The Strangler's Daughter

by Amy Cross

  Her eyes are wide open, but the whites are filled with tiny red lines, as if some of the blood vessels have burst. There are more broken blood vessels around her eyes, and her mouth is partially open. Her face is deathly pale, and after a moment my gaze is drawn to the thick, bruise-like markings all around her neck. As I look at the markings, I try to work out whether I can determine the shape of a pair of hands, but after a few seconds I feel a sense of nausea start kicking me in the gut.

  My father did this.

  This is the face that stared up at him in that car park, as he strangled his latest victim.

  I scroll down further, and I see another shot of the woman's naked body on a metal slab. Her chest has been opened, and it would appear that the photo was taken while the autopsy was ongoing. I look at a few other pictures, which show close-ups of things like her chest cavity and her brain, and then I scroll back up and take another look at her face.

  Tabby is mewing on my lap.

  The woman's dead face stares at me from the screen.

  My father did this.

  I think back to the sight of him sitting at the table later that night, staring at his own hands. Was he shocked by his own strength? By what he'd done? I thought earlier that he was horrified by what he'd done, but now I know that it had been a lot less than ten years since his last murder. I think of the way he was slowly opening and closing his fists, and then I imagine his hands wrapping tight around Heather Ringfield's throat and squeezing.

  What kind of noise did she make?

  How hard was she able to fight back?

  And then, just as I'm about to close the browser window, I suddenly remember that Dad said he was going to the pub tonight. I was already a little nervous about that, but I feel a rush of panic as I realize that someone else said the same thing to me earlier.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ten years ago

  “I'm going to be away tonight,” Dad says, standing in my bedroom doorway. “I'll be staying overnight and I'll be back tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “It's business. A course. A conference. A conference course.”

  Staring at him, I feel a flicker of fear. Mum's funeral was only a couple of days ago, and now Dad says he's going off on one of his trips. I guess I should have expected that he'd go away like this eventually, but it never occurred to me that I'd be left alone so soon.

  “You'll be fine,” he says, as if he can read my mind. “I'll leave you some money and you can order takeout if you want. You've got books, you've got the TV. I'll be back tomorrow.”

  “But where exactly are you going?”

  “It's a little too far for me to make it back in one night. Try to understand, Lisa.”

  “But where are you going?”

  He sighs.

  “Manchester,” he says. “Okay?”

  I open my mouth to ask him to change his mind, but I hold back. It occurs to me that I could ask him to take me instead. I mean, I'd be fine staying in a hotel overnight. Then again, Dad's made his decision and I figure I shouldn't be some whiny little kid. I'm fifteen, I should be able to look after myself for one night.

  “No wild parties,” he adds, before chuckling. “As if. But seriously, just keep the front door shut. If you order pizza or something, try to order it a little earlier in the evening. Got it?”

  I still hate the idea, but after a moment I nod.

  “That's good,” he replies. “Something's come up and, well, I need to sort it out. I wouldn't be going if I wasn't absolutely certain that you'll be fine. Think of this as a chance to prove that you can be alone for the night. Not to me, but to yourself.” He pauses. “Any questions?”

  I think for a few seconds, and then I shake my head.

  “I'll be heading off in about an hour,” he adds, before turning and heading through to his room. “I just need to pack first.”

  Left sitting alone on my bed, I feel a flickering sense of fear in my chest. I want to rush through and beg Dad to change his mind, but I know that he'd just laugh at me. Besides, at my age I should be able to stay in the house alone for one night. Sure, I'll be scared, but I'll ignore that and find a way to push through, and this time tomorrow everything will be alright again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Today

  As soon as I step into the pub, I'm shocked by the smell of stale beer and cleaning products. I've rarely been in this place over the years, since I don't like to drink, and I'm momentarily stunned by the sound of so many people laughing and talking. Then, peering past the crowd, I spot Caitlin sitting alone at the far end of the bar.

