'You changed your name.'
'How the hell do you know that?'
'I heard Adamson call you Jason.' Hendricks seemed satisfied. Evan could almost feel him relax again on the other side of the wall. It was so bizarre talking to him like this, sitting not six feet from his victims as if they were just two people having a normal conversation.
'Stupid bastard,' he hissed. Evan assumed he meant Adamson, not himself. 'He's the cause of all this shit. He ruined everything.'
Evan inched sideways to try to see where Hendricks was but the angle was all wrong. He inched back again and waited for him to continue.
'I came back, got a nice easy job as the school bus driver and everything was going just fine. I had a new identity, regular money and this nice house to live in.'
With a secret chamber to get up to whatever you wanted.
Evan was aware he was getting a carefully edited version of events; the gospel according to Carl Hendricks.
'What happened?'
'Jack Adamson happened, that's what.' There was real venom in his tone. Evan heard a thud that sounded like Hendricks kicking something solid on the floor. Then it struck him. Hendricks had either killed or knocked out Adamson and carried or dragged him back to the basement room. That's what he meant when he said he thought Evan might like some company. He was going to dump him in the room with Evan before sealing it up for good.
'He just turned up one day. He'd got out of prison again a few days before and he had nowhere to go. Been sleeping rough.'
'I'm having trouble seeing you as the Good Samaritan.'
'I owed him.'
'It must have been a hell of a debt.'
A thought suddenly crossed Evan's mind. 'What did he do, save you from all the other cons when you were inside?'
Hendricks didn't say anything and Evan knew he was right. He decided it was time to start pushing him a bit harder.
'It makes me wonder what you were in for if you needed protecting from the other prisoners. It's not like you're so pretty they were after a piece of your ass.'
'You can wonder what the hell you like. You're going to have plenty of time for thinking.' He sniggered again.
Once more Evan felt the urge to smash the bricks he was holding right into his grinning face, turn it into a mass of blood and broken teeth.
'I think it's because you were in for interfering with little kids.'
'You shut your mouth or I'll shut it for good.'
'Was it little boys? I think it probably was. You seem the sort to me. You can't handle women, can you - not grown ones anyway. Can’t you get it up?'
On the other side of the wall he heard Hendricks rack the slide on his shotgun.
Maybe not quite so hard.
'Okay, okay,' he said, 'just get on with your story. Adamson turned up and you gave him a room...'
Hendricks didn't say anything for a minute and Evan reckoned the immediate danger of being shot had passed. He relaxed slightly.
'I thought he'd learned his lesson,' Hendricks said after a while. 'He'd had a really rough time in prison and I thought that was the end of it.'
'But it wasn't?'
'No. I had a few beers after work that day and when I came home I found him here with the kid. I couldn't believe it. Less than a week since he'd got out of prison. Stupid bastard.'
There was the sound of another kick.
'How did he do it?'
'I had an old campervan at the time, just sitting in the barn going rusty. He didn't have a car so I let him use it. He picked the kid up as he walked home from school. Bundled him into the back and that was it.'
'And you told the police you never saw the boy leave the school campus to throw them off the scent.'
'Something like that. I didn't see him leave that day, as it happens.'
'Convenient you remembered that. Helped ensure they spent the whole time chasing their tails.'
'The police don't need any help doing that.'
Evan agreed with him wholeheartedly but didn't think it was an appropriate time to get into a discussion about the shortcomings of the police force.
'Why did you protect him? Why didn't you turn him in?'
'Like I told you, I owed him. I couldn't do that to him.'
Evan thought he knew a more persuasive reason. 'Nobody would have believed you weren't involved, would they? Not with your record.'
'No, they wouldn't, the sanctimonious bastards.' He was starting to work himself up into a frenzy at the injustice of it all. 'I hate this shitty country sometimes. They all talk about rehabilitation - what a crock of shit. You only ever get one chance and then your card's marked forever. I fought for this country and look what I got in return. Bastards.'
'You'd have got another chance if you'd turned him in. Proof that you were a reformed man.'
