Desperation Point

by Malcolm Richards

  “It’s a crying shame,” Dottie said, with a sad shake of her head. “That boy used to be such a happy child, all smiles and laughter. Polite, too. I hope Grady Spencer is burning in hell for what he did to him and all those poor little kiddies. Lord knows where that boy is now! Dead, I expect. That don’t stop Carrie from looking for him every night, though, does it?”

  Aaron stared at the woman, who smiled as she leaned forward.

  “Oh, nothing much gets past Dottie Penpol! I see her, I do. Every night, after dark. Waits till everyone’s in their homes, then off she goes walking the streets. Looking for that boy of hers.”

  “Every night, you say?”

  Dottie nodded. “Like clockwork. It’s a sad thing to see, poor dear. She’d be better off concentrating on the family she has left because if Carrie don’t buck her ideas up soon, that little girl will forget she even had a mother.”

  Aaron nodded, masking his excitement. He cleared his throat and smiled warmly at the woman.

  “Tell me, Dottie, what time do you usually see her?”

  8

  CARRIE SLIPPED ON HER coat then stopped by the front door and cocked her head. She could hear her mother’s hushed tones drifting down from upstairs as she made her nightly call to Carrie’s father. Quietening her breaths, Carrie strained to hear what was being said. She quickly regretted it. Words like drinking and getting worse and not helping made her wince.

  So, she had already become a burden to her mother in just two weeks. The truth was she had been drinking a lot lately. She wasn’t exactly sober now. But considering what she’d been through in the last few months, she thought her mother should have been exercising a little more empathy and a lot less judgement.

  Sinking further into a pit of misery, Carrie slipped out of the house. It was just after seven. The street was dark and cold. Coastal winds pulled at her clothes, but the rain had finally stopped.

  There were lights on in people’s houses, where normal lives were playing out. Carrie felt a pang of envy deep in her chest as she stood there, lost in memories, until the chattering of her teeth got her moving again.

  Heading right, she turned onto Cove Road. She paused for a minute, staring down at the beach. A thick sea fog was rolling in, devouring the sand. She had no desire to visit the place where her son had been found that day, face down and half dead, the tide washing over him. A small part of her wished that Margaret Telford had not thought to pull him away from the water but had left him to be swallowed into the ocean’s depths. She turned away, ashamed that she could think such things.

  The wind stinging her face, Carrie climbed the hill. If she kept walking, she could leave this town. She could go somewhere far from here, where no one stared at her with pity, or worse still, blame; as if what Grady Spencer had done to her son was somehow her fault.

  Grady Spencer. The monster who had stolen her son.

  His house loomed on Carrie’s left. She didn’t mean to come this way, yet here she was drawn each night, poised at the edge of Grenville Row, staring up at the graffiti-covered building. She was still having trouble processing that Cal had been held captive just a stone’s throw from where she had stood at her living room window, night after night, month after month, hoping to see him come running through the garden gate.

  Her son had been kept prisoner for seven years while Grady Spencer had slowly chipped away at his mind, destroying his memories, his emotions, his foundations. And then Grady Spencer had built him back up again, training and shaping him into something barely human, little more than an attack dog.

  Rage flowed through Carrie’s veins like hot lava, threatening to erupt. How she longed to tear the boards from the windows of Grady Spencer’s house, to smash every pane of glass! But she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop at the house. Like a forest fire, her anger would burn out of control. She would raze this town to the ground. She would incinerate the world until all that remained was a pile of white hot ash.

  Because her son was gone. And he’d left behind a gaping, empty hole that could never be filled.

  Unable to stand here for a second longer, Carrie pushed on. Soon, she reached the top of the cove. The road flattened out. Briar Wood was on her left. Opposite, Cove Holiday Park sat in shadows, closed until spring. Melissa’s school was further along the road.

  A twinge of guilt pinched Carrie’s chest. Melissa. She couldn’t think about her right now. She couldn’t think about anything. All she wanted right now was to disappear. To let the darkness take her.

