The Christmas Killer

by Alex Pine

  James wasn’t that put out though, because he really didn’t feel like socialising.

  Annie had spent the entire day indoors so she was pleased to see James when he arrived home. She told him that Bill had popped in during the afternoon and they had watched a film together on Netflix.

  ‘He’s still determined to spend Christmas with us, even if his car is repaired before then,’ she said. ‘And I made it clear to him that we won’t let him leave unless we know it’s perfectly safe to do so.’

  Annie had prepared lasagne for dinner and they took their time eating it. But neither of them found it possible to relax. James’s mind kept drifting to the investigation and Annie was too restless and edgy to concentrate on anything he said.

  When he told her that he was sure they would find the killer soon, she suddenly turned on him.

  ‘Don’t take me for a bloody fool,’ she snapped. ‘I know that’s not true and I don’t appreciate being lied to by you.’

  Her eyes challenged him for a moment, and then tears sprang up in them and she broke down.

  To James, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. He had noticed how she’d been struggling to deal with the pressure and the constant flow of appalling news.

  He got up and went to her and he held her in his arms until she stopped crying. She then apologised for snapping at him but he told her that he perfectly understood.

  ‘We’re all feeling the strain of this,’ he said. ‘You more than most, Annie, because you had a connection with all three victims.’

  Annie was in no mood for conversation after that so she went up to bed by herself again. It was still too early for James to go with her so he poured himself a large whiskey and took it into the study.

  Once again, he pored over all his notes, along with the forensic findings. He studied the photos of the crime scenes and reports filed by the other officers who had interviewed neighbours and friends of the victims.

  He then decided it was time to do what he’d said he’d do, which was to go through Lorna Manning’s diaries.

  He worked backwards from the current year, but it wasn’t until he got to the one dated two years ago that he came across something that triggered a snap of electricity in his brain.

  It was an entry during the month of September, and Lorna had noted down that she’d told someone about the hit-and-run secret that had tainted her life.

  That in itself didn’t come as a great surprise to James. What did cause his heart to jump was the name of the person she’d told. Father Thomas Silver.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Finally summoned up the courage to go to confession and tell Father Silver what I did to that poor girl and to explain why I didn’t go to the police. I received the priest’s absolution, but forgiveness is not enough to make me feel better.

  The entry in Lorna Manning’s diary contradicted what Father Silver had told James. The priest had insisted he knew of no reason why Lorna had often appeared depressed. James could even recall some of his exact words: ‘I tried a number of times to get her to open up, but she wouldn’t.’

  James was well aware that one of the cornerstones of the Catholic faith is that nothing said in confession can ever be disclosed. Priests are not allowed to break the Seal of the Confessional even after the penitent has died or has confessed to a serious crime, including murder. Priests who do so face excommunication from the Catholic Church.

  Father Silver had therefore chosen not to break the Seal in respect of Lorna Manning’s confession. But it struck James as odd that he had said he’d tried to get Lorna to open up. He’d volunteered that piece of information and it hadn’t been necessary. So why had he felt compelled to say it?

  However, that was only one of the many questions that had sprung up in James’s mind. He was now wondering if it was actually possible that the killer had also been to confession at St John’s Church, and that Father Silver knew far more about what was happening than he was letting on.

  James was aware that he was clutching at straws here, but his sixth sense was telling him that this was something worth pursuing. And the more he thought about it, the faster his heart pounded in his chest.

  He didn’t know Father Silver very well, but he had always come across as an honest and open man, a man who had been a pillar of the community for years. But now he had terminal cancer and would soon depart this world. Was he therefore intent on taking a terrible secret to his grave rather than break the Seal of the Confessional?

  James decided he would pay him a visit first thing in the morning. He’d confront him with the entry in Lorna’s diary and ask him outright why he’d said that he had tried to get Lorna to open up. He would also ask him if he was keeping any other secrets that were relevant to the investigation.

  It would be up to the priest to convince him that he wasn’t. But if James sensed that he was lying, he would do whatever it took to break down the older man’s resolve. It wouldn’t be easy, of course, but it was necessary.

  He wrote down some notes and while doing so he checked the time. It had only just turned 10 p.m.

  Why wait until morning? He suddenly asked himself. I won’t be able to sleep anyway, with this playing on my mind.

  Without giving it any further thought, he went upstairs to see if Annie was still awake, but she wasn’t. And he saw no need to disturb her.

  Back downstairs, he put on his coat and boots, and picked up his keys, his phone and Lorna’s diary.

  Then he let himself out of the house and headed for the rectory in the hope that Father Silver was still up and would be willing to answer some questions.

  The evening was dark and oppressive. It was still blowing a gale, but the snow was less heavy.

  James huffed out clouds of breath as he trudged through the village. There was no one else on the streets and he was disappointed not to spot a uniformed officer or patrol car.