'I wish I had now.'
'Now that you've killed him anyway, you mean.'
'He's not dead; not yet anyway.' The matter-of-fact way he said it chilled Evan's blood. He was starting to think Hendricks really was insane. On the one hand he was deeply hurt by the injustices he’d suffered at the hands of the penal system, and on the other he’d buried two people alive and was about to add two more.
'What happened after you found them here?'
'We couldn't let the boy go so we kept him down here. Fed him and looked after him properly.'
'And sexually assaulted him. Once, twice a day? Was that part of looking after him properly?'
'That was Adamson. I didn't have anything to do with that. The guy's got a problem. He'd stick his johnson in a bucket of worms if they were wriggling nicely.'
'But you didn't try to stop it.'
Hendricks snorted. 'You obviously don't know Jack Adamson. You don't get in his way when he's like that. Not if you've got any sense.'
'Right. So there you were, all living happily together - some more happily than others - until... what? Until his father turns up on your doorstep?'
'That was Adamson's fault as well.'
'It would be. You are so misunderstood.'
Hendricks ignored the jibe. 'He panicked. The boy's father was going round to everyone asking if they'd seen the boy. He didn't suspect us; we were just one of the houses on his list.'
'What did he do?'
'Beat him half to death. Adamson's answer to most of life's little problems. He's not the sharpest tool in the box.'
'He sure sounds like an all-round nice guy.'
'That's good, because the two of you are going to be spending a long time together.'
'Why this?' Evan waved his arm to include the awful scene in front of him, even though Hendricks couldn't see him. He was sure Hendricks knew what he was talking about.
'It seemed like a good idea at the time. Easier than killing and burying them and risk some animal digging up the remains.'
Evan was appalled at the easy way he weighed up a welcome saving of effort on their part against the lingering deaths of Robbie and Daniel Clayton, and came out on the side of the labor-saving option. Not to mention the fact that he now proposed to bury two more people alive in the interests of tidying up the loose ends.
'Anyway, I can’t sit here shooting the breeze with you all day,' Hendricks said. 'It’s time to move your new best friend in.'
CHAPTER 43
Evan heard Hendricks start to drag Adamson's inert body across the floor towards the hole. He tightened his grip on the bricks, the edges sharp in his palm. He heard a barely audible shit escape from Hendricks, followed closely by a low moan.
Adamson was coming round.
It was Evan's one and only chance. If Hendricks was dragging Adamson it was likely he had his back to the opening. Ignoring the pain in his ankle, he hobbled quickly up the steps and looked out. Sure enough, Hendricks had his back to him, leaning over the supine form of Adamson. It was the first time Evan had seen Adamson. He was tall and sinewy and on the back of his head his ginger buzz cut was caked with dried blood. It seemed to be Hendrick
s' trademark.
He saw Adamson's legs twitch and heard another low moan. Hendricks picked the shotgun up again and prepared to send his so-called friend back into oblivion. He lifted it up and brought the butt down with a wet, fleshy thud onto the back of Adamson's head. It was an awful sound that made Evan feel sick to his stomach.
Hendricks straightened up again just as Evan drew back his arm. He hurled the bricks at the back of Hendricks' head, putting everything he had into it. Hendricks heard the movement behind him. He turned his head and met the flying bricks full-on. He staggered as they caught him solidly on the cheekbone splitting the skin open.
Evan didn't wait to admire his throw or even see if it connected. Hendricks' shocked gasp of pain was all he needed to hear. He vaulted onto the jagged bottom edge of the hole, steadied himself momentarily and launched himself through the air onto Hendricks' back. The impact sent the shotgun flying from Hendricks' hands as they both crashed to the floor.
He grabbed a handful of Hendricks' hair, pulled his head back and slammed his face into the floor. He got a good grip with his other hand and ground Hendricks’ face into the dirt. He didn't expect it to achieve much but it was hugely satisfying. Hendricks cried out and bucked and twisted under Evan flipping them both over. Evan ended up on his back with Hendricks on top of him.