  Turning off the road, Carrie entered Briar Wood.

  As she stumbled along the dirt track, she got her wish. Streetlights disappeared. The evergreen canopy blotted out the stars. The darkness became absolute.

  Carrie ploughed forward, unafraid, moving deeper into the wood. There was no birdsong. No sounds of nocturnal animal life. Only the rustle of wind through branches and the soft squelch of her boots on wet mud.

  And then a flash of bright light illuminated the trees in a wide arc. Moments later, it swung round again, forcing Carrie to shield her eyes. It wasn’t until the light had passed by a third time that she realised what it was.

  Quickening her pace, Carrie continued along the dirt track, until the trees began to thin out and the smell of sea salt grew stronger. And then she was stepping out of Briar Wood and onto a stony cliff.

  The lighthouse towered above her, its beam of light revolving through the night sky. Parked next to the lighthouse was an old Range Rover, which she knew belonged to Ben Ward, the lighthouse keeper, who would be inside somewhere, no doubt smoking the pipe that was always hanging from his lips.

  Tucking her hands inside her coat pockets, Carrie strode past the lighthouse, spongy, wet moss beneath her feet, until she was just a few paces away from the cliff edge.

  Desperation Point; that’s what the locals called it.

  For years now, suicidal individuals had come here to end their lives. After so many deaths, a petition had been created to demand a barrier be erected, but so far nothing had been done about it.

  Carrie edged nearer, the wind blasting her hair and making her eyes sting. She moved as close to the edge as she would dare. Then looked down.

  Below, the fog had thickened, covering the ocean. Carrie heard angry waves smashing against the rocks that had claimed so many lives. It would be so easy, she thought. Just a few more steps and the world would fall away, taking all her pain, all her guilt, all her anguish.

  She would no longer wake up having to remember that Cal was gone. She would no longer have to remind herself of what had been done to him. Or of what he had done. He’d almost killed her because Grady Spencer had commanded it. If Jago hadn’t rushed in at that moment, would she even be here now, teetering on the cliff edge, wondering if she should end it all?

  A voice whispered inside her head—the same voice that spoke to her each night she was drawn to Desperation Point.

  Do it. End it. Make it all go away. Above her, the beam of the lighthouse travelled another cycle. Go on. Step off. What are you waiting for? You’ll never have to feel hurt again.

  She leaned further forward and wondered how long it would take for her falling body to smash against the rocks.

  Would she be killed instantly? Or would she feel immeasurable pain as her body was torn apart?

  One more step and it’ll all be over. Do it. Do it now.

  From the trees came a powerful gust of wind.

  Do it!

  Carrie toppled forward.

  9

  HIDDEN IN SHADOWS AT the edge of Briar Wood, Aaron watched in horror as Carrie Killigrew approached the cliff edge. After leaving Dottie Penpol’s, he’d parked his car just down from Carrie’s house, ducked down in the driver’s seat, and waited.

  He’d watched Carrie leave the house around nine, walk to the end of the street, and begin climbing Cove Road. Keeping his distance, he’d followed on foot. Now he stood, frozen in fear, wondering if he was about to bear witness to Carrie’s de
ath.

  This was not part of the plan. The plan had been to follow her until they were a safe distance from her mother, then casually introduce himself and request an interview. And he was going to, until Carrie had stopped outside the Spencer house. Even from the shadows of his hiding spot, Aaron had seen the fury and despair in her eyes. And when she had marched with determination into Briar Wood, he’d had no choice but to follow.

  Now he knew why she’d come here. And he had to do some-thing about it.

  But what? If he came running from the tree line, hands waving like a mad man, the surprise might send Carrie tumbling to her death regardless. But if he did nothing, merely stood and watched, her death would be on his hands. It wouldn’t matter that she’d chosen to end her life, he’d live the rest of his days knowing he hadn’t tried to stop her.

  Aaron drew in a breath, just as Carrie leaned dangerously forward and looked down into the abyss. Above her, the beam of the lighthouse swung around and delved through the trees, illuminating branches.

