for that? I think she can wait a while before we let her in this room. Maybe about twenty years, if she ever learns some responsibility for herself.’

  ‘And her friends,’ adds Helen. ‘I’ll never trust her again.’

  Tony blusters, ‘It’s not like she was involved, I suppose. She’s just a stupid teenager, that’s all.’

  ‘Her mum says she’ll be grounded for a very long time.’

  Zoe opens her mouth to reply.

  ‘Knock knock,’ says a man’s voice from the doorway.

  Zoe flinches.

  Helen turns, and it’s the police officer who visited them the night before.

  ‘Detective Constable …?’ Tony stands.

  ‘Healey,’ he finishes. ‘And DC Parks. We’re sorry to disturb you. We need to ask Zoe some questions, if she’s up to it.’

  Zoe turns her head towards the door. ‘Have you found him?’

  The police officer hesitates, and takes a step into the room, followed by his partner officer. ‘That’s a complicated question. Can we chat?’

  Helen frowns. ‘I don’t know if she’s feeling up to—’

  Zoe holds out a hand. ‘I want to help.’

  Helen and Tony stand up and move to the end of the bed, relinquishing their chairs to the police officers.

  ‘Can we ask you a couple of questions, Zoe? The nurse said you’re feeling okay, but if you’re not up to it then, just say the word.’ His tone is gentle, and Helen is grateful. These are the people who will find that scumbag and bring him to justice.

  Helen borrows a couple of chairs from a nearby empty room for her and Tony. She pulls them to the end of Zoe’s bed; their legs squeak on the lino floor.

  Zoe sits up in her bed, a slight wince as she moves. ‘Have you found him?’

  DC Healey shakes his head once. ‘We’re scouring the area. We’re undergoing forensic testing on the whole area to see if we can get an ID from anyone on the system. An item found in the pub car park links someone with your kidnap, Zoe. And some other items hidden in a house in Heysham.’

  Parks gives Healey a look. He’s given them more information than he should, Helen suspects.

  Zoe nods. ‘Who’s house?’

  ‘We’re questioning a man named Paul Herbert. Does that name sound familiar?’

  Zoe sinks back into her pillows. ‘Thank God. I thought he was going to come and find me to finish what he started. Especially after I stabbed him.’

  The police officers exchange a glance.

  ‘What?’ asks Zoe. ‘Why are you so quiet?’ She moves her head between each officer, still not able to open her eyes to look at them.

  ‘It was a very intense few hours for you, Zoe. So we understand that you might have got some things mixed up or confused.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything confused. What are you on about?’

  ‘There’s a few things that don’t quite fit,’ says Parks. She lifts her hat and scratches her scalp through her plaited hair. ‘Your Mum said that you stabbed your attacker in the eye, but Paul Herbert isn’t injured. There’s not a mark on him.’

  Tony coughs. ‘Sounds like you’ve got the wrong guy.’

  ‘I’ve never seen a case like this before,’ says Parks. ‘Everything points to a particular suspect, but doesn’t at the same time. Is it possible that you thought you stabbed him but actually missed, or hit a tree or the caravan or something? I mean, with your eyes … so sore …’

  Zoe shakes her head like she’s trying to rid her brain of unwanted thoughts. She speaks slowly, taking her time over every word. ‘No, that’s really not right. I remember it so clearly, and—’ she pauses. ‘Sorry, Mum, this is going to be gross. I remember the weird pop the blade made when it punctured his eyeball. And he bled a lot. There was so much blood.’

  ‘We are testing the blood we found at the scene. It’s possible that there’s an additional suspect we haven’t found yet, or some kind of ring. It’s not a clear-cut case at the moment.’

  Zoe’s face turns even paler. Her eyes fill with tears, and Helen stands up. ‘Maybe we should leave it for today?’ she asks.

  Zoe turns to the wall, hiding her tears from the officers.

  DC Healey nods. ‘We don’t want to push you too much, Zoe. You look after yourself.’

  They stand to leave, shaking Helen’s hand. DC Parks pats Zoe’s shoulder and she flinches slightly at the touch. ‘We’ll be back to speak to you when you’re feeling a bit better, love.’

  ‘He’s still out there,’ whispers Zoe as they leave the ward. ‘He got away. He said he would.’

  Helen shivers. ‘He won’t get far. They’ll get him.’

  ‘I did stab him, Mum. Dad, you guys believe me?’ Zoe reaches out for a hand. Tony and Helen take the seats near the bed and grab a hand each, Helen reaching up to stroke Zoe’s cheek.

  ‘You can’t have imagined it, Zo. I saw the blood on the grass. I believe you.’