He lost his grip on Hendricks' hair as Hendricks jerked his head forward sharply and then powered it backwards again smashing into Evan's nose and mouth. With the back of his head planted firmly on the floor Evan's face absorbed the whole force of the impact. Pain exploded as his nose broke for the second time in under a week. His top lip split open against his teeth and he tasted the metallic, coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He whipped his head to the side, but chose the wrong direction. Hendricks's second butt caught him right on his chewed ear as if it was laser-guided.
Evan reached round and jabbed his gritty thumb into Hendricks' eye, before he could do it again. Hendricks howled with pain as Evan dug in deeper feeling the eyeball slip under his thumb. He felt the skin in the corner of Hendricks' eye tear and hooked his thumb viciously to rip it open. Hendricks rammed his elbow backwards into Evan's ribs again and again. Evan grunted in pain as he heard something crack. His thumb slipped out of Hendricks' eye, his nail raking the torn flesh.
Hendricks rolled off him onto the floor. He lay on his belly, panting like a demented hound. Blood trickled from his eye, mixing with the dirt and grime that covered his face. Snot ran from his nose and thick drools of saliva dripped from his lips and ran down his chin. He let out a crazy scream and started to push himself up, shaking his head violently. Drops of blood and snot and saliva flew everywhere, his good eye glaring murderously at Evan.
Out of the corner of his eye Evan saw the bricks he'd thrown at Hendricks laying on the floor a few feet away. He rolled onto his front and lunged for them, his cracked ribs shrieking in protest. Hendricks saw him and grabbed hold of his shirt and tried to pull him back. Evan's nails clawed uselessly at the bricks. Hendricks hauled on Evan's shirt pulling himself up onto him and brought his elbow down into the middle of Evan's back. Evan grunted as the air erupted out of his lungs and Hendricks climbed further onto him.
Adamson's leg was only a foot away. Evan grabbed it with both hands and heaved, pulling himself forward an inch. He threw his arm out and got his fingers round the bricks. Hendricks lunged and clamped his hand round Evan's wrist. Evan could smell the rancid odor coming from his armpit inches from his face. He twisted his head to the side and sank his teeth into Hendricks' arm, biting down as hard as he could. Hendricks screamed and let go of Evan's wrist. Evan bit down harder and shook his head madly like a dog worrying a juicy bone.
He couldn't breathe with his mouth full of Hendricks' flesh and his nose broken. He held on as long as he could, then released his bite hold just as Hendricks jerked his arm savagely away. The sudden release sent him sprawling backwards off Evan onto his back. In one fluid motion Evan rolled over and brought his arm round in a wide arc. It should have smashed the heavy chunk of brickwork into the middle of Hendricks' face, but Hendricks turned his head to the side at the last second, the bricks barely grazing his head as they pounded into the floor.
Hendricks rolled away and scrambled onto his knees and dived for the discarded tool belt. He grabbed one of the chisels and turned as Evan slammed into him knocking him flat onto his back, the chisel falling out of his hand. Lying on top of him, Evan pushed himself up until he was sitting astride him. Hendricks scrabbled desperately to get a grip on the chisel again as Evan raised the bricks to smash them into his face.
Hendricks managed to catch hold of the chisel and slashed wildly. The razor sharp blade sliced through Evan’s forearm opening the flesh like a ripe melon splitting. The bricks spilled out of his hand as a stinging, red hot pain seared through his arm. He grabbed hold of Hendricks wrist with one hand and seized the fingers gripping the chisel with the other. He worked his fingers under Hendricks’ little finger and bent it back sharply, snapping it cleanly at the first knuckle.
Hendricks howled and dropped the chisel. Evan grabbed the bricks, raised them above his head with both hands ready to drive them into the middle of Hendricks’ face.
'No, please...' Hendricks whispered, unmistakeable, absolute terror in the eye Evan hadn't ravaged.