  From the corner of his eye, Aaron saw a flash of movement. He turned his head sharply to the right. The beam swung past, cloaking the wood in darkness once more.

  Aaron stared into the trees, momentarily distracted. He had seen something. He was sure of it.

  Before he had time to register a second thought, a gust of wind burst through the trees and rushed toward Carrie. He watched her topple. He heard her cry out. He tried to move, to run and lunge and pull her back.

  But Aaron’s feet were paralysed.

  Carrie fell forward. Her arms shot out.

  The light house beam swung around again.

  Something moved on Aaron’s right. And in that split second, he smelled dirt and sweat and fear in the air.

  His eyes shot back to Carrie, in time to see her body buck wildly as she fought to keep her balance.

  She tumbled backward, landing heavily on the ground, then scrabbled away from the edge on her elbows. When she was at a safe distance, she pulled her knees up to her chest and grew still.

  Aaron had stopped breathing. Not because he had just witnessed Carrie almost die. Not because, like a coward, he had done nothing to help her.

  But because there was someone else here.

  The lighthouse beam swept by and he saw the figure standing just inside the treeline, watching Carrie cry uncontrollably into her hands. The figure was small in stature and lithe like an animal.

  It was a boy.

  A boy with eyes that glinted like black tar pools as the light flashed across his face. There was no emotion in his expression. Only cool, primal observation; a snake, hiding in the undergrowth, waiting to strike—or perhaps, a boy filled with the night, watching his mother come apart at the seams.

  Aaron’s heart smashed against his ribcage. The lighthouse beam swung toward him, pitching the figure into darkness.

  “Cal,” he whispered.

  Carrie’s sobs grew louder. Aaron stared wide-eyed into the darkness, waiting for the beam to come around again, half expecting it to fall on empty trees.

  But there he was. Cal Anderson.

  Only he was no longer staring at Carrie. He was staring straight at Aaron, his glittering black eyes igniting with fire. Then just as the light was about to plunge him into darkness once more, Cal bolted toward him.

  Terror exploded in Aaron’s veins.

  Somewhere at the edge of his panic, he saw Carrie jump to her feet and spin around to face the trees.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  Aaron turned and ran.

  Branches whistled past him, scratching his skin as he plunged into the darkness of Briar Wood. He could hear Cal’s footfalls tearing up the foliage, getting closer by the second. Aaron pumped his arms and legs, adrenaline blazing through his muscles. Light cut through the trees, briefly illuminating his way. He saw the dirt track that led back to the road and he threw himself onto it.

  He ran, on and on, without looking back.

  It wasn’t until he saw the protective glow of streetlights up ahead that he realised he could no longer hear Cal chasing him.

  Clearing the trees, Aaron slid to a halt. His chest heaved and his lungs burned as he stared back at the darkness, waiting for the boy to appear.

  But stillness had resumed in Briar Wood.

  Turning on his heels, Aaron half ran, half skidded down Cove Road until he reached Clarence Row and the safety of his car. Jumping in, he locked the doors and slipped the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life.

  He had left Carrie up there. Alone. After she had almost jumped. What kind of a person was he?

  She’ll be fine. Cal won’t hurt her. She’s his mother.

  Perhaps he should wait. Just to make sure Carrie was safe. Just to make sure she made it home unharmed. Shame hit him like a slap to the face.

  You’re a coward, Black. You watched a woman almost end her life tonight and you did nothing to intervene. You ran for your life from a boy half your size because you were afraid he would hurt you.

  But it wasn’t just any boy, was it?

  It was Cal Anderson.

  Son of Carrie Killigrew. Deranged protege of renowned serial killer Grady Spencer. Mutilator of animals.

  And he was right here, in Devil’s Cove, stalking through the trees of Briar Wood while everyone believed him gone forever.

  Aaron’s body trembled with fear and excitement.

  Cal Anderson was alive, and that changed everything.

