by J. L. Drake
“At home.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
She hadn’t planned to and told him so. She hung up and looked out her bedroom window. Night had fallen some time during her growing frustration and the moon outside glowed brightly in the sky. She noticed it was a full moon and shivered. Somehow it made everything feel so ominous. A lot of crazies will be out there tonight, she thought. But then again, weren’t there always?
She tried to catch her last train of thought before the phone rang and silently cursed Matt for making her lose it. She blushed at the memory of him making her lose it the night before and mentally cleared her mind. She had to stop thinking about him. At least until this case was put to bed.
She picked up the photo of Helen Teller and Ian Walker. She wondered at what Helen had done that had set the man off. Had he been pissed that Helen had chosen a schooled man like Ian Walker over him? Had the Butcher had a long history of losing out to more sophisticated men?
But if that was the case why was he killing women? Shouldn’t his rage be focused on successful men? She moved on from the many unanswered questions and continued to stare at the photo. She blinked then frowned. Was she imagining things? She looked closer at the image of Helen Teller and her heartbeat kicked up.
She glanced at her notes, taking in the date the photo had been snapped. No, it couldn’t be, she thought. But somehow it made sense. As much as this case made any sense. She brought the photo closer. Helen Teller was undeniably pregnant. Her belly protruding out, only partially hidden by her son Harry’s head. Natalie searched her notes. She didn’t remember reading anything about another child and at that late in the pregnancy she wouldn’t have been able to abort it. Had she given birth to a still-born?
Her head ached as she thought too much. A million more questions whizzed around her head, some taunting her at not seeing the significance. She knew she had seen the answer somewhere. Her subconscious practically screamed at her. Somewhere inside her head was the answer. She had solved the case. Now if she could only work out what she knew.
It was like having someone’s name on the tip of your tongue, desperate to get it out. She was so preoccupied with digging deep into her brain that when she heard a sound coming from downstairs, she thought she’d let her imagination run rampant. But after listening for a moment, she heard the sound again. This time her brain registered and interpreted the noise.
Natalie’s blood ran cold. She was no longer alone. Someone was in the house. She jumped off the bed. Her already pounding heart was painful in her chest. She went down on her knees and stuck her hand beneath her bed, her fingers searching until she wrapped them around the wood of the baseball bat she had been given by her aunt for protection. Much safer than a gun, Maggie had said. You won’t be able to shoot yourself by accident. Natalie wasn’t sure she believed in the philosophy now. She would much rather have her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of a pistol.
Her privacy—her home—had been invaded. She was angry and she was scared. She hated the volatile emotions emanating from her. She gripped the baseball bat and slowly moved down the stairs. Her eyes scanned the lower floor for any signs of the intruder.
The lights were off. It had been her way to help save the earth and she regretted the decision now. She didn’t like the unknown shadows lurking in her once safe home. Where once she would’ve thought nothing of walking through the shadows, she now avoided them. Natalie tried to calm her rapid breathing. She didn’t want to alert the intruder that she was there. She would need all the surprise she could get and stuck to the darkness of the staircase, ducking low so as not to walk in the moonlight from the drawn curtained window.
Natalie reached the bottom step and cautiously moved away from her only defence. She had never realised how impractical her furniture was. There was nothing to hide under or behind. Nothing she could easily move to barricade herself inside if there was a need to. It would be something she would correct in the morning, she told herself, and then instantly thought about how long it was until morning. Too long. She should just make a break for it. But her purse and keys were upstairs where they had landed after her struggle with the file folders. Natalie had just balanced the purse on top of the pile, the contents spilling when it had toppled over.
She should turn around and go back upstairs, grab her keys and shimmy down a drainpipe or something into the back garden and then get in her car and high tail it out of there. What was she, sixteen? Shimmy down a drainpipe? She would be lucky to manoeuvre out of the window without being caught.
Natalie decided to take a stand. This was her house. Once a sanctuary against the harsh world. It had taken her years to turn the house into a home for herself and she could feel the anger bubble inside of her. How dare he destroy that for her?
With renewed resolution she moved toward the kitchen having decided that was where the sound had come from. She recognised the sound of the stool by her island bench scape against the wood floorboards. She had done it enough times to remember the distinct sound.
A dark shadow moved up ahead and her heart damn near stopped. She’d been half hoping she was just overreacting. That maybe it was a neighbourhood cat or something. It had happened before. But now she knew that was not the case. This shadow was at least five-foot-six and was endowed with a stocky frame.
Natalie stepped forward and realised her mistake as she passed through a beam a light causing her shadow to be reflected on the floor by the intruder’s feet. The voice that came out of the darkness overwhelmed her. She had heard it before over and over in her head. The origin of her nightmares was here now inside her house and she was awake. And alone. The voice wafted to her, almost eerily. Her analytical brain told her that wasn’t so. She was just too scared to be able to distinguish between her waking reality and her nightmares.
Gary moved into the light, closer to her, and Natalie’s hand tightened painfully around the handle of the bat.
