by Simon King
“Jim, I need to know what the fuck is going on.” When I didn’t answer him immediately, my eyes still watching the ambulance driving away, he grabbed my shoulder and spoke into my face.
“JIM.” I turned to him, myself not feeling the best. “Jim, can you come down to the station and give us a few minutes? Please?” I nodded and the young cop who lost his breakfast beckoned to me, putting me into a patrol car, then drove me to Cider Hill Police Station. Once there, he helped me from the car and led me inside.
12.
A lady brought me a hot cup of coffee a short time later and told me that the chief would be along shortly. He didn’t disappoint, walking through the door before I finished half the beverage, carrying a cup of his own. Once seated in Rademeyer’s chair, he lent forward and looked at me for a moment. I think he was contemplating how he was going to talk me, not so much as what he was going to say.
“Jim, I appreciate the help you have given this department in recent days,” he began, and from experience, knew that this wasn’t going to end well. He continued, still watching me intently, “and I understand you yourself have suffered some incredible personal loss as well.”
“Here it comes,” I thought, “the big BUT.”
“But I need you to understand that you are no longer a police officer. This department is eternally grateful for the help you’ve given Officer Connor, and I hope she makes a speedy recovery. God knows we need all the help we can get. Jim, I need to know what happened. If you are going to be playing with our department, then I need to be kept in the loop ALL the time. Warden Thomas rang me and said that two very irate officers were harassing a prominent doctor in the prison.” I wanted to scream at him, tell him just what a fine and upstanding doctor he really was. But I held back, still unsure of the man sitting before me. “Then come running from a building where a dead man is found in some secret tunnel, only to drive off in his car after flashing police badges and demanding to be let out. How did you know he was there in the first place?” I considered telling him everything, bringing him up to speed and having his men out looking for Lightman. But I didn’t. I still don’t know why, but I just didn’t.
“We didn’t know he was there, or that there was a secret tunnel. We knew that he had been seeing Lightman every single day thanks to the box of files they gave us. When we heard Lightman had been released and saw Levinson’s car in the parking lot, we wanted to talk to him.”
“Why?” I pondered the question, then figured I’d throw him a bone, a little one, wrapped in a little white lie.
“Because Lightman is Stephanie Connor’s father.” His eyes grew so wide that for a moment, I had an amusing image of them popping out and bouncing on the table like ping-pong balls. His jaw hung open as he put his cup down.
“Aaahh, but, what?” was all he could manage in total disbelief.
“And we needed to know if Lightman knew, because if he did, then there was a real possibility that he would go after her daughter.”
“Not her sister?” he suddenly asked.
“No. Judith is Stephanie’s child. So, as you see, once we found him and knew that Lightman wasn’t as innocent as they were making him out to be, we had to go and find Judith, in case Lightman went after her, which he obviously did.” He took this new information and tried to understand its implications, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t speak for a long time, finally taking a cigarette out and firing it up. He didn’t offer me one.
“Did he say anything?” he finally asked.
“Who?”
“Levinson,” he said. I shook my head, again wondering why I wasn’t sharing the information.
“No. He had time to say one final, garbled word and then he died.”
“How did you find him?”
“We had been in the adjoining room before, the day we first met him. Lightman had been in the room, but then when we came back in, he was gone. We figured there was a corridor or holding cell or something back there. When it turned out to be a dead-end kitchenette, we poked around a bit and felt a breeze coming from the pantry. After that, it wasn’t long before we were climbing down the stairs. The rest you know.” He took his time, filing the information into his mind. I was about to stand, to shake his hand, thank him for his concern and then head to the hospital. But just as I was getting ready, he opened his mouth and spoke, his words coming so unexpectantly, that it was my turn to be dumbfounded.
“Jim, I want to be straight with you. You understand what it’s like to be an officer of the law. You know how important it is to be honest.” I wondered whether he knew my story was bullshit, had seen right through it from the beginning. But then he continued. “To have secrets in this job is to play Russian roulette, because if you ever lose one, that secret can give someone the opportunity to hold something over you. And then, that secret becomes power for the other person, leaving you in a rather painful predicament. Secrets like Levinson had. I am not a man to hide secrets, never have. I’m sure by now you will have heard about certain ladies in this town providing services that, well, good Christian folk might see as a very big sin. I’m sure you know that this girl, Tami, was one of them. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.” He paused for a minute, sipped his coffee again, then continued. “I have indulged in their services on more than one occasion and I am not ashamed to admit it. I’m not married; have been living the single man’s game all my life. I can tell you straight to your face that no man will ever hold a secret over my head. Never. I will be straight up with you, son. All I ask in return is that you are with me.”
