by Marie Reyes
"So did I." Her head hung as she got back into the driver's seat. She dialed the auto-club and waited for them to answer. "Hello. It's Kristen McBride. My car won't start, and I have no idea why. Need someone to come check it." She pulled some documents from her glove compartment and recited a reference number, her personal details, and the license plate number. "Yes, I can hold." The tapping of her fingernails on the dashboard got louder and faster the longer she was on hold.
Tensions were high and Aadesh didn't think it would take a lot to send her over the edge. "Sorry I just gave you that information. Why do you need it again? Okay. Yes. Check the system. An hour and a half. Don't you guarantee an hour? Sorry, can you speak up? I can't hear you. Fuck." She hit the steering wheel again. "I got cut off."
Something about the heated conversation Kristen had with the auto-club sparked a fuse in Piper's brain. She was transported back to her call center days and angry customer after angry customer. A time that was riddled with stress and anxiety. "What if it's the same insurance company?"
"Huh?" Kristen looked back at her wearily.
"When we looked at the database on the third-party driver in Isabella Torres's accident, what was that site? If we check Isabella's license plate, see if she is with the same insurer as your dad."
"Sorry, I'm still not sure what you're getting at. Loads of people have the same insurance company. These companies are huge."
"It's just a feeling I have. Someone that worked in a call center would have access to all sorts of information for customers and third parties. Names, address, dates of birth. It would explain the victims not seeming alike or linked."
"I'm on it." Martin brought up the website on his phone. "Anyone have the license plate number for Isabella? It is on that photo, isn't it?"
Aadesh started scrolling through her history, rushing past the friends, dinners, and smiles, and straight to the picture of the accident. He zoomed in with his touch screen, read out the number, and Martin performed a search.
"What do you know, Best Choice Insurance." Martin grinned.
Chapter
Twenty Nine
"Should we contact Bryony Finch's family? We could ask if she was involved in an accident. I'm sure her parents would rather know the truth than be left in the dark," Kristen said whilst fishing her front-door keys from her bag. "I could talk to them because I'm in the same position as them. It might seem less intrusive."
"Rather you than me," said Martin.
"Maybe. What else can we do? Go to the Best Choice Insurance office and demand to get information. I'm sure that will go down well."
"You could get hired by them and go undercover," Aadesh suggested only half seriously.
"I don't think Isabella has that long. Shit." The door gave way as Kristen leaned on it. "I locked it. I know I did."
"Should we call the police?" Aadesh asked.
"Not yet." She pushed the door lightly, and the others followed close behind. A dark silence met them as they walked through the door, and as Kristen flicked on the light switch, it was clear someone had been there. The hallway floor was covered in coats and shoes. The shoe rack was lying on its side.
When she switched the living room light on, the extent of the break-in was plain to see. The television had been smashed, and the letters were strewn everywhere along with books knocked from the shelf splayed out like fans. Kristen grabbed a baseball bat that she had stashed away behind the sofa. "I need to check the rest of the house."
She took short, measured steps as she crept to the kitchen, switching the light on as soon as she could in case the killer was hiding in the shadows. The wind must have picked up as branches rattled against the window, putting her more on edge. Suddenly every little noise seemed deafening, like the house was alive.
Her foot stepped in a pool of milk that had been emptied all over the kitchen floor, along with all the other contents of the fridge. The cabinets were wide open, and breakfast cereal was scattered everywhere. Ketchup was smeared all over the kitchen counter and across the cabinets. If it wasn't for the sickly vinegary smell, she would have sworn it was blood, like the writing on the wall when she found her father's body.
Her body reacted like it did that day as the memories started flooding back, even more viscerally than before. She had company now. She couldn't fall apart. They were all here to help her. She could be strong; she needed to be strong. Aadesh stood by her side, giving her the space she needed, but just knowing someone was there, was enough.
The dining room was clear. The softer Kristen stepped up the staircase, the more it creaked. There was no sense in creeping about. They had already been loud enough. There was a little light coming from downstairs, but not enough for her liking, and she kept mistaking Aadesh's footsteps behind her for something else. She peered through the bathroom door, expecting him to jump out from behind it, but it was empty. "Nothing here." She gave Aadesh the nod as she approached the bedroom door and turned the handle.
As the light flashed on, and she saw the state of her bedroom, she sharply inhaled, as if a dagger had been stuck into her chest. Every item of clothing had been tossed from the drawers and closet. Her bedroom, and safe space was compromised. She stood in the doorway imagining him going through her belongings. Violated was not a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling as she tried to keep it together.
"I can't believe this," Aadesh said from the landing. The sound of the others talking downstairs kept her grounded. She wasn't alone. Thank god they were here. As long as they were here, nothing bad could happen, right? She walked in further, checking behind the bed. She imagined his hand reaching out from under the bed and grabbing her like the nightmares she used to have as a child. Her heart felt like it might stop as she knelt down and peered under. The silhouette of junk that had found its way under there made her flinch until she realized what it was. It's fine. You're fine. You're not alone. She recited this over and over.