  “Excuse me,” I say, squeezing past several people. “Sorry. Do you mind if I get by?”

  After a couple of minutes, I reach the other end of the room and I approach Caitlin. She's staring down at one of two half empty pint glasses that are resting on the bar, and it takes a several seconds before she turns to me.

  “Hey!” she says, with a broad grin. “I never expected to see you here!”

  “I never expected to come,” I reply, looking around but not seeing any sign of Dad. When I turn back to Caitlin, I realize that once again I've failed to come up with an excuse ahead of time. “I guess,” I continue cautiously, “I just wanted to get out of the house for a while.”

  “Well, park yourself here,” she replies, tapping one of the empty stools. “What can I get you? It's my last night in Forkworth, so your first drink's on me.”

  “Just Coke, please,” I say, as I awkwardly perch on the stool. I'm not used to sitting on these things.

  “Do you want a shot of whiskey with that?” she asks.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Come on, Lisa, live a little,” she continues, before turning to Michael. “Can you pop half a splash of something strong in there for her? Don't worry, she'll thank you for it later.”

  She reaches down the front of her shirt and pulls out a red stone that's hanging from a chain around her neck.

  “What do you think?” she asks eagerly. “It belonged to my, like, great great grandmother Elsa. It's real. Pretty, huh?”

  “So you're really going tomorrow?” I say cautiously. “That's quick.”

  “What's the point in sitting around and waiting?” she asks. “I'm scared that if I do that, I'll end up never leaving, and then I'll just end up like my aunt. No, I've got to strike while the iron's hot. This time tomorrow, I'll be in London.” She pauses. “It's kinda scary, but in a good way. But if you add me on Facebook and Twitter, you can see what I get up to. Hopefully it won't be a scary story about one woman's slide into poverty and failure.”

  I stare at her.

  “That was a joke,” she adds, nudging my knee. “But seriously, it'd be cool to keep in touch. So many people here in Forkworth are kind of creepy. There's this guy who keeps trying to talk to me, and he just doesn't get the hint that I'm not interested. He's been in the bathroom for a while, but hopefully when he comes back he'll see that I'm busy with someone else now.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but then I glance at the half empty pint glass next to my hand and I feel a flicker of concern. Surely it would be way too much of a coincidence if -

  “Here he is now,” she whispers.

  I turn, just in time to see Dad coming out from the bathroom. He looks around, as if he's worried about being spotted, and then he turns to come this way. And then, as soon as he sees me, he freezes in place with the most stunned expression on his face.

  I stare back at him, not daring to break his gaze, and for several seconds we remain like that, neither of us daring to make a move.

  Dad tilts his head slightly, and then he comes over.

  “Lisa,” he says, evidently feeling deeply uncomfortable and choosing his words with great care, “what a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  “I just came out,” I reply. “For a walk.”

  “Do you guys know each other?” Caitlin asks. “Wait, you look kinda similar. It's the eye
s.”

  “Caitlin,” Dad replies, “it would seem that you've already met my daughter, Lisa.” Each of those words seem to be forced out, as if he's really annoyed by my presence.

  “No way!” Caitlin gasps, and then I turn to see that she looks a little worried. “Um, that's cool.”

  “It certainly is,” Dad says, eyeing me with concern. “Lisa, I'm surprised that you wanted to leave the house at all this evening. I do hope that you haven't already become bored of your little cat.”

  “Tabby's in her crate,” I reply. “Don't worry, I've already done a lot of reading up about how to take care of her.”

  “I can't remember the last time I saw you in here,” he says. “Was it, perhaps, after your mother's funeral?”

  “Maybe,” I reply, feeling as if his stare is intended to warn me off, as if he's trying to use mind control to make me leave. “But,” I continue, “you know what they say. You have to get out and about sometimes, right? Otherwise you just end up in a rut.” I turn to Caitlin. “Isn't that right?”

  “Now you're getting into the spirit of things,” she says, as Michael brings over the Coke, which she immediately slides toward me.