  It took him ten minutes to reach the rectory and when he got there he saw that there were no lights on inside. He thought briefly about turning back, but then decided not to and rang the doorbell. Once, twice, three times.

  Nobody answered and he recalled what Father Silver had said about being a heavy sleeper. Or perhaps he was afraid to come to the door so late in the evening. James looked up at the windows, but none of the curtains moved.

  He turned around to retrace his steps along the path and that was when he noticed that his weren’t the only footprints in the snow. There was another set leading away from the front door and out onto the road. The fact that they hadn’t already been covered by the snow surely meant that they hadn’t been there very long.

  James saw that the prints crossed the road in the direction of the church. Did they belong to the priest? he asked himself. Or had someone else left the rectory shortly before James arrived?

  Panic seized his chest suddenly as he realised that he might well be following the tracks of the killer. Had the priest become victim number four? Was he now lying dead in his own home as the killer made off into the night?

  It was a startling possibility and one that James decided he could not ignore. He broke into a run and followed the footprints, which led him along the pavement and through the gate into the churchyard. From there, they went all the way up to the church entrance.

  James’s stomach was pitching and rolling as he hurried along the path and into the front porch, where the footprints ended. He pushed at the heavy door and to his surprise it opened.

  He stepped inside the church and felt the darkness close in around him. But there was a glimmer of light at the far end, to the right of the altar. James recalled that that was where Father Silver’s office was situated.

  As he walked slowly between the pews, somewhere inside a voice berated him for going it alone. He should have called on one of the officers in the village to come in here with him. But it was too late now. He had already reached the office and he could see that the door was ajar and the light he’d glimpsed was coming from inside.

&n
bsp; He held his breath and eased it open, ready to defend himself if he came under attack.

  But he didn’t. The room wasn’t empty, though. A man wearing a black polo sweater and loose grey trousers was standing in front of the desk with his back to the door. James was about to say something when the man spun around. At once, relief flooded through James when he saw that it was Father Silver.

  The priest almost jumped out of his skin, and his mouth gaped open.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Father,’ James said, stepping farther into the room. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  It took the priest a couple of beats to recover.

  ‘Why are you here?’ he said, his voice shaky.

  ‘I went to the rectory to have a word with you. When there was no answer, I was about to leave but then saw footprints in the snow and I feared – thankfully wrongly, as it turns out – that the killer might have paid you a visit. So, I followed the footprints and they led me here. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.’

  The priest appeared lost for words as he stood there staring at James whilst hauling in ragged gasps of air.

  ‘Are you okay, Father?’ James said.

  The priest swallowed. ‘I am now. You just gave me a shock. So why is it you felt the need to come and see me so late in the day?’

  James took Lorna Manning’s diary from his pocket and held it up.

  ‘You told me that you had no idea why Lorna Manning was always showing signs of depression. You said you’d tried to get her to open up.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘But this is her diary and just eighteen months ago she wrote that she went to you and confessed to killing that young woman with her car. Which means that you did know what was ailing her.’

  ‘I am not at liberty to disclose what someone reveals to me in a confessional booth. You should know that, Detective.’

  James moved towards him to hand him the diary. But as he did so the priest’s eyes shifted sharply to the left. James instinctively followed their line of sight and saw an overcoat resting on one of the chairs. Lying on top was what looked like a large ornamental dagger.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ James blurted, pointing to it.

  The priest cleared his throat. ‘That, sir, is a genuine Knights Templar dagger. The Templars, as you may know, were once a powerful Catholic military order. Their relics are much sought after by collectors.’

  The sight of the dagger unsettled James. It seemed out of place in the office. A frown tugged his eyebrows together and the air suddenly felt heavy around him.

  He turned back to the priest and said, ‘So why are you here, Father? Shouldn’t you be in bed?’

  ‘There was something I needed to finish.’

  The priest licked his lips nervously and started blinking fast. James knew then that something wasn’t right and a jolt of adrenaline spiked through him.

  The priest then moved his body abruptly to one side, as though in an attempt to conceal something on the desk. It was so obvious that James couldn’t let it pass.

  ‘If I may say so, you’re acting very suspiciously, Father. Is something the matter?’

  The priest shook his head. ‘Of course not. I’m just busy and I need to get on with what I was doing.’

  James decided it was time to stop arsing around. He needed to find out why Father Silver was acting like this. He took another step forward and gently pushed the man out of the way with his elbow.

  And he saw straight away what the priest was trying to hide. On top of the desk was a pack of cards with the Twelve Days of Christmas design. And next to them was a black marker.

  James felt his lungs empty as it dawned on him what was going on. And he couldn’t fucking believe it.

  But as he turned, he glimpsed the priest’s right arm swinging towards him, an object clasped in the hand. He had no time to react as it smashed into his left temple and sent him sprawling onto the floor.