  Sitting in the darkness of the car, Aaron’s mind raced. What did he do with this newfound revelation? More importantly, how could he use it to get what he needed?

  He wondered if he was the only person to know Cal was still haunting Devil’s Cove? Because it was clear Carrie didn’t have a clue. It explained why Cal had remained hidden from her. It explained why she had been tempted to take her own life.

  He sat up, peering through the driver window into the empty street. Had Cal been watching his mother all this time? Surely that meant he still possessed a shred of humanity. That his bond to Carrie was keeping him attached to his old life and the possibility of returning to it. Aaron wondered how he could use that to his advantage.

  10

  WHAT HAD SHE DONE?

  Carrie stood at the living room window, watching Sally battle with an umbrella as she exited the garden, heading for the supermarket in town. She had tried to persuade Carrie to go with her but had eventually given up and left in exasperated silence. Now alone, Carrie listened to the ticks and creaks of the house, and the rain dashing against the window panes.

  She had only slept a few hours, her mind replaying last night’s events. She was scared of herself. For herself. One minute she’d been walking, the next teetering on the cliff edge, moments away from leaping off and plummeting to her death.

  Had she sunk so deep into her despair that life had suddenly become so worthless? What did that say about her love for Melissa? For Dylan? Had she become so empty that she thought them better off without her?

  Guilt crushed the breath from her lungs. What if she’d gone through with it? How would Melissa feel to know that her mother hadn’t cared enough about her to live?

  But Carrie did care. It had been a momentary, desperate lapse, nothing more. She loved Melissa more than anything on this earth. Except for Cal, a voice whispered from the shadows. You’ve always loved him more and you always will.

  Tearing herself away from the window, Carrie eyed the cabinet against the far wall, her mouth running dry at the thought of the whiskey decanter inside.

  “Stop,” she gasped to the empty room. “Just stop.”

  Clutching her stomach, she fled from the room. Sleep was what she needed, not inebriation. But sleep did not want her, and so the next best alternative was coffee. She set about making a pot, humming to herself to shut out the taunts.

  And then she was back at Desperation Point again, staring down at the fog bank, waves crashing in her ears.

  What about the other
sounds she had heard? Someone had been in the woods, hadn’t they? At first, she’d thought it was a startled animal. But the largest animal one might encounter in the Cornish countryside was a fox, or in rare circumstances, a wild deer—though she was certain deer hadn’t been spotted in Briar Wood for hundreds of years.

  No, the footfalls she’d heard had not been made by an animal. They’d been distinctly human. Someone had been watching her. They’d seen what she’d tried to do.

  But who?

  A name formed on her lips, one she dared not say aloud. She forced it from her mind.

  What if it had been someone from the cove? Gossip spread like wildfire around here. All it would take was a whisper or two and soon, the whole town would know that Carrie Killigrew had tried to kill herself. What would happen then? How would Dylan react? Her mother? What if she was deemed a risk to Melissa’s wellbeing? She was dangerously close to becoming a negligent parent as it was.

  Anxiety coiled around Carrie’s ribs. Did this nightmare have no end? The electronic tone of the doorbell answered her question. Carrie tensed. Leaving the kitchen, she stole through the hall and came to a halt by the living room door. Whoever it was, they would go away if she didn’t answer.

  The doorbell sounded again, followed by the rap of knuckles on wood. Entering the living room, Carrie crept up to the window and peeked out. It was the man who had come by on Monday, the one who’d looked so disappointed when Sally had shooed him away. She watched him standing on the garden path, a look of urgency on his face as the rain soaked into his clothes.

  She wondered who he was and why he looked so desperate. The man stepped forward, disappearing as he pressed the buzzer again. Then, to Carrie’s surprise, she heard his voice calling through the letterbox.

  “Mrs. Killigrew, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak to you urgently.”

  Carrie froze. He didn’t sound like a journalist. Besides, the press had grown tired of her silence weeks ago. Backing away from the window, she moved to the living room door.