  “Is that a soft drink, Lisa?” Dad asks.

  “I slipped her a dash of whiskey,” Caitlin explains with a grin.

  “Lisa doesn't drink alcohol,” he says calmly.

  “I'm sure she can afford to have a few sips,” Caitlin replies, as she hands some coins to Michael. “It's not even a full shot, it's kind of a half. You'd have to be completely, like, weak to get drunk on that. She'll be more affected by the sugar.”

  “Perhaps you'd like to order something else, Lisa,” Dad says.

  I look at the glass, and I briefly consider asking for a Coke that hasn't got anything added. Finally, however, I realize that maybe I should take some of Caitlin's advice. Dad so obviously doesn't want me to be here, but I don't really have a choice. If I leave, Caitlin might end up like the girl in those leaked photos, and I can't let that happen. She just has to survive one more night in Forkworth and then she'll be able to go to London, where she'll be safe. Well, relatively speaking, at least.

  “I'm fine with this,” I tell Dad, and I have to admit that I feel a flicker of something else in my chest, something totally alien. A kind of satisfaction, maybe. “It's only one drink.”

  He stares at me, before glancing toward the far end of the bar.

  “A booth appears to have come free,” he says, turning first to Caitlin and then to me. “Should we perhaps go and take it?”

  “Sounds like fun to me,” Caitlin says as she slides off her stool. “These things make my butt hurt after a while.”

  Dad takes his drink and leads us over. As we follow, Caitlin holds back a little and leans close to my right ear.

  “I'm so sorry about saying he was creepy earlier,” she whispers. “Please don't be offended. I didn't really mean it, I was just being an idiot.”

  “No, it's fine,” I reply, keeping my voice low as we get closer to Dad, who has a face like thunder as he settles into the booth. “You might actually be right.”

  Chapter Forty

  Ten years ago

  The house is so quiet.

  Standing in the hallway, I listen to the utter, suffocating silence. Dad left a short while ago, and already darkness is falling outside. I honestly can't remember the last time I was truly alone. Somehow, Mum and Dad have always been around in the past, and I'm really struggling to make sure that I don't panic.

  “Look at you,” Dad said when he left. “My little girl, all grown up. Just watch something on TV, get to bed at a reasonable hour, and it'll be morning before you know it. I should be back at lunchtime.”

  He kissed the top of my head, and then he walked away.

  I guess he's on the motorway now, heading toward Manchester. I imagine him driving along, and I wonder whether he's forgotten all about me. He's probably going to meet some friends later, and I'm sure he'll have a great time. I never thought to ask him whether he was going to call later, but now I'm starting to wonder whether he might just get caught up in everything and forget. I shouldn't care about that, but I do.

  Still, I suppose I should make the most of this opportunity. I'm alone, with no prospect of being interrupted, for the first time in my life. There has to be something I can do to pass the time.

  ***

  Holding my breath in anticipation, I gently move my fingertip closer to the keyhole. With my other hand, I turn the rod, and then I slide it gently into the lock and give it a twist.

  Nothing.

  I try again, but I still can't get Dad's secret cabinet to open. I try yet again, and this time I let out a murmur of frustration. I've never tried picking a lock before, so I figured this wouldn't be easy, but I've seen plenty of films where people do this. Setting the rod down, I take a hair-clip and try inserting that into the gap, and then I twiddle it around in every possible direction.

  To be honest, I don't even know how locks work.

  I'm on my knees in Dad's bedroom, and I've been working on the lock for at least an hour now. I brought up a tray of items that I thought might help, including scissors and tweezers and a nail-file and even a magnet. Nothing's worked, and I'm fresh out of ideas. As I sit back and stare at the cabinet, I try to think of something else I can try, but in all honesty I think I'm just not smart enough.

  Unless...

  Suddenly I hear the phone ringing downstairs. I freeze, worried about who might be calling, but then I realize that it's late and Dad might be trying to get through. I scramble to my feet and race down, and I'm already a little breathless by the time I answer.