“Oh shit,” I thought to myself, now feeling like I really did owe him something, and again, almost let him have the lot. But as before, I held back.
“I appreciate your honesty with me, Chief.” He shook my hand, giving it an enthusiastic shake then stood. I understood my cue and bid him a good day.
The young cop was standing out in the station foyer as if waiting for me. As I neared him, I finally had a chance to ask him his name.
“Stanley Thornton, Sir,” he said.
“Please, don’t call me sir. Make it Jim.” He shook eagerly then led me outside to his waiting patrol car, opening the door and waiting for me to climb in.
“Where to, Sir? I mean Jim?” he asked as he slid behind the wheel. I didn’t need to think about where I wanted to go.
“Would you mind driving me to the hospital, Stan?” He nodded, then began driving with the air of someone who’d been tasked with an important mission, keeping two hands on the wheel and sitting tall and proud in his seat.
13.
We shook hands again as I climbed out of the car in front of the hospital doors, then hurried towards the entrance as Stan drove away. The desk was just inside the doors and I approached the lonely nurse sitting behind it.
“Steph Connor?” I asked her.
“Second floor, Sir. Right when you reach the top of the stairs.” I followed her pointing finger and saw a stair well down a long hallway. When I reached the top of the stairs, I turned right as instructed and was again confronted by another desk. A stern looking woman was sitting behind the desk, her face looking as if set in stone.
“Yes? Can I help you?” she asked as I approached, her tone sounding as arrogant as her demeanour.
“James Lawson, ma’am. I’m here to see Stephanie Connor.” Imagine my surprise, when her face softened almost immediately into that of a smiling admirer. Imagine my even further surprise, when she opened a drawer and pulled out a copy of Nightmares Unhinged, looked at the back cover and instantly matched the person standing before her.
“Oh, Mr. Lawson. Could I please have an autograph?” I was surprised to find that this lady, dressed in her nursing uniform, an oath sworn to protect and save life, was a fan of the horror that I had written in that book. I happily obliged then thanked her when she pointed me towards a doorway marked ROOM 4. There were two beds in the small room, marked A and B above them. Steph was lying on the bed marked B, her face peace
ful and asleep. I could hear the faint snores escaping her nose and bent forward, lightly kissing her cheek. There was an easy chair with a big cushion sitting in one of the corners. I went to it and pushed it beside her bed. I sat down in it and watched for a while, hoping that her dreams were pleasant, far away from the terror she was now draped in with her baby missing. As if to confirm my hope, her lip arched up ever so slightly, a small grin forming on her mouth. I smiled back at her, hoping to have better news for her by the time she awoke.
I pulled out the diary, a thick, black leather-bound vessel which held the ramblings of a mad man. It was also the only lead I had to help me understand just what Lightman was planning. I opened it and began to read then paused, remembering another note that he had left for me. I unfolded the note and read the words, the single line that he had written there. It was more of an answer than a question and as I sank deeper into the chair I smiled, finally understanding that sometimes a killer’s signature was so much more.
Hey James,
Do you like being watched when you eat?
Thank you for reading The Final Alibi Book 1. If you loved this book, I would be extremely grateful if you could leave a review for me here. It's very important for me personally and I promise it won't take a minute of your time.
Author’s Note
I hope you have enjoyed The Final Alibi. The second novel, The Devil’s Confession is available for pre-order right now. I cannot wait to share with you, just how far Harry will go to ensure his plan’s success. I hope I haven’t made the story too dark, too detailed with its often-gruesome reality. To me, Harry is the gruesome detail, a monster who doesn’t care about the thoughts of others, only interested in fuelling his hunger.
When I began this story, I had no idea where the characters were going to lead me. Imagine my surprise, when I discovered that this story would be told in 3 separate books, all a part of the greater tale, yet each with a distinct part to play.
If you enjoyed this book then please consider leaving a review for which I will be eternally grateful. I hope you will stick around and give The Devil’s Confession a read. I promise that it will be far more graphic than this title, delving into the mind of the monster himself. You can subscribe to my website for the latest updates, news on upcoming releases as well as some free stuff.
From the bottom of my heart, I humbly thank you for reading my story.
Simon King
www.booksbysimonking.com
By Simon King
Prison Days Series
(Books 1 to 6)
Prison Days: Inmates Series
(Books 1 to 5)
MAX
(Books 1 to 5)
Coming Soon
The Devil's Confession
The Lawson Chronicles Book 2
For George
my brother.
You saved my life when I was 9 years old.
I’ve never forgotten.
Copyright © 2019 by Simon King
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.
First Printing: 2019