by Alex Lake
And then he’d fuck her a few times, each time rougher than before. Maybe he’d tie her up. Hurt her. He’d see how far he could push it. Cigarette burns on the soles of her feet? Razor cuts on her inner thighs? He thought he’d be able to push it quite a long way, especially if he told her he loved her, sprinkled some hope in with the misery. She’d let him, though, he could see that. She had the look. She was the type who liked to please, who thought that if they didn’t then they’d lose their man.
Then he’d dump her. Tell her to fuck off back to her café and find some other peasant to marry. Watching her realize she’d let him do all that for nothing would be the best part of it all.
But all that was in the future. The future he could only have once he was rid of Claire.
The waitress walked over to him, order pad in her hand. As she reached the table, his phone rang.
It was Claire.
He turned it over so the screen was face down. She’d have woken up and panicked because he wasn’t there, but she’d find the note. That would have to do. He didn’t want to speak to her. It would destroy his peace of mind. He’d tell her he’d been paying for the milk and must have missed it.
‘Coffee, please,’ he said. ‘Double espresso.’ He smiled at her. ‘Been that kind of day.’
‘Me too,’ she said.
‘Nearly done?’
‘I finish at five.’
‘Then home to relax,’ Alfie said. ‘Put your feet up in front of the telly. You deserve it.’
This was the moment he could have said Why not go for a drink with me? She would have nodded, and said Why not? He could see in her eyes that she was almost expecting it, but he said nothing. He’d save that for later. For afterwards.
As she walked away, his phone rang, again.
He turned it over. It was Claire, of course it was. Stupid bitch. Why couldn’t she leave him alone, for a few minutes? But he had to answer. He couldn’t ignore her twice. She’d whine at him for the next week.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Where are you?’ She sounded tense. More than tense. Frightened. He straightened in his seat.
‘Getting milk. I left a note. Is everything OK?’
‘How soon can you be back?’
‘Ten minutes. What’s going on?’
There was silence, at first. When she spoke, her voice was a terrified whimper.
‘He’s here,’ she said. ‘Henry Bryant. He’s here.’
iii
Alfie put a ten-pound note on the table – it was the smallest denomination he had, which made this an expensive coffee not to drink – and started to run down the street. A black cab was approaching him, For Hire light on, and he stuck out his hand. The cab stopped and he climbed in and gave the address.
They turned into his street a few minutes later. He was perched on the edge of the seat, staring out of the window, his mouth dry. There was already a police car outside his house.
‘Up there,’ he said. ‘By the cops.’
‘Everything all right?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘I think so. My wife’s home alone. She called and said she saw an intruder.’
‘Bloody hell,’ the taxi driver said. ‘Country’s a mess. At least the rozzers are here early.’
‘Yes.’ Alfie handed him another ten-pound note. ‘Keep the change.’
Then he opened the door and stepped on to the pavement.
In the house, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table. There were two PCs in the room. One, a man, was standing by the kitchen door; the other, a woman, was sitting opposite her.
‘Claire,’ Alfie said, ‘what happened?’
She looked at him, her cheeks stained with tears. ‘He was here,’ she said. ‘He was here.’
‘Where exactly?’
She pointed to the window. ‘In the garden. I was filling the kettle and I saw him.’
‘Where in the garden?’ Alfie asked.
‘Outside the window. Right there outside the window.’ Her eyes were wide and there was a high-pitched, almost hysterical tone in her voice. ‘He’s coming for me. He’s coming to take me away again.’
Alfie looked at the officer sitting opposite Claire. ‘Did you see him?’
She shook her head. ‘We arrived quite soon after your wife called. We were in the area – and this address has priority – but there was no one here by the time we showed up.’
Her colleague gestured at the garden. ‘I had a walk around. It’s empty. He must have left. Probably via the back gate.’
Claire was shaking. ‘When I saw him, I screamed and ran out of the kitchen. I wanted to be as far from him as possible. I called you, then, when you didn’t answer, I called the police. I made sure the front door was locked and then sat on the stairs.’ She gave a thin smile ‘I had one of your golf clubs in my hand.’
‘You must have been terrified,’ Alfie said. ‘I’m so sorry. I should never have left you.’
‘It’s fine,’ Claire said. ‘You weren’t to know.’
Alfie gestured at the back garden. ‘Are there any signs of him out there?’
The male officer nodded. ‘There are marks on the lawn leading to the back gate from the house – see, the grass is flattened—’
‘That was me,’ Alfie said. ‘I went out that way this morning.’
‘Oh.’ The officer’s face fell. ‘Well, I didn’t see anything else.’
‘We’ll talk to the neighbours,’ the female officer said. ‘Ask if they saw anything.’ She shrugged. ‘But there’s not a lot more we can do.’
‘OK,’ Alfie said. ‘Do you know Detective Inspector Wynne?’
‘Yes, I do,’ the female officer said.
‘Good. She’s been working on a case involving my wife. She can give you details. But I think she would want to hear about this. Would you mind informing her?’