A strangled cry escaped Evan's lips. He imagined Robbie Clayton’s utter despair as he tried to comfort his son; to tell him that everything was going to be okay—they’d soon be out of here and home again, laughing in the bright sunlight. Imagined him holding the boy’s head against his chest, stroking his hair and running his hand down the back of his head; feeling the delicacy of his small neck in his hand, and thinking thoughts that no father should ever have to think. How long did he ignore the foul thing that now lived and grew in his mind; how long before he finally accepted what he’d known all along he’d have to do? How long before the boy’s pitiful crying became too much too bear, and he told himself it was kinder this way, he’d do it for an old dog that couldn’t walk any longer, for Christ’s sake, so why not his son? Evan saw him sitting where he still sat now after all these years, tears streaming down his face as he held the boy’s neck for the last time and tensed. Did his son feel him tense, feel something change in the way his fingers touched his skin? Did he perhaps try to look up into his face? Stretch out a hand and touch the rough stubble on his chin? Feel the wetness on his father’s cheek? Thank God for the merciful darkness that meant he didn’t have to see Daniel’s eyes searching his own. And thank God for sweet, ever-loving nothing as he closed his eyes, his jaw tightening, self-loathing washing down through his intestines and up through his throat as he gave a sudden, sharp twist of his hands and snapped his son’s neck like a dry twig. Evan heard the howl of anguish that climbed out of his mouth, like it had waited his whole life to do so, as he felt his son’s dying body twitch, his legs spasm and kick weakly against his own, felt an indecent wetness seep into his lap as he soiled himself. And Evan prayed with him to a merciless, nameless deity that had entered the world centuries before men’s flawed notions of a loving God, to take him now and still his tortured mind. All this Evan saw and felt in that heart-sickening moment between the ple— and the —ease of Hendricks’ shameful cry for mercy. He let out an inhuman shriek and drove the bricks down with all his might.
He heard a dreadful crunch as Hendricks' nose and cheekbone shattered and he felt teeth breaking under the impact. He drew in a huge breath and brought his arms up to deliver another crushing blow, but it was all over.
Hendricks lay underneath him, his face a bloody pulp, a dreadful keening sound escaping from between his broken teeth.
CHAPTER 44
Evan threw the bricks at the wall and climbed wearily to his feet, his head spinning and his legs barely able to hold him. His ankle gave way and he dropped onto his knees with a heavy thud. Bright red blood poured from the deep cut on his arm. He crawled over to where the shotgun lay. People made far too
much fuss about standing up anyway. He picked up the shotgun and carried on crawling over to the wall, then sat with his back against it and tried to recover.
The whole thing had taken less than a minute but he couldn't have told you what had happened. His mind was a blank. He looked over at Hendricks and was appalled at what he'd done. If Hendricks hadn't been such a murdering piece of shit, Evan might have thought he'd gone over the top.
He rested his head against the wall, his mouth hanging open, his breathing heavy and labored. The adrenaline comedown hit him like a freight train. His hands started to shake and a tide of nausea was rapidly overcoming him. His head ached terribly. He was acutely aware of his injuries as the adrenaline leached away and the gash on his arm wouldn’t stop bleeding.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply until he started to feel a little better, the nausea slowly subsiding. His legs still didn't feel as if they would support him so he sat a while longer, listening to Hendricks' wheezy breathing as it bubbled wetly through his bloody lips. Adamson hadn't made a sound and Evan wondered if Hendricks had killed him with his second savage blow.
He made another attempt at getting up; it was a lot easier this time, but it wasn’t what you’d call a walk in the park. He found the handcuffs where he'd dropped them at the bottom of the stairs and then cuffed Hendricks' wrist to the metal pole he'd been cuffed to earlier himself. He didn't need to worry about Adamson - he'd be lucky to come out of it with anything less than serious brain damage. That’s if there was a brain to damage in the first place, of course. Even if he did wake up his first priority would be getting even with Hendricks and good luck to him.
Evan collected up the sledgehammer and crowbar and all the other tools and dumped them in the tunnel. Then he locked the door and left the key in the lock so that nobody could unlock it from the other side, before heading upstairs into the house.
Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) Page 22