Sharing her house with strangers from the internet was something she would never had considered, yet now, she trusted these people like they were family. Aadesh helped her up from the floor. "Just the spare room to go." It was hard for her to keep a firm grip on the baseball bat, her hands were slippery, but she clutched it as tight as she could as she opened the door to the spare room and switched on the light. She breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty and untouched.
"So, what now?" Aadesh asked.
"I'm going to call the cops."
Aadesh made his way downstairs to rejoin the others who were debating various theories. "All clear upstairs. Do you think we should check the garden? Just to be sure."
"This is so scary." Piper's hands were clutched together as if in prayer.
"I'll go," Martin offered.
"You can't leave me here alone."
"Don't worry. I can check. I'm sure its fine." Aadesh wandered into the kitchen. Although slightly apprehensive, it was almost more like excitement. That exhilarating tension that came from doing something dangerous. It was pitch black, so he loaded up the flashlight on his phone before unlocking the door.
The night air was refreshing, and he just started relaxing when a dog barked from a neighboring yard, and he swore he could hear the tinkling of a wind chime coming from somewhere. If this was a horror film, he was sure he would probably be the one to get picked off first. Stupid wind chimes. Were they supposed to sound nice or something? Because to him, they always sounded creepy. There was a gentle rustling, light enough that it could just be blades of grass in the wind. Then there were the bushes by the kitchen window banging against the glass.
He cast the light from his phone across the yard and the white glow only served to make the garden look even creepier, and he imagined a dark figure emerging from the bushes. Nope. He slipped his phone into his pocket and hurried to the back door. He had left it open because it made him feel safer if he needed to make a quick escape, but now his brain had decided that the murderer probably had been in the garden and had
been given his opportunity to slip back in through the open door.
Then, he asked himself why the intruder would leave, only to return again. It made no sense, unless. He was just psyching himself out. "Shut up brain," he mumbled to himself. By the time he was back inside, the police were already there.
Chapter Thirty
He could hear her, still sniveling on the other side of the door. Clearly the gag wasn't enough. Every now and then, it got to him. It was only human to get affected by the pathetic sounds of a weak, terrified woman. It was like a crying baby. Designed by nature to manipulate someone into helping them. He was pretty sure most women could cry at will when it suited them.
Most of the time it angered him though, making him want to finish her off there and then, but that wasn't the plan. He hadn't had the experience and confidence before to make the most out of it. He had killed Bryony straight away through fear of getting caught. Not this time. He wanted this one to suffer.
He wondered how many men she had made feel like shit in her time, how many she belittled, and bent to her whim just through the virtue of being a good looking female. It's just what women did. They couldn't help themselves. It was just biology. They had no qualms about being nice to guys when they needed something from them, only to ditch them once they had served their purpose and go running to the first Chad that would give them attention. They fed on compliments, praise and validation. It was like a drug to them. They had no idea what it was like to be looked at with disgust and derision, like some sort of freak, to be denied the basic human needs of companionship.
They didn't understand loneliness, not really. No. They just wanted to fuck all the Chad's they could until their looks faded, and only then, would they have the humility to settle down with some beta cuck. Pathetic. He had chosen to take the power back.
When he felt like he was falling for her shtick, he would remind himself why he was doing this in the first place. It was his compassion that left him sad and alone. Compassion didn't get you anywhere. When he started to feel weak, he needed to exert his power to feel better.
Chapter
Thirty One
"And you're sure there is nothing missing?" A cop, Officer Carl Schrute, sat across the kitchen table from Kristen while his partner talked to the others. He wasn't exactly a reassuring looking person with his harsh face that defaulted to a pissed off look at all times and bright red cheeks as if he had just run a marathon.
"No. Nothing was taken. It wasn't about that." Authority figures put her on edge, made her feel like she had done something wrong, even when she knew she hadn't. She kept breaking eye contact and looked down at the table, following the patterns in the woodgrain.
"Ah yes. This theory you have. Do you know it was him?" The lamp above illuminated the shiny spot on top of his head, surrounded by short white bristly hair sticking out. For some reason, she couldn't take her eyes off it.
"Not for sure, but it makes sense. He called in a bomb threat where Aadesh worked, threatened Piper's children, and burnt down Martin's house."
"That is quite the accusation. Do you have any evidence of this?" He looked skeptical with his arms folded. She was no body language expert, but he looked closed off.
"The message he sent Piper." She watched as his partner approached him. This man was less severe looking, but his demeanor was still cold and not a hair out of place. He put a phone on the table.
"This is the message sent to Piper. I agree it is concerning. The language appears threatening, and we will look into it, although it may not be possible to locate them." The officer gave Piper back her phone and the other officer started talking again.
"Any evidence for the other things? The house fire? The bomb threat?"
"You'd need to talk to Martin, but as far as I'm aware, it was deemed an accident. They never traced the person who left the bomb threat either." She cringed inside, knowing how this was coming across.
