However, what was about to happen was even more unreal. Kevin had no idea. He did not wake up. It was not a dream; it was real.
Chapter 3
vv
I was lying on my King-sized bed in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the wind blowing through the old paper bark trees in my back yard. Sue, my editor, expected a story soon that I had not finished yet. Nothing was further from my mind than writing a travel guide. I could not think of anything else but Jules. Each time I tried, my notes ended up in the wastepaper bin. What was I going to tell her? That my boyfriend had left me without a reason and that I was too upset to write? I asked myself the question repeatedly. Why had he left me? Everything was going well for us; we had made plans for the future, talked about having children. How could I be so wrong this time? Was the same thing happening to me as before? I had trusted somebody and the result was disappointment. Was I always attracting the wrong men? I was a writer. Two years ago, I had bought a timber pole house in the rainforest south of Malanda, a small town in the Atherton Tablelands of Australia. Nestled in ten hectares of old-growth rainforest with a creek running through it I fell in love with it. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen, set on the banks of the Ithaca River. The variety of wildlife was unbelievable.
Sometimes the wind was strong, making the wooden frames of the house creak. Normally it did not bother me, but this time my heart skipped a beat each time the wind rattled against the windows.
Jules and I had spent many nights making love in front of the roaring wood fireplace, listening to its crackling. The Tableland nights could be frosty in winter.
I looked at the clock. Midnight he would not come back, not tonight, not tomorrow. Something had happened to him. I kept telling myself he did not love me enough, that he had decided to leave because it was easier than giving an explanation, but deep down I knew that was not like him. Jules was honest, reliable, and caring.
For a few hours, I fell into a restless sleep. When I got up, I found myself in an even worse mood. I made myself a cup of coffee and stared at the phone. I did this a lot lately. My thoughts kept wandering off to a good-looking, tall blond man in denim jeans and white Calvin Klein T-shirt. I had met him in the local grocery store. Jules was an engineer who worked for an American company that had transferred him to Australia to build the new railway station. He was divorced like me.
I followed my feelings. Never before, I was happier in my life. For the first time I, felt understood and loved by someone. “Can you pick up the mail when you go to town?” I asked him that morning.
“Sure, no problem,” he answered, eating one of the blueberry muffins I had baked. We were sitting on the verandah overlooking the magnificent view of the mountains. “By the way, how is the railway station coming along?” I asked, pouring us more coffee.
He did not answer straight away.
“The council takes its time,” he said finally.
“I feel sorry for the trees,” I said. “I hope they will replant them when the building is finished.”
I thought about the old majestic trees in front of my property. “You know how lucky we are, Jules? How many people live in such a beautiful environment with no neighbors? I love the kookaburras and kingfishers. I really do.”
He seemed to be thinking about something else.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Come here.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I could smell his masculine, fruity after-shave. “I wish we had met earlier, Jules. All these wasted years,” I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“All that matters is the present, Allie,” he said, his dark brown eyes growing soft. He was so handsome.
“You are the only person I trust,” he said suddenly. That completely threw me off guard. Why would he say something like this? Nevertheless, at the same time I could not hide the fact that I felt somewhat proud that I had earned it. “You can always trust me, Jules. You know that.” If I had only known then how close I was to the truth.
“Well, I’d better go.” He sounded somehow not himself. “I have an appointment with the mechanic; something is not right with the engine of the truck.”
We did not say much as I walked him to his Toyota. Then he kissed me long and hard. I held onto him as if I would not see him again. Did I feel that something was wrong back then? “Hurry up,” I whispered in his ear. “I know what we can do after you come back.”
I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks.
“Oh, Allie,” he whispered in my ear, “I love you. Never forget that.”
He turned away and a few minutes later I could not see his truck any more as it disappeared in a cloud of dust. I walked back to the house, but could not shake off the feeling that something was not right.
I did not hear from him until six o’clock that night. His voice sounded low on the phone.
“The truck won’t be ready before tomorrow. I am staying with a friend tonight, Allie.”
What friend was he talking of? Jules did not know anybody here. We kept pretty much to ourselves. I did not want to be nosey and ask who his friend was, and so I said, “No problem. Have fun. See you tomorrow, then.”
I heard loud voices in the background. He hung up. I suddenly felt the silence in the house more than ever before and had the same feeling that something was wrong. Was Jules losing interest in me already? We had been seeing each other for a year, but it did not seem that long. They said the honeymoon phase was over in six months.
I tried not to panic. If Jules were sick of me, he surely would have told me. Since when had I been so insecure? I think it was only after my divorce. I so desperately wanted to make it work this time. Angry with myself at these thoughts, I made myself a cup of coffee. He was only meeting a friend, for heaven’s sake!
He did not come home the next day or the day after. I asked myself where Jules met his friend. From where was he calling? Was his truck really booked in with the mechanic? I had so many questions, but no answers. There was only one way to find out. I could not wait any longer and called the only mechanic in town, who told me no truck was booked in for Montgomery; they did not know anything about an engine problem. I could not believe it. If I had hoped they would help me, I was wrong.
