The Hunter Inside

by David McGowan

  As O’Neill appreciated the unique atmosphere of the scene in which he was involved, a car screeched around the corner, almost rising up onto two wheels as the driver pursued a frantic pace down the road towards the property.

  O’Neill stood and watched, wondering if this was his next, and only, break in the case. The car slowed as it approached the property, and O’Neill wondered if this were due simply to the huge police presence that the driver was confronted by. The small maroon vehicle came to a dead stop outside the neighboring property and a man sprang out, rushing towards the point around the police barrier that was nearest to the house of the late Paul Wayans.

  O’Neill took a good look at the man as he began to walk down the garden towards him. He was an old man, O’Neill noticed, too old surely to have anything to do with the crime, but he would take no chances. Experience had taught him that the best place to have his guard was well and truly up.

  Tears welled in the corners of the man’s eyes, and as O’Neill got to within a few feet of where he stood he could hear the man as he mumbled repeatedly to himself, ‘I could have stopped this.’

  ‘Excuse me, Sir. Did I hear you say that you could have stopped this? Stopped what exactly?’ This was a man that O’Neill definitely wanted to have a long conversation with. He seemed to have something he wanted to say and, propelled by guilt, he just might let slip something that could be a lot of use to the Special Agent.

  The man raised his eyes and looked at O’Neill through fresh tears that had begun to roll down his face, managing to splutter out his name to the big Special Agent. It was a name that was fresh in the mind of O’Neill, and he wondered if fate had helped him out for once. He extended a hand, which the man took, and said, ‘I’m Special Agent Sam O’Neill from the FBI. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mayhew.’

  ‘How did it kill him? Was it bad?’ While he was not sure that these were details he really wished to hear, Todd Mayhew could not prevent himself from asking them of the big Special Agent, who decided it best not to answer.

  O’Neill pondered the fact that while this man certainly had something to tell him, he did not have a gut feeling that the old-timer was guilty of anything unsavory. In fact, his cop’s instinct told him that this man was going to help him, a lot.

  ‘Mr. Mayhew, I’m sorry but yes; Paul was murdered sometime last night. I was going to come and see you before this happened…’

  ‘I didn’t believe him at first when he told me,’ Mayhew interrupted, ‘I thought he must be having some kind of breakdown, but then I looked at these…’ Mayhew held out the file of papers given to him by Wayans the previous night.

  ‘Listen Mr. Mayhew. Why don’t we go and talk about this somewhere a little quieter and more comfortable?’ O’Neill was determined to gather any information that Mayhew might be able to give. He was also concerned that the stress of being so near the crime scene may compromise the accuracy of the information, as the old man grieved for his departed friend.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ he mumbled.

  O’Neill looked at his dazed expression and wondered how many years were being piled on by the stress of the situation he found himself a part of. Most people never encountered the murder of a personal friend throughout their whole lives, and O’Neill could normally tell within one minute whether or not they would stand up to the pressure. About Mayhew though, he wasn’t sure.

  ‘Can you just hang on a moment while I tell someone where I’m going? Where are we going to anyway?’

  Mayhew pondered the Special Agent’s question for a moment before answering. Normally he would have taken him to Chee-Uz, but he feared the memory of Paul sitting bruised and afraid would be too much for him so he said, ‘There’s a coffee bar a couple of blocks along from here. Is that okay?’

  O’Neill nodded and said, ‘I’ll be back in a moment’, before turning and making his way past the forensics agents that were still being kept busy by the task of gathering anything that might prove crucial to the investigation. As he entered the house and went into the lounge, he saw Hoskins standing with his back to him, apparently without anything to do, and said, ‘Hoskins. I’ve got to go somewhere. To see a witness.’

  Hoskins whirled round in a fashion that suggested he had been caught red-handed. ‘Yeah, okay Boss,’ he stammered, an awkward expression visible across his face.

