Impact
Page 14
‘For what it’s worth, she won’t have felt anything,’ Neagley said. ‘Luke and Francis here sourced some top quality sedatives, so she would have been out for the duration.’ He looked at Rent Boy and Buzz Cut, still out cold on the tiles. ‘They helped get the car into place. I don’t usually ask for help, but needs must, I suppose.’
I handed the gun to Marie.
‘I think it’s time to make the call,’ I said.
‘You can’t turn me in,’ Neagley snapped. ‘I provide a service. People need me. I’m an asset.’
‘You’re a serial killer is what you are,’ I snarled. ‘Paint it however you want, you’re killing people.’
‘And what are you, James Stone? A saint? Don’t try to kid me with that bullshit.’
‘Who?’ asked Marie.
‘He’s the Armistice Day Bomber,’ Neagley snapped. ‘The price on his head is worth more than the rest of us combined. He’s the real killer here.’
Marie looked up at me. Her eyes wide.
‘Is this true?’ she asked.
I opened my mouth to respond. Then it happened.
With our attention distracted, Neagley darted for the rear door. I turned just in time to see the tail of his coat whip through the door. Then he was gone. Rent Boy jumped, eager to follow suit, but he was too slow. I launched at him and punched him square in the nose once more, and he collapsed onto his brother.
‘Call the police!’ I shouted to Marie as I ran to the door after Neagley.
Twenty-Nine
For an old man, Neagley was fast. Already halfway across the garden before I reached the door, I saw him sprinting away from the overhanging light of the motion sensors, towards the safety of the night.
I ran too, wishing I’d taken the gun or the knife or even another garden gnome, but being unencumbered made me faster. I darted across the lawn as Neagley hopped the fence at the end and disappeared from sight. Sprightly little weasel, he was.
I reached the fence and hurled myself over, landing in thick overgrown shrubs. There was no house behind Marie. Instead, dense woodland stretched into the darkness, robbing me of all light. Neagley was out there, somewhere.
I could hear his progress, but I couldn’t see it. I stopped just long enough to figure out which way he was headed, and then I ran. He had the lead on me, but I had energy. I had energy and determination to catch the bastard.
Branches and bushes snagged at my legs, with almost every single step landing on something sharp or obtuse. I fought the pain and kept going. The dark was so absolute, I could barely make out the trees between which I ran. More than once my shoulder barged into the solid mass of a tree, and I almost lost my balance. Each time I had to stop, adjust and listen. Where are you Neagley?
A break in the clouds above gave the light of the moon more purchase, sneaking through the trees just enough to grant me a sight of the man I was chasing. He was close. Much closer than I had anticipated, and the sight of him spurred me on. I leapt over a thicket of bushes and ran full sprint towards Neagley.
Age and exhaustion slowed him enough for me to catch up. Like a rugby player, I tackled him to the ground, landing in a mess of limbs and flora.
‘Get off me,’ Neagley groaned.
I scrambled to my feet and hauled him upright. I swung him round and flattened him against a nearby tree.
‘Smart move there, trying to outrun someone a third your age,’ I snapped.
‘I’m not going down because those two assholes got greedy,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve been doing this for too long.’
He brought his hands up and pushed me away. I took a step back, ready to pounce, but he didn’t move.
‘You’re a murderer,’ I said.
‘Yeah, so what? I help people who need helping. I ain’t killing folk who don’t want to die already. I’m helping people in a hard situation is all. Unlike you.’
‘I didn’t kill those people.’ I said.
‘Tell that to the cops. But you ain’t taking me down with you, you hear? I’m leaving.’
‘You won’t get far. We’ve got your picture. We’ve got your name. The cops will find you.’
‘The cops won’t find shit. Charles Neagley ain’t my real name, genius. All they’ve got is a phoney passport and a load of jack shit. All you’ve succeeded in is making one less country for me to operate in. I’ve got a whole lot more real estate left.’
The adrenaline dripped away, and the exhaustion caught up with me. I took a step back and felt my heart pounding away in my chest.
