by Simon King
“I’m sorry about Tami, I really am. She threatened me, threatened to end my research. I didn’t want to hurt her, I truly didn’t. But Harry asked to finish what he had started the first time and threatened to expose me if I didn’t help,” he paused.
“And? If he did expose you?” I asked, but he either chose to ignore me or didn’t hear my question.
“And he promised me it would be quick and painless. I’m sorry, I know I was blinded.” He suddenly reached into one of his jacket pockets, feeling around. For a moment, I panicked, expecting to see a gun or something, but then saw him pull a small black book with a leather strap and metal clasp out of his pocket, instead. He held it out to me as he coughed again, the blood now thick and spraying almost fountain-like from his lips. I pulled away a little, shielding my face. He held the book up to me, holding it out. “I need you to have this, Jim.”
“What is it?” I asked, taking it. I could hear footsteps coming back down the tunnel. I hoped it was Steph returning, her own shock under control. I turned and strained my eyes, a dark shadow slowly emerging. Her head was lowered, her face looking grave and angry, but I felt relief seeing her walking back. I needed her with me, needing her to hear and remember, to corroborate in case there were questions.
“It’s his diary, well, their diary. All of Harry’s personalities have written in it, but I think you will understand him a lot more once you’ve read it for yourself.” I opened the clasp and flicked through the book, writing filling almost every page. There were blank ones towards the back, but for the most part, it was filled.
“When did he start this?” I asked, reading a couple of words here and there.
“Harry began that diary his first year in prison. But he writes a lot about the time before then, his childhood, his youth and yes, about the murders he committed back in the 30s.”
“Why didn’t you give this to anybody?” I said, anger building again, shocked that this piece of shit withheld such crucial evidence. He coughed again, long and bloody and I had to wait a few moments for him to catch his breath again. His eyes suddenly closed and for a moment I thought I’d lost him, that he had finally departed, but then he opened them again, looking directly at me.
“I will pay for my sins when I meet the almighty. But you, Jim. You have to find him. You have to find that monster and kill him, it’s the only way to be sure.” He gurgled again the colour now draining from his face, his time almost up. Steph knelt down beside us, her face cold with hatred.
“Does he know about me?” she asked in an almost snarl. He turned to her and for a moment watched as he considered the question. “DOES HE KNOW ABOUT ME?” she suddenly screamed, grabbing his scruff and shaking him up and down. He winced, then began coughing as she released her hold, his head dropping back into my lap. When the coughing fit subsided, he tried breathing but it sounded shallower now, the final moments now clear in his eyes. He looked at Steph again, and almost apologetically, began to nod. He tried to speak but the words were mostly just faint wisps of air, no sound accompanying the shapes being formed by his lips. His eyes suddenly opened wide, his fingers grasping mine as he tried his hardest to tell us something. We couldn’t make it out and during his final seconds, it was Steph who suddenly grabbed him again. Her question sent chills through my veins, the gravity of the question becoming clearer with each passing second.
“Does he know about Judith?” He never answered, his eyes growing wider and wider until all the muscles in his face suddenly relaxed, then receded, his body becoming limp in my lap. His eyes remained fixed on Steph but now the pupils looked vacant, almost glazed over. She screamed, as only a mother would, the cold fear hitting me like an avalanche. Steph jumped to her feet, pulling me up as she went, her strength now impossibly strong, driven by her maternal instinct to protect her child. I jumped to my feet, then remembered the note, bent back down and with a mighty heave, pulled the blade from the dead man’s chest. I slid the note off the blade, then into my pocket as I began running after Steph, her shadow already thirty or so yards down the tunnel. I saw a glimmer of shine on the table as I sprinted past it and saw a bunch of keys, the biggest with a distinctive star engraved on it. They were Levinson’s car keys. I turned, snatched them up and continued running, never breaking my stride, continuing to follow the sounds of Steph’s footfalls, now somewhere in the darkness ahead.
4.
The agony in my ribs seemed to grow with every step, then became secondary as my head painfully brushed against a rocky outcrop. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down the back of my neck as the stairs leading up to the kitchen finally came into view. Steph had already climbed them and was now pushing through the trellis. I had to steady myself as I began to climb, then felt her hand grab my arm as she helped me up. I tried as hard as I could, but still only managed one step at a time, Steph again shooting ahead when I finally pushed through into the ancient kitchen. We ran into the adjoining room and Steph ran out into the corridor, ripping the door open. It smacked the inside wall with a thud loud enough to draw comments from somewhere further up and I saw the guard standing at the end of the corridor looking at what the commotion was about.
“Call the station, ask for Chief Richards,” I yelled at him, “Levinson is dead in the tunnel, look in the pantry.” He nodded; his mouth now agape. He hesitated, then jumped when I screamed “GO, NOW!” at him. He finally bolted, as I turned and continued following Steph, already turning the corner at the other end of the hallway.
5.