"We don't have much to go on here."
"What about the videos? Will you at least speak to the insurance company?"
"We are going to look into everything that we've discussed. We have all your fingerprints so we can put any that don't belong to you through the database. We will keep you informed, Mrs. McBride.
"Miss."
"What's that?"
"Miss. McBride."
"Miss. McBride. If anything else comes up, please give us a call." He asked the others some follow-up questions, before leaving them on their own once again.
~~~
"Do you think they'll do anything?" Kristen paced the floor. "I think they thought we were crazy. They did not take us seriously at all. I could tell."
"I mean, it does sound a little crazy." Piper pulled at her split ends, watching Kristen pace back and forth, the nervous energy rubbing off on her.
Kristen stopped for a moment. "But what about the videos, and the fact Aadesh found the second crime scene? That's not nothing."
"It's not that simple. I'm sure there's plenty of red-tape, and other leads they are following."
"Well, the other leads are wrong." Kristen was on the verge of shouting.
Piper stepped up to her, giving her an impromptu and stiff hug. "I know this is personal for you. We can still find this guy ourselves." The body contact only seemed to make Kristen more upset, and she sniffed.
"You know this is dangerous, right? This person knows all about us. The things he's done. It was just fun and games for you. Why are you even here? This is just crazy." A single tear had worked its way down one cheek despite her best efforts to hold it back. Close to hyperventilation, she sucked in short rapid breaths, and couldn't speak.
Aadesh came in closer, narrowly avoiding a group hug situation. "Look. I'm thirty years old, just split up with my girlfriend, clinging onto a career that doesn't want me. If I can just do this, help you, help the missing girl, help catch this psycho, then I will have at least done something with my life."
Kristen's breathing had leveled out, and she cracked a smile. "Okay, if you put it that way."
Although it felt cheesy, Martin couldn't help but say his piece. "When my dad died, I did not take it well. Actually, that's kind of an understatement. I was broken, and I tried to fix myself. Rest, volunteering, walked almost 1000km. I know, cliche right. I feel like, if I can stop this person from killing anyone else, that I would feel more in control somehow. Everyone important to me had gone, but there's still people out there, there's still a chance for me."
Piper watched the over-share unfold like some weird support group. She hated support groups with a passion. The one she went to was held in a musty old church. The must was a familiar smell that triggered a feeling, but the memory behind that feeling was just out of reach. Opening up made her skin crawl. When she was forced to speak to the group, her self-pitying words sounded ridiculous in her head and she wondered if the others could see her cringe as she said them.
She did it alone. Gave up the medication she was dependent on, and alcohol. She was better off doing things alone, yet she was here, and they were looking at her. They were stood around wanting her to pour her heart out for some reason. What the hell was this? Losers anonymous? "If this person works for Best Choice Insurance, we should just go to the office. It's not even far from here. If they work there, then we might see them, if we go at closing time."
"What if he's not working that day?" Kristen asked.
"Then we go another day."
"And how are we supposed to know if we see him?"
"Sometimes you just know. Maybe we will get a gut feeling. I don't know. It's worth a try, isn't it?" Piper wondered if she was losing her mind. "If we watch the videos enough, get a real feel for this person. Height, weight, how they move—"
"I can't," Kristen blurted in fear.
"Of course. Don't you worry about that. Just leave that to us."
~~~
Kristen could tell her eyes were puffy before she even had a chance to look in the mirror. The tears and lack of
sleep had taken its toll, and she knew she wasn't ready for what they were going to do, but there was no time to wait until she finally got it together. The splash of cold water on her face did little to help, but it was a start.
Even though she went to bed early, she couldn't sleep and could swear she heard the sounds from the video drifting up through the floorboards. Muffled screams of terror echoed in her ears all night, forcing their way into her dreams. And then she could see his face. The face of the man she had seen since the day she was born. That face was gone now, despite seeing it so much, for years and years, all she could see now, was how he looked when she had found him. Not even staring at his photograph over and over again could push that image away and she was terrified that was the only way she was going to remember him, not even looking like a person anymore.
As she patted her swollen eyes, it hit her. She needed this to fuel her. This sick person had not only taken her father from her but destroyed her memories of him as well. She was terrified of what he may have done to make a complete stranger write, 'you deserved it,' in blood. Then came the guilt. There is no way he could have done anything, and the thought that she would even entertain that idea for even a moment made her feel like shit. The anger was rising like an unstoppable tidal wave, engulfing her until she couldn't breathe.
A pressure built until she couldn't contain it and before she realized what was happening her fist collided with the mirror and it was only after the sound of glass shattering that she could hear her own screams. By the time Aadesh burst into the room, she was on the bathroom floor. "What the fuck?" He ran over to her.
"I'm fine," she lied. "I just needed to let off a little steam."
"You're bleeding."
She looked down at her knuckles and it was only when she saw the blood, that she felt the warmth of it as it dripped onto the bathroom tiles. "Oh."