  Before the lights in his head went out, the priest stood over him and said, ‘You are not one of the sinners, Detective Walker, so I won’t kill you because you don’t deserve to die. But because of what you now know, I must bring my mission to an end. After tonight, I will bow out gracefully.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  In the dream Annie is holding a baby in her arms. Her and James’s baby.

  His name is Lucas and he’s only three weeks old. But already he’s the centre of their universe. Everything revolves around their little bundle of joy.

  They have to feed him, wind him, change him, rock him to sleep. And they’re both loving every minute of it because they never thought it would happen. But it did, and Annie can’t believe that she’s at last been blessed.

  Eventually they’ll try for another because she’s always wanted two kids – the perfect sized family – and she doesn’t care if it’s a girl or another boy, as long as it’s healthy.

  She can see the smile on her own face, the pride in her eyes, the sheer contentment coming off her in waves.

  So when the image suddenly fades, as it always does, she hears herself cry out.

  That’s when she realises that it wasn’t real. It was all in her head. Again. A version of the same dream she’s had many times before. As always, it woke her up and now she could feel her body shaking and the tears stinging her eyes.

  She turned on her side to seek comfort from the warmth of James’s body – only to find that he wasn’t in bed with her. She figured he was still in his study trying to work out how to find the killer terrorising the village.

  A sob swelled up inside her and she swallowed it down. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Best she got up, had a drink of something and popped a pill.

  She threw back the duvet and hauled herself out of bed. She put on her dressing gown and slippers in the dark and stepped out of the room.

  The light from the living room reached up the stairs so she didn’t bother to turn any more on. Once downstairs, she went first to the kitchen to put the kettle on and then to the study to see if James wanted a tea or coffee.

  But he wasn’t at his desk, which put a frown on her face. She checked the downstairs loo and then the hallway, but there was no sign of him. While in the hallway she noticed that his coat wasn’t hanging up and his boots weren’t on the floor next to the cupboard. She assumed he’d been called out and hadn’t wanted to wake her up. It was something he’d done before so it didn’t worry her.

  She returned to the kitchen, poured herself some tea and took a sleeping pill.

  Back in the living room she sat on the sofa to drink it. She was still there ten minutes later when she heard the front door open and close.

  ‘No need to sneak around, James,’ she called out. ‘I’m down here and wide awake.’

  A moment later the living room door was pushed open. Annie stood and prepared to greet her husband with a big welcoming smile and a hug.

  But it wasn’t James who entered the room. It was Father Silver. And in his right hand he was holding a large knife.

  The smile vanished from Annie’s face and a cold fear hardened in the centre of her stomach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  When James regained consciousness the pain in his head made him wince. It felt like his brain had exploded and hadn’t yet been put back together.

  It took a few seconds for him to remember where he was and what had happened. As he struggled to his feet, he almost passed out again and had to lean against the priest’s desk to stop himself keeling over.

  That was when he spotted the Christmas cards and the black marker. He turned instinctively towards the chair on which had rested the overcoat and knife. But they were both gone.

  The priest’s words rang in his ears.

  After tonight, I will bow out.

  ‘Shit,’ James said aloud as the magnitude of the situation hit him.

  Father Silver had been playing them all along. He was the killer, the monster who had taken the lives of three people in the villag
e.

  But what the hell was he planning to do tonight?

  James reached into his inside pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. When he checked his other pockets, he made another terrifying discovery. The keys to his house were also missing.

  It was obvious to James that the bastard had taken them. But did that mean he was now heading for the house? And Annie?

  Panicked, he hurried across the room and grabbed the door handle. But the door wouldn’t open. It was locked from the outside.

  James looked at the window behind the desk and reckoned it would be easier to smash that than break down the door. As he searched for something to use, his boot collided with an object on the floor. It was a glass paperweight in the shape of a heart. When James picked it up, he saw that it was smeared with blood. His blood. It was the weapon the priest had used to knock him out.

  He threw it at the window and the glass shattered, but he had to use a small statue of Christ on the cross to make an opening big enough for him to climb through.

  Once outside, he started running for home whilst praying that he would reach Annie before she came to any harm.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  Annie was unable to move. She was so stricken with terror that she couldn’t even scream as Father Silver stepped across the room towards her.

  ‘The others didn’t see me coming, Annie,’ he said. ‘So, in that sense, you’re lucky. You’ll know why you have to die.’

  Annie’s eyes shifted back to the knife in his hand. It was long and shiny and looked like a weapon from a bygone era.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I’ve let your husband live,’ the priest said. ‘You see, I can’t be sure that he’s a sinner. Unlike you.’

  Annie wanted to believe that she was still in bed and that her dream had turned into a vivid nightmare. But she knew she was awake and that it was really happening.