Jules’ cottage was only a few minutes away from mine. I drove to it, hoping to find some clues, but when I opened his wardrobe, everything was neatly folded, his shirts untouched and no sign of anything out of place. Wherever he had gone, he did not need his clothes, unless someone abducted him. Do not be silly. Now you are getting ridiculous.
I started to feel panic coming back, did something happen to him? It was time to go to the police. I had already waited for too long. I needed clarification.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the police station. I parked my red Volvo C30 in the parking lot and entered the building. There are two types of police officers: the ones who are trying to help; and the ones who keep you waiting, looking forward to going back to their lunch break or whatever they were doing before you interrupted them. This one definitely belonged to the second category. He did not bother to get up from the desk when he saw me. He was reading the newspaper. It took several seconds before he looked up at me. “Can I help you?” he asked finally.
I swallowed.
“I want to report that my boyfriend has been missing for a few days.”
I told him what had happened.
“You have to fill this out.” He got up from his chair and handed me a form.
I read the title, “Missing person report.” Reality started to kick in. I did my best to hide my tears.
The officer rubbed his pale chin with his fingertips. “The council is not planning a railway station here,” he said. “Your boyfriend must have been lying to you.”
I looked confused. He smiled almost sympathetically. I felt my blood boil in my veins but I forced myself to stay calm. “There is nothing we can do at the moment. I am afraid that you have to wait until
you hear from him. I’ll send someone to his place to look around, if it makes you feel better.” I remembered not seeing any plans or drawings at his place. Could the officer be right? Was Jules an engineer at all? Doubts crept into my mind. Nevertheless, if he was, what was he doing in Malanda and why did he lie to me? Suddenly I felt dizzy.
“Go home and get some rest,” the officer said. “Many couples split up, with one leaving without any explanation. That happens all the time.”
I looked at him, my eyes wide. He had to be kidding. “Are you sure the council isn’t planning a railway station here?” I could hardly hear my voice.
“I am one hundred percent sure. Not enough people would use it. Believe me. Many people who turn up after a few days. Be patient. Maybe he only wanted some time away from you.” My face was expressionless. I felt drained, as if all the blood had left my body.
“You’ve got to understand that there are people who don’t want to be found. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack,” he continued.
“But you must do something!” I cried. “What if something happened to him?”
“At the moment we don’t have any signs that there could be a murder. We can’t do anything until we hear more, sorry.” Murder - It got worse by the minute.
“You said that he is divorced from his wife. I suggest contacting her; maybe he went back to her.”
Yellow and green stars appeared in front of my eyes. I leaned against the counter. I had never thought that Jules would go back to his wife.
“He would never do that,” I said, a little too loudly. “You don’t know him. He was in love with me.”
A few seconds passed.
“Well, you are a very beautiful woman. What man would not be in love with you?” he grinned.
How dare him! I wanted to tell him what I thought about his behaviour but did not have the energy. He became serious again.
“Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do at the moment. I’ll let you know when I find out more.”
I had never been so close to breaking down. I needed to get out of there.
“If you don’t want to get seriously hurt don’t get involved with me, Allie.” Jules’ words shot through my head when I stepped outside. I was stunned at the time and could not understand why he had said something like that. Before I could digest it, he had changed the subject.
“Olivia and I are divorced,” Jules had said, shortly after we met. “She left me for another man.”
He had never mentioned her name again.
“Some people don’t want to be found,” the officer had said. It was obvious that he did not understand what was happening but his words rang in my ears for the rest of the day: “Jules might have gone back to his wife.”
I had to go on with my life. There was nobody who would tell me exactly what to do next. For Heaven’s sake, what was I supposed to do now? My life had changed from reality to a nightmare and the most frustrating thing was that I had no idea how to change it back.
Chapter 4
vv
The Say watched himself in the mirror for ten minutes before he allowed a thin smile of satisfaction to appear on his face. He looked closer. The scars had taken two years to heal now only a thin line was noticeable. His nose had a different shape after the plastic surgery; it was shorter and straighter. He looked a bit like Harrison Ford. A long time he had waited for it to heal, too long.
He raised his forehead and felt no sensation. The surgeon must have damaged the main nerve. He was an Idiot! The same was with the jaw. This was the last facial surgery for him, unless he wanted to look like The Joker in Batman. Now his new face was a masterpiece. He did not want to ruin it. His hand stroked the left side of his face no feeling there, either. His smile froze. It did not matter. He had to live with it; otherwise, the voices would be angry with him if he complained.
It is time to call Woods; give him a little fright. He had a big surprise in store for him.
The Say laughed into the mirror, his white, even teeth showing. Nobody would recognize him any more. Bad luck for the surgeon who had to die, eyes wide open. He did not have any other option, did he?
Although the air was mild when he stepped outside the Sydney Hilton Hotel, The Say felt pain shooting through the right side of his face. He tried to ignore it and headed towards the travel agency across the road where he booked a ticket to Germany.