  O’Neill turned and made his way back towards the door. Before exiting, he turned and said, ‘Oh and Hoskins… Don’t fuck this one up or I’ll have your balls, okay?’ Hoskins’ face turned a paler shade as he mumbled an answer in the affirmative, and he watched as Special Agent O’Neill walked out of the front door of the house.

  Mayhew stood, disconsolately waiting for O’Neill as he walked down the garden towards him. He continued to weep lightly, but was determined to be strong and hold his grief until he had done something that would help O’Neill. He bit his lip and tried to suppress his grief, as the two men got into the small maroon car that Mayhew had arrived in and made their way towards the coffee bar.

  O’Neill remained quiet. He feared upsetting the old man as he drove, and instead took the opportunity to familiarize himself with the area around the home of Paul Wayans. The slightest thing could give him a clue that ultimately might crack the case. He also figured that Mayhew could use the time to compose himself, and prepare himself for what he hoped would be an enlightening conversation.

  As the streets rolled by, he glanced across at Mayhew, hoping to see that he was fully in control of himself. He saw a man that held on by his fingertips, his emotions threatening to tip him over the edge while he fought to control them.

  Within three minutes they arrived at the imaginatively named ‘Coffee House’, pulling up in the sparsely populated parking lot that was directly in front of the unimpressive grey building. O’Neill was relieved to see that the diner was almost empty; he would prefer to have his conversation with Todd Mayhew without being overheard. The mall that was situated next door to the diner held more allure for the spend-crazy residents than seeking sustenance in a nondescript and tired old coffee house.

  A small, plump man approached the table as they sat down. O’Neill glanced at him.

  ‘Espresso please’.

  Mayhew nodded and repeated O’Neill’s words. The man rushed away, presumably to prepare their request in as quick a time as possible; determined to ensure his tip was as large as it could be.

  ‘You okay, Todd?’

  O’Neill’s opening gambit was always to obtain the trust from the witness he was going to question. He was always determined to make them feel that he was on their side; despite the fact the only side he fought for was the Bureau.

  As he looked into the eyes of Todd Mayhew, he had a feeling that, maybe for once, he had found someone whose side he could be on.

  Except that that was not how it worked.

  Maybe Mayhew was ready to be on his side.

  ‘A large part of me expected to see you guys there when I arrived.’ Mayhew said. ‘I just hoped…well, you know…’ He trailed off as the plump man returned – not in world record time – and placed the two espressos in front of the men. Mayhew paused until the man was out of earshot behind the counter before finishing his sentence, ‘I hoped…that I wouldn’t be too late.’

  ‘Todd, Paul was killed in the early hours of the morning. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it from happening.’

  ‘Special Agent O’Neill, I saw Paul late last night. It must have been a couple of hours before he died. I could have stopped it from happening if I’d have taken him more seriously when he told me.’

  ‘I think I probably know what he told you Todd, and to be honest I had a hard time believing him myself.’

  O’Neill could almost scream at himself for thinking Wayans’ story was an elaborate cover-up. His senses were normally so much better. But his gut instinct had let him down, and there was only one other time that he had been so wrong with his judgments. That had been a long time ago, and he ha
d been a lot younger then. His judgment should be better now.

  Todd looked up at the cop, who towered over him even when they were sitting, and replied cynically, ‘Yeah, I saw by his face that your guys had trouble believing him yesterday.’

  O’Neill allowed his own gaze to drop to the tabletop as a sense of embarrassment overcame his desire to meet the gaze of the old man. He owed respect to a man that he had abandoned and who must have been so alone and afraid at the end.

  ‘Anyway, I don’t suppose it matters now,’ Mayhew said, letting O’Neill off the hook. Special Agent O’Neill was thankful of this. If the Bureau were made to feel embarrassment for all of their mistakes they would never be able to do their jobs.

  He raised his eyes until they were once again fixed on Todd Mayhew’s. ‘So, Todd. Tell me, how could you have stopped it?’