“Hello, Natty. I’ve been trying to find you for a very long time.”
Natty, always Natty with him. She heard his name for her and her vision went red. Pain, humiliation, and a torrid of other emotions whirled inside her. She spat out at him. “And now you have. So you stalked me?”
Gary’s face showed confusion. “No…I,” he stammered. “Sweet Natty.”
Again Natty came at her. Flashes of her past flew across her memory. The beatings. The torture he inflicted on her. The fear of an eight-year-old girl. She could feel the pain on her cheek as if he had only just hit it. The mark burned her skin and made her hand shake violently.
Natalie watched him move closer and closer toward her. Her brain was in chaos and she felt like she was spinning out of control. She was a little girl again trapped inside a woman’s body. But that’s what she was, a woman. No longer did she have to take his hurtful words and watch helplessly as he beat her mother and turned on her when she was unconscious. No longer would she be chased through the house and when caught made to suffer unspeakable brutality.
No, she was a woman now, with an adult’s strength. Granted it was not much against a man of his size. But she felt the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream, making her feel all powerful. As if she could take on Hercules himself.
Gary stepped once more towards her, holding out his hands as if he wanted to embrace her. She looked into his eyes and held up the baseball bat. She struck him in the head once, dazing him. She hit him again and knocked him to his knees and then a third time rendering him unconscious.
“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. Natty,” she screamed at his prone form.
She felt exhilarated. She had defeated the monster of her past, the very embodiment of her childhood nightmares and adult memories. Never again would he follow her where she went and haunt her.
She stepped away from the lump of man on her floor. The adrenaline had begun to wear off and the bat felt heavy in her hands. Natalie let it drop to the floor when she was no longer able to hold onto it. The sound of the bat
hitting the hardwood floors echoed through the silent house. She could feel the shakes take over her body and tears gathered in her eyes. Tears of joy and tears of sadness. She was beginning to feel relaxed once more when out of the silent house came two words that stopped her heart.
“Poor Gary.”
Chapter 30
Matt took the stairs up from the autopsy room. Doctor Stone announced what everyone had already known, that Linda Cavanaugh had died from wounds inflicted on her body and throat by persons known. The weapon used had matched that of the weapon used on Marie Stanton and every last one of the Butcher’s other victims. The blade was from a large hunting knife with a serrated edge. The type that if enough pressure applied could cut through bone. Matt shivered at the thought. It was bad enough the knife cut through tissue and veins, he didn’t like to think of bones being cut as well.
Matt walked through the building towards his desk. The small area the detectives had been assigned was unusually quiet. Each of his team lost in their own thoughts about how they were unable to stop the beast from killing another innocent woman.
Matt sat down in his chair, slapping the autopsy file onto his desk. He rubbed his hands over his face. Darryl stepped over to him, his face a mask of stone allowing no emotion to show. Each man dealt with the situation differently. He was pissed and didn’t care who knew it. Darryl was happy to hide his emotions.
“Boss man wants to see you.”
Matt looked up at Darryl and over to the enclosed office of their boss. The glass walls that allowed the Superintendent to oversee his employees had the blinds closed. Never a good sign. The Boss only closed them when he was in conference with someone and that someone was usually getting ripped a new arsehole.
“Any idea why?” Matt asked. Forewarned is forearmed.
Darryl shook his head. “Probably wants to talk about the Butcher case. It’s the only thing anyone around here can talk about.”
Matt nodded, stood and straightened his clothes before laying a hand on Darryl’s shoulder in camaraderie. Better get this over with, he thought. He didn’t need an ulcer burning in his stomach while he dwelled on what the Boss wanted. He had better things to do. If he was about to be chewed out then so be it. He deserved it. He should’ve caught the bastard already.
He approached Superintendent Alec Harris’s office and knocked briskly. He heard the Boss’s growl from the other side of the door. Since it wasn’t actually a spoken reply, it was up to Matt to interpret. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
Superintendent Harris was a large imposing man, well above six-foot with greying hair. He would’ve been a handsome man back in his day, and after thirty years on the force it was common knowledge that he was looking forward to retiring in a few years’ time. He was also looking forward to closing the Butcher case before he left. Alec was a man who never liked to leave anything unfinished and Matt knew there was no way Alec would ever retire with a man like the Butcher still at large.
Alec’s ice cold blue eyes watched him as he sat down in the visitor’s chair and stretched out his long legs, waiting for Harris to speak. His gaze roamed the office. The walls were covered with commendations and awards from over the years. A couple of trophies sat on the small table to the side. Alec Harris was a hard arse but he was a good cop in his day and a fair boss, sticking up for his officers when needed and hanging them out to dry when they deserved it.
He spotted the picture of the Superintendent’s wife on his desk. Caitlyn Harris was a lovely woman, who it was whispered throughout the halls of the LAC had quite the lawless past. No one in the LAC could understand how a woman like Caitlyn could bare to live with a cankerous old man like the Boss. She was everything he wasn’t—kind and sweet, loving and gentle. He assumed that opposites attract and knew Harris loved her more than anything. Their marriage had lasted over twenty years, resulting in one rebellious daughter, Sophie, who was the spitting image of her blonde haired, blue eyed mother.