“OPEN THE GATE! NOW!” She screamed at the guards as we ran across the grass. They stood there for a moment, like deer caught in headlights. She flashed her badge at them then repeated her command louder with more conviction. “OPEN IT, RIGHT NOW!” Her feet never lost momentum, her thin body squeezing through the opening gap of the huge gate. When she saw Pete standing at the small door on the other side of the wall, she only needed to yell once, the guard jumping to get the door open for her. I must have looked like a sorry sight, half limping, trying to keep up with her, blood seeping from my head, my right arm clutching my chest. To our relief, no one stopped us to ask questions, our way now clear to the car park before us.
“Take Levinson’s car,” I yelled at Steph, and she turned almost immediately towards the black Mercedes. It was unlocked and she climbed into the driver’s seat, holding her hand out for me to throw her the keys. For a brief second I wished for June Trapnell to drive us, her lead foot needed now more than ever. I flung the keys at her, then ripped the passenger door open. Steph swung herself in and started the car in what seemed one motion. Then to my amazement, Stephanie Connor dropped the clutch and punched the accelerator with such force that I was thrown against my seat, the sound of the tyres grabbing at the gravel car park and spraying a jet of rocks and sand in a long arc behind us. The car lurched hard one way then flung the opposite way as she spun the wheel, steering the nose of the car into the driveway that led out onto the main road, never slowing, the tyres screaming in protest as she swung out onto the bitumen. We missed being turned into jam by a mere couple of yards, a truck ambling its way along the road as we blasted out directly in front of it. I screamed a little, then grinned comically as I saw Jacob in the truck’s cabin, eyes wide and arm outstretched from the window, one fist shaking at us.
6.
Steph never took her eyes off the road, frozen concentration etched on her face, imagining the worst. I reached across and gave her forearm a squeeze. I’m not sure whether she felt it, or whether she was even aware that I was in the car.
“Steph,” I tried to whisper, but she didn’t respond, either not hearing me or ignoring me completely. “STEPH,” I yelled at her, this time getting a short sideways glance.
“He’s going after her, Jim. I know he is.” The fear in her voice sent fear through my own mind. I was about to say something, but just as my lips opened, a patrol car came flying over the hill before us, its lights flashing and siren blaring. As it neared, the driver, an offi
cer I hadn’t seen before, pointed at us, his partner waving at us to pull over. Steph either didn’t see them or chose to ignore them, never slowing. I turned to watch as the patrol car slowed, swung off the road, then turned in a sharp U-turn to pursue us. Steph continued to concentrate on the road ahead, rounding the next bend, leaving the patrol car far behind us.
7.
We had virtually no chance of avoiding the cow though, the beast standing almost in the middle of the road as we rounded a bend, hitting it virtually square in the back legs, the sickening crunch of bone and metal filling the car’s cabin. Steph had just enough time let out a short “AH,” before the tyres squealed for grip and the rear end of the driver’s side clipped a small tree that skirted the road. The car spun in the opposite direction, lurching down the embankment, then skidding across the field. We finally came to a stop about 40 yards from the road, the rear of the car twisted sideways. The front driver’s side of the car was a mess of broken headlights, bits of blood and torn metal, as well as two flat tyres.
I saw a small trickle of blood above Steph’s left eyebrow, her head having connected hard with the steering wheel. I was relatively unscathed, although I couldn’t confirm the state of my underwear. Thankfully, there was no immediate smell.
“You OK?” I asked her. She groaned, then hissed as she saw the bonnet hanging from one hinge.
“Bloody cow,” was all she said, before climbing out of the wreck. Just as I was reaching for the handle, I heard the siren of the patrol car approach, then the tyres screeching to a halt beside the road. I could just make out the revolving red light on top of the patrol car’s roof.
Two officers now came into view from the road, shouting something incomprehensible. I opened my door and fell out onto the grass, landing on my knees. When I stood, I felt Steph again, helping me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I muttered to her, eyeing the cops off. We walked back towards the road, quickly trying to feel for any injuries we may have inflicted on ourselves, but I felt OK apart from the aches and pains that were present before. Steph also looked OK, the only injury seeming to be the blood on her brow, now leaving a thin trail down the side of her face.
“Boss wants to see you. Had a call from the Warden. He’s pretty pissed, Steph,” one of the officers said as we approached. He was about the same age as Steph, his partner maybe a bit younger.
“Not now, Nigel,” Steph said to him.
“But the Chief said-”
“I SAID NOT NOW!” And that was when the young officer made the mistake of trying to grab her arm.
“He told us -” was all he could get out, before a right hook connected flush with his nose. I had heard of tomato punches before, but that was the first time I had actually witnessed one in person. And, one thrown by a girl. Let me tell you, it was fucking impressive. It wasn’t the crunch of his nose that made it impressive. No. What made that punch so unbelievable was the blood that jettisoned from either side of his face. It sprayed both of his shoulders simultaneously, a warm funnel of red claret fountaining outwards. He screamed in pain, both hands coming up and holding his face as his knees buckled. Steph never slowed, stepping past him and continuing towards the car. The other cop just stood there, staring at his mate now kneeling on the ground.
8.
“Stay or come, but decide right now,” was all she said to the two officers, before climbing into the driver’s seat, the engine still idling quietly. The cop that was standing took one final look at Steph then helped his friend to his feet, supporting his weight as they tried to run to us. Steph was already gunning the engine as they both slid into the rear seat, one almost diving in and sliding across to the other side.