  “Hello?” I gasp.

  “Lisa?” Dad says on the other end of the line. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing!”

  I flinch as I realize that I must sound totally crazy and suspicious.

  “Okay,” he says cautiously, “have you eaten yet?”

  “No,” I reply, before glancing at the clock and realizing that it's almost 8pm. “I'm going to order something right now.”

  “You really need to make sure that you look after yourself, Lisa,” he says. “Where are you going to order from?”

  “The pizza place.”

  “Do that as soon as this call is over, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Is everything else good? No dramas?”

  “I'm fine,” I reply, and now I think I sound a little more normal and unflustered. “I've just been watching some stuff on TV, that's all. I guess I got a little sucked into it.”

  “That's not hard to believe. There's no -”

  Before he can finish, there's the sound of someone shouting in the distance.

  “Where are you?” I ask Dad. “Aren't you in a hotel room?”

  “I'm in the car,” he replies. “I just arrived at the hotel and I thought I'd call you before I check in. The drive up here took longer than I expected.”

  “What time's your conference?”

  “That's in the morning, before I leave.”

  “Oh.” I think about that, and I have to admit that I don't understand why Dad drove so far for something that seems like it's going to be so short. “Okay.”

  “So you're sure that everything's going well?” he asks. “If you're doing anything you shouldn't be doing, Lisa, now's the time to confess.”

  I freeze, as I start to wonder whether he might have cameras hidden around the house. Has he been watching me this whole time? I briefly consider telling him that I tried to break into the cabinet, but then I tell myself that hopefully I'm just panicking over nothing. I mean, if he had cameras, I'd know. Wouldn't I?

  “Lisa?”

  “I'm not doing anything!” I blurt out. “I swear!”

  I wait, worried that I've dropped myself into a whole heap of trouble. And then, just as I'm trying to think of an excuse, I hear Dad start chuckling.

  “Alright, honey,” he says, “I believe you. And now, if you don't m
ind, I have to get going. Things to do. I'll see you in the morning.”

  “Isn't your conference in the morning?”

  He pauses.

  “I should be back in the afternoon,” he tells me, correcting himself. Which is it? Morning or afternoon?. “Now make sure you order that pizza, and don't stay up too late. Two more films maximum, and then bed. Is that understood?”

  “Of course,” I reply, and then I hear him cut the call.

  Turning, I rush back upstairs, desperate to clear away all the evidence that I was ever in his room tonight. The last thing I want is for Dad to ever think that he can't trust me.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Today

  “So, Lisa,” Dad says, his voice sounding clipped and tense as the three of us sit in the booth, “you never told me that you and Caitlin had become friends.”

  “Didn't I?” I reply, meeting his gaze and refusing to look away. “It must have slipped my mind.”

  “We only met a couple of days ago, really,” Caitlin says, and it's clear that she's picked up on the strange atmosphere. “Of course, it's just my bad luck that I meet someone cool just before I move to London, but I've already told Lisa that she totally has to come and visit me once I'm set up.”

  “Is that right, Lisa?” Dad asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you planning a trip to London?”

  “I don't see why not,” I reply, even though I know that the idea is utterly ludicrous. “I mean... eventually. One day.”

  “Lisa doesn't like cities or crowds,” Dad tells Caitlin. “She never has. I'm not sure she'd do very well on a visit?”

  “She'll be fine with me to show her around,” Caitlin says with a grin.

  “Are you sure your cat is fine alone?” Dad asks me, before turning to Caitlin. “I don't know whether or not Lisa's told you, but I bought her a kitten as a present.”

  “Oh, how cute!” Caitlin replies, sounding genuinely happy. “I'm gonna get a pet once I'm on my feet in London. I don't know what, yet.”

  “Lisa got her cat today,” Dad explains, glancing at me. “I thought it would occupy her time a little, but evidently she's not that into it.”