‘I do what I do to help people,’ Neagley continued. ‘But yeah, I do it for the thrill of it as well. No one has ever got close to finding out, and no one will again, trust me. I’m careful. I ain’t trying to hurt people. I’m trying to help them. I could have gone out there and hurt innocent victims, but I don’t. I keep it controlled. I keep it useful. I’ve got a purpose. Unlike you.’
‘I didn’t kill those people,’ I said again.
‘Then why does the whole damn world think you did?’ Neagley asked. ‘They’re so sure of your guilt, maybe you’re the one who’s mistaken.’
I fought back the urge to shout.
‘Maybe you need my help,’ Neagley said. ‘Maybe this is a sign from God, guiding me to you. Tell me, Stone, do you want to die?’
I said nothing.
‘I’ll do this one for free. We could do it right here, right now. I’ve got a couple vials of the sedative we gave to Amie Giroux back in my car. You wouldn’t feel a thing. You could drift from this world like a feather on the breeze. No need to fight or fear it. All you have to do is say yes.’
I stared at Charles Neagley, or whatever the hell is name was. Looked into the eyes of the killer. Held his gaze, long and hard.
Then I turned and walked away into the darkness without another word.
Because I knew what I wanted to do.
I wanted to say yes.
Epilogue
Marie Giroux woke up with a feeling in her stomach. It had grown ever so slightly over the past two weeks, building each day like a summer storm until today it was ready to burst. She knew what it was. She knew what it represented. And she knew what she had to do.
Years had passed since it happened. How many, she didn’t want to dwell on. It felt simultaneously like it was yesterday, and a fragment from another lifetime. In a way, she supposed it was a different lifetime. She had changed since then in ways both good and bad.
The good had come from an understanding that she had to move on. With no parents, no husband and now no sister, Marie had made a choice. It was time to move on. She had done what she needed to, and she had started anew. New home, new job, new husband. Things were beginning to change for her. And she had adopted the approach with every aspect of her life. Money had little purpose sitting in a bank. It needed spending on experiences. With her new husband Anton, she had bought a yacht as a honeymoon present to themselves, and every other weekend, they would venture out on it, taking in the world how it was meant to be. She had named the boat after her sister, Amie.
But the bad had come from those changes. They had robbed something from her. Like a filter had been removed from the world, and now she was seeing life for what it really was. She supposed it was for the best, to see how the world really worked, but it was hard to not miss what had come before. The ignorance created from wealth and security had been robbed with the life of her sister, and nothing pleasant had filled that void.
She had started by selling two houses. Hers and Amie’s. Amie’s home took more work than she had anticipated. Damp patches in the house had been taken back to display more and more problems, until her contractor had advised a clean start. Knock it down and rebuild, he had said. But doing so would eat into her budget, so instead of a fresh start, she had opted for something else.
It was there that she knew she must go, today of all days. She kissed goodbye to Anton with a promise to meet him the following day at the harbour their yacht was moored at, and heade
d out in her grey Mercedes S-class. The yellow coupé had been written off, not that she would have wanted to get back in it. Not after what it had come to represent. So she drove the S-class the two hour drive up through France with her mind on her past.
She could still remember the night. She remembered her two captives shouting at the police officers as they arrived to handcuff them and take them away. She remembered telling the female detective about the man she had entrusted to help her, and remembered the look on her face when she mentioned his name. She remembered the manhunt lasting for weeks, and the countless times she was hounded by both officers of the law and reporters of the news. She remembered how it delayed Amie’s funeral, and the anger she felt as even that intimate moment had been ruined by paparazzi. She remembered the hatred she felt for all of them. Neagley, James, the police, the reporters. She wanted them all to go.
She remembered telling Anton about it on their second date. He had smiled and told her he cared about her present, not her past. And only three short months later, they had been engaged. The thought of her wedding made her smile. She wondered what Andrew would have thought, but she tried not to let her mind wander back to him. She was a new woman. She had to be.