  18

  Sandy Myers woke at 9AM. Her first thoughts were of amazement at the fact she had managed to sleep at all after the horror of the dream that had left her screaming in terror. Her second thought was of home as she looked at the alarm clock on the small, three legged bedside table and registered the fact that if she were at home she would already have been up and about for two hours.

  She always rose at seven when she was at home, and made breakfast before waking the others. That way she was ensured free passage to the bathroom to prepare herself for work, while Joe and the kids ate their breakfast and struggled with the sleep that hovered in their eyes.

  She would give anything to be there now.

  With the dream that had tortured her sleep still fading, Sandy went into the bathroom and rinsed her face with cold water. The chill in her cheeks made her more alert, and she went down the stairs towards the kitchen where Melissa sat reading the morning paper.

  She began to think of the day ahead rather than the night just gone.

  ‘Good morning, Sandy. Did you sleep okay in the end?’ Melissa had been up for two and a half hours, worrying about Sandy and waiting for her to rise.

  Sandy’s screams in the middle of the night had been enough to convince her that something was seriously wrong, and if it was serious enough for Sandy to keep it from her then it must be pretty serious.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry about waking you last night. I must be a little unsettled being away from home. I slept like a baby in the end.’

  Sandy was determined to not let anything slip to Melissa. Despite the burden of guilt that accompanied lying to her friend, she felt that it was best not to draw her into the hugeness of the situation.

  Melissa was determined to find out why Sandy had turned up without any clothes and unannounced and asked, ‘So, how is everyone at home? You didn’t really say last night.’

  ‘Well, Joe’s been pretty tired too. He’s been working long hours so we can start putting some money together for the boys’ college fund. The boys are great. David’s good as gold most of the time. Sean’s a villain but I don’t suppose you can have it all your own way, can you?’ The thought of the boys made Sandy perk up a little and she smiled as she finished her sentence.

  ‘Sounds great. I’ll have to come and see you when things are a bit more settled. I’d love to see Joe and the boys.’

  ‘They’d love to see you too ‘Liss,’ Sandy replied, hoping desperately that the day when things were settled would not be too long in coming. ‘Do you mind if I call Joe? He’ll be worried otherwise.’

  ‘Sure, go right ahead,’ Melissa said, beckoning towards the phone with her left hand. Sandy thanked her, before walking through the small alcove and picking up the receiver. The alcove would prevent Melissa from overhearing her conversation, and she was glad of the privacy it afforded her.

  She didn’t think she would eavesdrop, but the chance that she might accidentally overhear something she said was a worry for Sandy.

  She dialed the number without having to think and listened as the phone at home rang three times before Joe snatched up the receiver.

  ‘Hello, Sandy?’ The note of anxiety in his voice pained Sandy and she wished things were different. Her life seemed so insecure, so full of wishes that she worried might not come true.

  ‘Hi, babe.’ Sandy tried to sound relaxed as her eyes filled with tears. It was harder than she would have imagined being away from home; she could almost have taken the risk to her life just to be there. While she may be safer at Melissa’s, she would be lonely every second she was without her boys around her. They were her heartbeat. The reason her blood flowed through her veins.

  ‘Are you okay, Sandy?’

  ‘Yes Joe. I’m fine. Are you all okay?’ Sandy had trouble holding back her tears as she asked the question, and knew that the telephone call would have to be a short one.

  ‘Everyone’s great, Sandy. We miss you though. Where are you?’

  Joe tried to ask the question casually, knowing that she was unlikely to tell him.

  ‘Joe, I can’t tell you where I am. You know that. I’m not going to put you or the boys at risk. It’s bad enough that I am.’

  ‘Okay Sandy, I understand. But listen, I want you to call me if things get too rough. I‘ll be there in a shot, okay? Wherever you are.’