“Heard there was another murder last night,” Harris said, his voice a deep baritone.
Matt nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Superintendent Harris frowned. “The Butcher?”
Matt gave a curt nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Must have been some sight. Seen some of those crime scene photos myself. Horrible stuff.” Matt sat patiently waiting for the meeting to come to a point. He didn’t need to wait long. “How is the case going, Murphy?”
“I’m working on a new lead. Focusing my attention on the first victim, Helen Teller. I believe there is more to be learned from her murder than originally thought.”
Harris nodded. “And your psychologist agrees with you?”
Matt refrained from commenting on the use of his psychologist. He wondered just how much Harris had heard. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Alec knew everything that was going on inside his walls.
“Yes, sir. We discussed it in detail.”
That wasn’t all they did but again he didn’t open his mouth.
Harris gave him a long hard look. “I know you’re doing all you can, Murphy. It’s a hard case and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. Whatever you need, you’ve got it, understood? The whole LAC is at your disposal.”
Matt nodded, appreciative of the support. He knew he needed help and wasn’t afraid to admit it. “Thank you.”
He stood and started toward the door. “Murphy?”
Matt turned around. “Yeah.”
“I need your head clear and focused, understand? I don’t care what you have going on with Doctor Miller. I just need to know it’s not going to affect your work.”
Matt stared at his boss. Alec could make most of the cops in the building shake in their boots, but not him. He respected Alec and knew the man respected him. They had been on the same team before Alec had been promoted and had worked side by side. Alec knew what Matt was capable of and knew he got results and he would on this case too. He just needed time.
“You know me better than that.”
Alec gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I do. But then I’ve never known you to blur the lines between personal and professional. She must be some woman.”
Matt raised a dark eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“What more do you want?”
“I was kind of expecting a punishment. I messed up. I got involved with a consultant. I knew better. It was unprofessional but I don’t regret it and would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I’m hardly one to thrown stones.” He glanced at the picture of Caitlyn.
“One day, Boss, you’re going to have to tell me that story.”
Alec smiled. “One day.”
Chapter 31
Amelia Donovan hated to be the person who collected the research and made calls. She wasn’t by any standards a passive person. She was a go-getter and an arse kicker. But she did the work without complaint—or at least verbal complaint. She had kicked the printer once or twice when it had decided to jam. It soon fell into line like everyone else around the office who had all decided it was easier to be with her than against.
She had big dreams. Ever since she’d been sixteen she had been hell bent on getting out of her neighbourhood and making something out of herself. Now she was slated to take over as Superintendent after Harris left and she was on top of the moon. Not that she let anybody else know just how excited she was about her soon-to-be promotion. But for now she was paying her dues, being a copy-maker and all-round gopher. Besides, Matt was primary on the case and no one really wanted that title. The Butcher was a ghost. But Amelia had faith in her team. They were all good detectives. They had to be or they wouldn’t have been hired.
She took the last sheet of paper off the printer and stapled it into the manila folder. She moved towards Matt’s desk. The new guy was preparing to leave. He could use the rest; they all could. She and Hill had been on call last night and between tracking down leads, they had been sent out to deal with a couple of rambunctious li
ttle twits who decided after a few drinks to have a punch up. They were now in the drunk tank sleeping off their decision. She was looking forward to catching a few hours herself. She had begun to ripen having worked up a sweat diffusing the situation between the two boys and as soon as she dropped off the file was hitting the shower.
Darryl nodded to her as he walked past, his eyes already half closed. She let out a deep breath as Matt’s in-tray became visible and placed the folder onto his already precarious pile. Grabbing her purse she made a beeline for the showers, passing Matt on the way.
“File’s on your desk, Murphy. I’m outta here.”
***
Matt nodded and said goodnight. He picked up the file Amelia had left as he sat down. His eyes bulged as he read the court document. Damn, Donovan is good, he thought. The document was a formal agreement between Ian Walker and Helen Chance, AKA Helen Teller, dated seventeen years ago.
Matt was still reeling at the web of lies spinning out of control when he read the next sheet and felt like swearing. Harry Teller had disappeared not long after his mother’s funeral. He’d never shown up at his foster home and had gone completely off the grid after collecting his inheritance. It was almost as if he had died when his mother had. He had no address or job, no bank account or tax refund.
Matt wanted to kick himself. They should’ve thought about the boy earlier. No, not the boy—the man. He would be well into his twenties by now. To think, a murderer at age thirteen. He lifted up his phone and tried to call Natalie. He was absolutely certain they’d just cracked the case and she was the first person he thought of to share the news. His stomach flipped when both her mobile and house line rang out. She had promised him she’d be careful and take no unnecessary risks and he’d called her only an hour before. She had been at home and quite happy to stay there once he told her about the newest victim. With his heart pounding in his throat he grabbed his keys and took off towards the exit.