‘Oh, we’re aware of the case. We informed DI Wynne as soon as the call came in from dispatch.’
DI Wynne and DS Lawless were at the house within an hour.
‘So,’ Wynne said, ‘Henry Bryant was here?’
Claire nodded. ‘At the kitchen window.’
‘Did he say anything? Make any gesture?’ DS Lawless said.
Claire shook her head. ‘He just stared at me.’
‘Was he there when you entered the kitchen?’ DI Wynne asked.
‘No. I would have seen. I was making coffee and when I went to the sink I noticed him. He must have been watching as I came in, and then moved to where I could see him. To shock me.’
DI Wynne nodded. ‘And then you ran away?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when you came back he was gone?’
‘I sat on the stairs. When the two police officers came he was gone. But I think he left right after I saw him.’
DI Wynne tapped her pen on her pad thoughtfully. ‘And he didn’t try to enter the house?’
‘No,’ Claire said. ‘I heard nothing. I think he wanted to scare me. To show me he knows where I am.’
‘That’ll be it,’ Alfie said. ‘He wanted to scare Claire. He waited until I was gone. Which means he was watching us.’
‘Why do you think that?’ DS Lawless said, ignoring Alfie. ‘Did he give any indication to that effect?’
‘No,’ Claire said. ‘But that was the feeling I got.’
‘Well,’ DI Wynne said, ‘it makes sense, in a way. It’s still a big risk for him to take, though. I don’t know what he gets out of it, other than alerting you to his presence.’
Claire looked at Alfie. ‘My God,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe this. He’s back. He’s coming for me!’
‘I don’t think we should draw any conclusions,’ DI Wynne said. ‘He may be thinking something else entirely.’
‘Who knows what that kind of sick bastard thinks?’ Alfie said. ‘He’s not like us. He’s not normal.’
‘No,’ DI Wynne said. ‘That he almost certainly isn’t.’
‘Did your officers talk to
the neighbours?’ Claire asked.
‘They did,’ DS Lawless replied. ‘No one saw anything. A few weren’t home, so maybe one of them will have something to report. DI Wynne and I will also talk to them. We’ll see if there’s anything more.’
‘So what can we do?’ Alfie said.
‘I’m afraid,’ DI Wynne said, ‘there are not a lot of options, other than to keep looking for Henry Bryant, whoever he is.’
Alfie nodded. Who Henry Bryant was, was one question, but it wasn’t what troubled Alfie the most. What he didn’t understand was why Bryant was still around.
Was it Claire? Did he still have ideas of abducting her? Or was it something else, something Alfie could not even imagine?
He didn’t know, but whatever it was, Bryant clearly had unfinished business.
Tuesday
i
Alfie put a slice of half-eaten toast on his plate and pushed it away. Claire was in the front room, sitting on the cushions in the bay window. It was her favourite place to read. He’d had the cushions made for their wedding anniversary.
He couldn’t read; he could barely eat. He was too distracted. He kept turning things over in his mind, examining them from every angle, hoping something new would come up.
But nothing did.
He had been convinced someone had stolen Bryant’s identity and then stumbled on Claire’s profile. But why turn up at the house? It was madness. The risk of getting caught was too high.
Unless, Alfie thought, he hadn’t come to the house. Maybe Claire was imagining it.
He picked up the toast and took a small bite. It tasted like ashes. She could be imagining it. He was no medical expert, but it seemed possible the trauma may have left her in shock, which could be manifesting in this way. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Which left him with the original theory: someone had used Bryant’s profile, abducted Claire, and was now out there looking for someone else to prey on.
Which, frankly, was none of Alfie’s concern. He was simply glad the guy was off the scene.
He was interrupted by a loud crash.
It came from the front room.
Claire was sitting at the window, staring across the street. On the floor beside her was a teapot, brown liquid pooling around it.
‘Claire?’ Alfie said, breathless. ‘What is it?’
‘Bryant,’ she replied. ‘He’s here.’
Alfie started. ‘Where?’
‘Outside.’ She nodded towards the street. ‘Right there.’
Alfie walked across the room and stood behind her.
And there he was.
Standing on the opposite side of the road, in dark jeans, white Adidas shoes and a maroon hoodie, his face obscured by the hood. He was wearing a backpack, and had a phone in his hand. He was Alfie’s height, but thinner. It was hard to tell his age. At Alfie’s appearance, he stiffened.
‘The fucking bastard,’ Alfie said. ‘Call the cops, and wait here. I’m going after him.’
This was his chance to end this. He turned and ran out of the front room into the hall. The front door was deadlocked and it took him a few seconds to open it. When he did, Bryant was already at the end of the street, turning left towards the main road.
Alfie set off after him. As he turned left he caught a glimpse of Bryant – of something maroon, at any rate – running through the gates of the park. He was quick; the gap between him and Alfie was wider now.
Alfie slowed, then stopped. Chasing him was pointless. Bryant was faster, and once he was in the park there were any number of routes he could have taken.
He turned and headed back to the house, disappointed to have lost his quarry.
That, though, was not the worst thing.