  ‘We’ll find the bastard who did this,’ growls Tony.

  The nurse knocks on the door. ‘Just to let you know that hospital visiting hours are ending.’

  Helen and Tony gather their coats and kiss Zoe goodbye.

  ‘Do you want to grab a cup of tea before we go home?’ she asks Tony.

  He gives her a tearful nod. His nose is red. He’s looking older, bags under his eyes and eyebrows bushy with streaks of grey. He’s always had a full head of thick black hair, but now under the harsh lights of the hospital Helen can see a thinning on top, and the occasional grey amongst the black.

  She stops at the doorway to squirt sanitising gel onto her hands from the dispenser on the wall.

  The nurse enters Zoe’s room and Helen hears her singsongy voice to Zoe: ‘There’s another patient wants to pop by and see you for a couple of minutes, if you’re up to it.’

  Helen smiles at the nurse, and catches up with Tony, who’s looking at a noticeboard further down the corridor. ‘Sounds like one of the kids is coming to visit Zoe, isn’t that nice?’

  Thomas

  There’s a play area at the end of the ward, and a boy in a Batman mask is moving toy cars around a rug. It looks like there might be a PS4, and other toys that are fun. It doesn’t matter to Thomas though, he’s not in the mood to play with toys.

  He crosses to a small red armchair and picks up an Alex Rider book to read, but he’s so angry that his eyes won’t take in any of the words. He skims the lines without reading them, thinking about what a traitor Maggie is and how his mum is such a liar. Lying is something she has specifically told Thomas is wrong and that he shouldn’t do.

  Two nurses are drinking coffee just outside the door, leaning against the reception desk. Their clothes look comfortable, a bit like pyjamas. And they’re wearing crocs on their feet. He likes crocs.

  Thomas stares at the page, the words blurring and running together like snakes. The nurses whisper to each other, and he catches the occasional word. ‘And the two kiddies on this ward.’

  Dad in prison. Thomas tries to imagine Dad in a pair of orange overalls, like in films, eating his dinner off a compartmentalised tray with a section for each part of the meal. Caught stealing; something else his parents have always told Thomas is bad. He squeezes the book in his hands until his bandaged hand aches.

  ‘The derelict asylum?’ one of the nurses says, and takes a sip of tea. Thomas looks up from his book; they’re talking about him and Maggie, that little traitor. And Zoe.

  ‘And one of them had been in there for years. His captive, like Elizabeth Fritzl or something. Apparently, she’s very emaciated.’

  Thomas frowns. Who are they talking about now?

  ‘Yeah, hair all matted, really dirty looking. I caught a look as I went down for my break. She’s pretty wild. They’ve got her in her own room; she’s in a bad state. Ranting and raving, apparently.’

  Thomas scrambles up, his IV stand crashing to the ground. Alex Rider slaps to the lino. His vision goes dark and fuzzy for a moment, and he stops to wait
for it to clear. ‘Hey. Be careful,’ says the boy in the Batman mask, picking up his toy car and moving it to safety.

  ‘And the teenager, too?’ A nurse whispers. ‘Poor love.’

  Spit rushes into his mouth like he’s about to vomit.

  ‘Yeah. Both victims are on the third floor, adjoining rooms.’

  Anonymous: Make a clean getaway

  By Urban Dark Reporter

  Anonymous contributor claims to advise readers on the best techniques for changing your identity and starting again after committing a crime*

  * Editor’s note: This article is a work of creative non-fiction, for entertainment purposes only; Urban Dark Reporter accepts no responsibility for any harm caused by following the directions outlined below.

  Stay off grid

  Operate only in cash: work cash-in-hand, pay rent to inattentive landlords. Avoid leaving an electronic trail.

  Relinquish all glory

  You cannot take credit for your crime. Fade into the shadows, relinquish all ownership and allow someone else to gain the title of ‘killer’ on your behalf.

  Steal an identity

  Adopt the identity of someone recently dead and don’t report their death. Use their bank cards, income, benefits, vehicle etc. Just make sure their body is never found.

  Destroy your old identity

  Eliminate your previous existence. Stage a fire, plant a body that could be mistaken for yours, phone a local newspaper to post an obituary of yourself. Leave everything behind, no matter how difficult that is. And do not say goodbye.

  Adopt a new appearance

  Change what you look like. Get glasses if you don’t wear them, switch to contacts if you do. Buy a wig, develop a penchant for hats, change your body weight or size – whatever you need to do to look like a different person, do it.

  Blend into a crowd

  Go to a busy city where you know no one and no one will notice you. Local police will be overworked. Populations shift regularly in university towns and students don’t take notice of anyone outside of their own demographic.