Prisches had not changed much since she sold up and left. She remembered something in the newspaper about the headmaster of the primary school leaving abruptly, but other than that, there wasn’t much else of note. After she had finished with Amie’s old home, more reporters had come, but this time their words were polite, their attitudes respectful. It made it easier, but she didn’t want attention.
She turned onto the street and looked up at the space her sister had lived. Gone were the old peeling walls and the stench of damp. Gone was the hairless cat, off to its new owner in Germany. In its stead was a park. Marie pulled up and got out. She breathed in the fresh air and, after a long moment, took a step forwards.
Sunlight glistened through the trees, bathing the secluded space in golden light. Marie had designed the garden herself. Every flower was of her choosing. Every tree of her design. A garden of colour bordered by tall trees to imitate the grand opulence of stately homes. Her aim was to provide a sense of seclusion and serenity, and she was happy with the result. For the people who needed solitude, this was the place to come.
Only one other person was there. A woman. She sat on one of the four benches, lost in a book. She didn’t look up as Marie approached. At the centre of the park was a small circular patch of flowers with a small plaque. Marie knelt down to read it, even though she knew what it said. She had transcribed it herself.
This is a place for those in need. Know you are loved. Know that you are safe. Know that you are needed.
She had heard from people over the years that the place had become a safe space for people in hard times. One woman had called up to thank her for saving her life. When Marie asked why, the woman told her it was because of the garden and all its beauty. That one call had made it all worth it. It made her smile. Amie would be pleased.
Marie reached out and touched the plaque. She closed her eyes and thought of Amie. She thought of the struggles she had been through and hoped that she had found peace, wherever she was. Hoped she had found their parents, and were keeping Andrew out of trouble. She hoped they were happy.
Marie opened her eyes and saw the woman on the bench looking at her. She turned and smiled politely at her.
‘It’s a lovely place,’ the woman said. She spoke English with an American accent. No attempt at the native language. ‘The Feng Shui is off the charts.’
‘Thank you,’ said Marie.
‘Is this place yours?’ the woman asked.
‘It belongs to no one,’ said Marie. ‘It is a place for everyone who needs it.’
‘But, like, did you pay for it?’ she asked.
Marie frowned.
‘The land belonged to my sister,’ she said. ‘I simply asked for it to be turned into something with more purpose.’
‘More purpose than a house?’ asked the woman. ‘Sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wondered if you had some connection to the place is all.’
The woman made an awkward smile and closed her book. Then she stood up.
‘No apology necessary,’ said Marie. ‘I don’t own this place anymore. I suppose I never really did.’
‘Mrs Giroux,’ said the woman. Not a question. More of a statement.
‘It’s Mrs Ardoin, now,’ said Marie. She had taken her new husband’s surname. Mrs Anton Ardoin. Another step away from the past.
‘But you were, right?’ asked the woman. ‘You were Marie Giroux?’
Marie nodded. She stood up, suddenly feeling a little defensive.
‘And you are?’ she asked.
‘A friend of a friend,’ she said. ‘Helped you out a few years back with your sister.’
Marie’s stomach turned to ice. She felt her whole body stiffen.
‘Relax,’ said the strange woman. Her eyes were fierce. Wild. ‘I ain’t here to shoot you in the head or nothing. I just came to talk about our mutual interest.’
‘You can’t mean..’ started Marie, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak his name.
‘That’s the guy,’ said the American. ‘My buddy did you a favour back then, wouldn’t you say?’
Marie said nothing. It was true, the Englishman had brought answers to her, but neither he nor Charles Neagley had ever been caught. Only the two younger men had faced charges.
‘I’ll take your silence as an agreement,’ said the young woman. ‘Now, is there somewhere we can go? We need to have a proper talk.’
Marie could hardly breathe. She forced herself to speak.
‘About what?’
The woman smiled.
‘It’s time to repay the favour.’
James Stone will return
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Impact
Copyright © 2019 by Robert Clark
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book and Cover design by Robert Clark Design
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
James Stone will return
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