  ‘I will Joe. Listen, I’ve got to go.’ She knew that if she didn’t go now she would be unable to hold her mask together and would break down. She couldn’t let this happen. She didn’t want Melissa to be worried. If she broke down it would be obvious that something was seriously wrong.

  But Melissa did not sit too far away from where Sandy was speaking, and although the alcove sheltered her somewhat from hearing Sandy’s conversation, she managed to make out parts of what Sandy had said. What she heard confirmed her worst fears; Sandy was at risk from something. Now what could she do? She couldn’t just come out and ask her. Sandy had chosen not to tell her and it would be very embarrassing for both parties if Melissa confronted her on the issue.

  Sandy returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Everybody okay at home?’ Melissa asked her, deciding to wait and see if Sandy was ready to tell of the reason she was at risk. Sandy had never been able to keep things from her for too long. She had even known that Sandy was pregnant before Joe had.

  ‘Everyone’s great. Joe’s taken a few days off work to unwind with the kids.’ Sandy was thinking on her feet once again, but she knew that Joe would not be relaxing. She knew that he would be pacing up and down the house, aging a year for every minute that ticked past on the clock he’d be watching feverishly, as he waited for the phone to ring. Melissa had a fair idea of this fact herself.

  ‘That’s great. Listen, you help yourself to breakfast. I’m gonna do some laundry then I have to go to work.’ Melissa presented a mock frown to Sandy, and she grinned as she watched Melissa turn and walk towards the laundry room.

  19

  Bill Arnold’s morning had been quiet. He had woken at 8AM, wondering for a moment where he was, before the events of the previous day came flashing across his mind. An hour later his pondering had led to him feeling slightly better about the situation he was in. While being away from home was not ideal for him, he felt one hundred percent more relaxed at the fact that there was no mailbox for him to check. He looked through the window of his room at the quiet street outside and wondered what he could do to pass the time for the rest of the day.

  He had pondered the reasons why he was still alive and had been able to come to no conclusion other than that he had escaped detection upon leaving the cemetery at Glen Rock. If this was not the case then surely he would be dead by now.

  He wondered if his stalker did know his next move; it didn’t seem so at that moment, and he started to think that maybe he hadn’t been watched. He still couldn’t explain how his mysterious stalker knew that he would be at the cemetery though, and he had an inkling that there was something more mysterious to what was happening to him than met the eye.

  He was going to have to be very careful; that was one thing he did know.

  He would have to decide whether to buy so
me food and drink from the mini mall at the end of the block of motel rooms, or get out and take in some of the scenery of Atlantic Beach.

  Both Sandy Myers and Bill Arnold felt a lot more relaxed than they had done the previous day. The change of scenery had made both feel distanced somewhat from the recent events that had turned their worlds upside down, and having come to no harm and not having to read any more stomach churning letters meant that the butterflies that each felt in their stomach decreased.

  They would not be left alone forever though, and they would do well to keep up their guard. A false sense of security would not be good for their prospects, and if they could see how Paul Wayans looked at that moment they would not be feeling at all relaxed.

  But they would see how Paul Wayans looked. All in good time.

  20

  Strength surged through his veins as he rested in the old warehouse. He felt good; more complete. Never could he have imagined just how much strength would be gained from the killing of Wayans. He felt that he could leap a mile and run two hundred miles in an hour and the task ahead was getting easier and easier for him with every two minutes that elapsed.

  It was only his determination that nothing should go wrong that kept him from going for the others at that moment. He was strong enough to kill two people at once without being challenged; even four did not seem a problem to him. For now he would wait and bide his time though, picking his moment carefully. He would make sure that the right time came.

  Arnold was not too far away now, but it was Carson that he turned his thoughts to. He had begun his plan of bringing her to him in the early hours of the morning and he knew that by continuing his agenda, she would come running straight into his grasp. Today would be the start of Operation Carson. Admittedly his day would not be filled with Carson and only Carson. There would still be time to make sure that Arnold didn’t move.