He came up with another strategy straight after his surgery. He had not called Woods just to tell him he was back. He also told him that there was a change of plan. He was after Kevin as well, in case he could still identify The Say. This made the game a bit more interesting. Of course, the FBI had instantly relocated this idiot to Germany. It did not matter; he would get him eventually, thanks to Smith. The spy could rely on him; he paid him a lot of money for the information. When he entered the travel agency, the woman behind the desk flushed as soon as she saw him. He had seen her several times before at the “Black Dahlia” Night Club in Elizabeth Street, working as a stripper. He had flirted with her and bought her a drink afterwards. She was definitely worth her money.
She recognized him and pretended she was busy, hoping he would go to the other travel consultant, but he went straight up to her desk. He was in control. This time she was not wearing black stockings and red heels, exposing her voluptuous breasts. Instead, she wore a loose, white-collared blouse over a navy skirt. What a slut!
He wished he had taken care of her before, but it was not the right time; the dead body in the bathtub had to go first, before he could think of anything else.
He felt great. He would give Woods a real headache, making sure all physical evidence against him was gone.
She handed him the documents. The Say brushed her hand slightly, making it look like it was an accident, and gave her an intense look.
She smiled at him, an unspoken agreement between them. It all came back to charm and intelligence, and he knew he had both.
The foundation stone was in place; the rest was easy. Everything was working in his favor. Pleased with himself, he left the travel agency.
While he was walking back to the hotel, his hand reached into the coat pocket, pulling out the photograph of a man in his late thirties. His mood changed immediately.
“Where are you, asshole? Did your mother tell you not to poke your nose into things you do not understand? You did not listen, did you, you piece of shit. Now I have to waste my precious time because of you. The FBI can hide you wherever they want, but I will find you. There is no escape from me. Do you really think you are smarter than me?”
His rushed through his veins. The FBI was such a bunch of losers. Although he constantly gave them clues, they had never been able to work out his tactics.
“Your time has come, you son of a bitch. Woods can hide you as much as he wants, but I will find you. You will regret that you were ever born.”
The Say felt more anger rising. A brief moment of neglect had changed everything, stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did he not wear his mask that night? Mistakes like that must never happen again. His eyes narrowed when he looked down at the photograph.
“You are dead! I will find you. Thanks to the surgery, nobody will know who they are looking for.”
He had learnt how to find out everything he wanted. His brain was like an encyclopedia; nobody could match his intelligence.
“Why did you have to be there? This is your own fault that you have to die. Do you know that nobody is ever going to cross The Say? The FBI, those total fucking idiots, sent you to Australia, as if that would make any difference! It is time to teach all of you a lesson, for the last time. You don’t leave me any other choice.”
His face wore an expression of steel. Control was what he needed to stop the voices. He was in control again. He was the Mastermind.
To catch, catch, catch a butterfly, you have to have a net, net, net! Here I come! Watch out!
Chapter 5
vv
“We have no other
options, Kevin,” said David Woods, Special Agent in Charge of the Investigation.
He was sitting across from Kevin at the Cairns airport coffee shop, looking him straight in the eye. Kevin glanced at the man with the salt and pepper hair and bushy white eyebrows. He heard passengers paged, kids screaming, and the noise of loud clattering plates in the background.
“Listen to me,” Agent Woods said, taking him by the shoulders when he saw Kevin’s frustration and anger. “Whatever is going through your head, think about the consequences that it could have for you and her.”
Kevin knew the FBI did not joke about these things. He could not do anything but stare at Woods and nod automatically. He did not want to leave - not again - but he was a hunted man with his head on the plate if he did not do what Woods said. This was going to be the worst day in his life when he would have to call Allie and tell her he would not come back today or ever. Hearing her soft voice for the last time, knowing he would hurt her, was too much to bear. He swallowed hard. Leaving her and Australia was something he never wanted. It hit him doubly hard. Did he have any other choice? The killer had had a facial reconstruction. This was the reason the FBI had not heard from him for the past two years. Kevin hoped the killer was dead but the FBI just received a phone call from him. He had struck again. This time it was a first class stripper in Sydney, leaving his initials, “T S” behind, burnt on the forehead of the victim. That was his message to let everybody know he was back in business.
With a great effort, Kevin managed to stay calm.
“Are you sure it was him and not a copycat?” he asked. Woods leaned back in his chair, rolling the black and gold Mont Blanc roller pen in one hand.
“Yes, I am sure. It was definitely him. We cannot take any risks; you will have to leave. I am really sorry, Kevin.” The last thing Kevin had expected was to leave Australia immediately, just when he wanted to ask Allie to marry him. He could not find any words to say. Anger changed into frustration and then sadness. He had enjoyed Allie’s company too much and forgotten that he was living on borrowed time. It could have been over at any moment. He should have known better and stopped it right from the beginning. Was that the punishment?
To Catch A Butterfly You Need A Net Page 2