The worst thing was that he now knew Bryant was not a figment of Claire’s imagination.
Bryant was real.
ii
Mick sat on the sofa, a tumbler of whisky in his huge hands. DI Wynne and DS Lawless had gone, ready to circulate a description of Bryant.
‘That bastard,’ he muttered. ‘He came here?’
Claire nodded. ‘I can’t believe it. I thought this was over, but he wants more. He won’t leave me alone.’ She blinked away her tears. ‘The worst thing is how personal it feels. I mean, I know it was my own stupid fault for meeting him in the first place, but I thought I was just unlucky. Now I’m wondering if he was specifically targeting me all along.’
‘How?’ Mick said. ‘How would he even know you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Claire said. ‘But the fact he came back after all this means there’s something more that he wants. Something about me.’
Alfie listened. He too had a glass of whisky, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to eat or drink anything. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what Henry Bryant was up to, and it made him feel sick.
‘He’s twisted,’ Mick said. ‘That’s all. You got away and he can’t stand it. But he’s making a bloody big mistake if he thinks he’s going to get close to you again. Because if he keeps on sniffing about here I’ll eventually get my hands on him, and after I’ve finished with him he’s going to wish he’d been caught by the cops and locked up with all the other murderers and kiddie fiddlers. It’ll be the safest place for him.’
‘I hope so,’ Alfie said. ‘I hope that’s what happens.’
‘In the meantime,’ Mick said, ‘I’ve arranged for some security. They’ll be here tomorrow. Two guards, twenty-four seven. You want them inside the house or parked in the street?’
Alfie didn’t really want them at all, but he couldn’t say that. He looked at Claire and raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ll leave it up to you,’ he said.
‘I think outside,’ Claire said. ‘I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of having them in the house.’
‘Fine,’ Mick said. ‘I’ll pass that on. They’ll have cell phones with them so all you have to do is call and they’ll be inside immediately.’ He looked at his watch. ‘My bedtime,’ he said. ‘I’ll head home. Call if you need anything at all, OK?’ He held his arms out and hugged her. ‘See you tomorrow, petal.’
Alfie and Claire went to bed not long after Mick left. Claire took a sleeping pill and was asleep soon after they pulled on the covers. Next to him, she breathed slow, shallow breaths. He watched her chest rise and fall. From time to time she started, but she slept well, considering the situation.
Not so for him. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop the whirring of his mind.
Bryant had shown up at the house. What the fuck was he thinking? If he wanted to meet women in secret so he could kidnap and kill them, that was one thing, but stalking one after she had escaped? It was insane. He was asking to get caught, and to what end? It would be far easier to move on to his next victim.
So, unless he was either stupid or mad, both of which Alfie doubted, he was targeting Claire. Specifically – to use her word – Claire.
But why? Alfie felt the panic rise again. He wasn’t scared of Bryant; he wasn’t scared of anything. He trusted that he would be able to deal with any situation, mainly because he would do whatever needed to be done without hesitation, like with Pippa. Most people were not able to do that, they were constrained by thoughts of morality or other bullshit, which gave him a huge advantage.
Plus, he knew what people wanted, most of the time: Pippa wanted a boyfriend, Claire wanted a husband and kids, Mick wanted to feel powerful and in charge, and if you gave them what they wanted they were happy. If you didn’t, though, it could mess everything up, which was the problem with Claire; she was so obsessed with having a fucking baby she’d ruined their marriage. If only she’d accepted they were not going to be parents, he would not have been forced to try and get rid of her, and there would be no Henry Bryant. It was all, when you thought about it, her fault, like it was Pippa’s fault he’d had to kill her. She’d got too needy, made herself a problem.
And Alfie knew how to solve his problems.
But not this one
. The issue with this one was that he didn’t know who Bryant was or what he wanted, and that left him unsettled and, in the quiet of the night, close to panic.
He needed Bryant to reveal himself. If he was after Claire, he could have her. That would help Alfie. If it was something else – well, Alfie would decide whether it was acceptable. If it was, good. If not – Bryant would have to go.
Either way, Alfie would have to put this to bed.
Early Wednesday Morning
i
Alfie became slowly aware that Claire was tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he opened his eyes and, from the look of the window it was the middle of the night.
‘Alfie,’ she was saying. ‘Alfie, wake up.’ She was sitting up, looking at him, her face wan.
‘What is it?’ he said.
‘He’s here again,’ she whispered. ‘This time in the house.’
Alfie blinked. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘I heard him downstairs.’
He listened. There were the creaks and clicks of a house at night, but nothing else.
‘What did you hear?’ Alfie said.
‘A door closing. It sounded like the door of the front room. He’s here,’ Claire said. ‘He’s in the front room, hiding. Waiting for us. For me. He’s in our house, Alfie.’ She stared at him, her eyes wide and her face flushed, almost feverish. ‘We can catch him,’ she whispered. ‘There’s two of us.’
‘Don’t you think we should call the police?’ Alfie said.
She shook her head. ‘He’ll run away. Let’s get him now. You have your golf clubs in the hall. We can take one each.’