“You broke my fucking nose,” bleeding cop said as she spewed dirt into the trees, the tyres finding grip when they hit bitumen.
“It’ll heal. I have to get to my baby,” she said coldly.
“Your sister?” the other cop asked. Steph looked at me then turned enough to look the kid in the face.
“No, my daughter.”
9.
The drive through Cider Hill was relatively quiet. There were a few more cars parked along the roads, thanks to the extra influx of reporters to cover the release of Harry Lightman, but our drive continued almost as swiftly as it did out on the open road. We could see quite a few extra cars parked out the front of the Railway hotel, as well as the Stanford, further up the street. Each of the open cafes had their share of customers as well, breakfast at the top of most people’s agendas. We could see groups of men in suits congregating around tables, arms waving about as they all told of their travels. Most would be trying to find Lightman of course, to get that exclusive interview, but I knew that would never happen. Lightman had been too smart, knowing how to evade them all. He seemed to have a plan, but until that moment, I didn’t know what it was.
Steph yanked the wheel left, the tyres instantly protesting. Her house sat at the far end of this street and as she raced toward it, I saw no other traffic or movement along its length. She slowed the cruiser just enough to swing its huge nose into her driveway, slamming the car to a halt. Tomato cop wasn’t expecting such a sudden stop and his head snapped forward, his nose striking the back of her chair, then bouncing back as the car jolted to a halt.
“Aaahh, FUCK!” he screamed, grabbing his face with one hand, the other steadying himself, but Steph paid no attention. She had her door open even before the car had fully stopped, now already bounding up the stairs two at a time.
“STEPH?” I yelled, but she ignored me. I climbed out of the cruiser and scanned the front of the house. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, yet I had a growing feeling of dread, like I knew something was out of place but couldn’t tell what. I looked across the fence at Mrs. Wong’s house, standing silently on its elevated stumps. I was about to follow Steph up the stairs, but then froze as something held my gaze, looking strange in the old lady’s front yard. She had a tall hedge that shielded her house from the street, one lone pine standing tall and thin in the centre of her front yard. A thick, round bush was growing to one side of it and it was there that I saw something that shouldn’t have been there. A pair of men’s brown leather shoes.
10.
I bolstered myself over the fence. I was lucky as it only stood as high as my waist, so swinging a leg over it didn’t aggravate me too much. When I was over, I stole another glance at the house, now seeing the front door ajar and the window curtains drawn. I looked back at the shoes and saw that one lay empty, its sole flat on the grass. The other one had a foot in it, the leg only visible from the calf down, the top half disappearing into the bush. As I neared the bush, I could already see the blood dripping from its leaves, thick wads of it adorning the bush like Christmas tinsel.
“Who is that?” a voice asked from beside me. It was the young officer now standing behind me. As we neared the feet, he bent and grabbed the legs of the man, then began dragging him out. I recognized him instantly, his face setting off alarm bells in my head, alarm bells that exploded when I heard Steph.
“JUDE!” she cried from her porch. I turned to look and her eyes met mine. Even from the distance between us, I saw her face react to the sight of the man lying at my feet. She was running in an instant and hurdled the fence easily.
“STEPH, WAIT!” I yelled, but there was no stopping her. Richard Lovett was lying dead at my feet and that meant Lightman had been, or still was, inside this house. His throat had been bitten, a neat hole sitting where his Adam’s apple should have been. And as if that hadn’t been enough, Harry had also pushed his fingers into the man’s eye sockets, popping both eyeballs like jellies, their oozy insides weeping down the dead man’s cheeks. Ants had already begun to sample the eye nectar and were busy scurrying about his face as the young cop lost his breakfast.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to the stairs, already hearing the opening of doors from inside.
“Jude? Jude honey?” I heard Steph whisper. I ripped the front door ope
n and ran inside as it thudded against the wall. I managed to take three steps, the living room door standing open on my left. And that was when I heard her scream. A long and painful shrill that sent gooseflesh all over my body, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end in an instant.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath and followed the sound of the hysterical crying, preparing myself for the worst.
11.
It isn’t often that you sigh relief when confronted by a dead body. They are all sad, confronting and tragic, when you realise that it means the end of a human life. But seeing Mrs. Wong at that moment and not a young 7-year-old girl, was such a relief.
Steph was standing over the dead woman, grabbing her hair and crying hysterically. I went to her, put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her away from Mrs. Wong, pulling her out of the room. She resisted, still frantically calling her daughter’s name, with no answer in return. As I managed to persuade Steph into the living room, I heard the approaching ambulance. She was inconsolable, her words low and repeating, over and over.
“Jude, no, no baby. Jude, no.” After the ambulance officers realised there was no helping the late Richard Lovett, or the very dead Mrs. Wong, they attended to Steph, first trying to calm her, then finally sedating her. They placed her on a stretcher and loaded her into the back of their van, her voice now almost inaudible as another patrol car arrived. It was Chief Richards, looking grim and confused. He gave Steph a once over before they closed the door, bent and whispered something into her ear then patted her shoulder. Then as the ambulance left with Steph now safe in the back, he turned to me.