He released his hold on her, turned and slowly sat back down. ‘See you tomorrow, Toni.’
‘Stay warm, Paul. See you then.’
Toni wandered off, deep in thought, towards Princes Street.
21st December, 1650 hours – Waverley Bridge, Edinburgh
Duke paused by the coffee cart and watched Toni exchange words, money and a hug with the man on the bridge. Who the hell is that? Has she shagged him too? He was starting to doubt his ability to purify Toni – first the cop boyfriend and now this scrote on the bridge?
He waited until she turned the corner onto Princes Street, now far in the distance and only visible to him by the bright red scarf she wore round her neck, the rest of her clothing melding in with the crowd of people around her.
He didn’t need to follow her. He knew where she lived, knew pretty much everything about her that mattered now. In just a few days he’d accomplished what it took others weeks to obtain – her routine. She’d not varied much at all since he’d found her again. He needed to find out how involved she was with the man on the bridge, though. Who is he?
Pretending to stagger, he made his way over and purposely tripped over the man’s folded feet, hitting the concrete harder than he thought he would. His shoulder had taken the brunt of his tumble and it was instantly sore.
‘Shhhorry mate, can’t sheeee where I’s goin’ half time.’
The man gave him a cold, assessing look.
‘I saw you back there. What’s the point pretending to be pissed when you’re not?’
Duke’s eyes narrowed as he pulled himself round into a sitting position and he glared at the man who was now plainly on his guard. Duke’s right hand was behind his arse on the freezing floor, his fingers curled around the blade he’d pulled from his ankle as he’d landed. He knew the man in front of him had no idea the knife was in his hand – if he did he’d have been up and in a defensive position, Duke was certain.
‘It’s easier,’ Duke said nonchalantly, leaning his weight onto his left hand and getting to his knees. The process meant he leaned in closer to the man – his posture stiffened as he stared back at Duke.
‘Easier for what?’
Hook, line and sinker. That’s the quickest response I’ve ever had to that question.
‘This.’ Duke didn’t hesitate and swung round to stand, lodging the knife deep into the chest of the man in front of him. He gasped, his hand grabbing at Duke’s as Duke yanked the knife free and quickly flung it into his pocket so no one else would see.
Smiling now, he leaned forward, grabbed the man’s poncho and pulled it tightly together in front of him, obscuring the growing red stain that spread out from the wound. The man gasped again – Duke knew the exact point he’d put the knife in. It had been his intended aim to puncture a lung, rendering the man virtually useless while he bled out.
‘It’s alright, mate. We’ll just wrap your jacket nice and tight to keep the cold out. I’ve got some money in my pocket – you’ll take it, won’t you?’ It was worth a fiver to keep the act up. Not one person had stopped to see if anything was happening – everyone caught up in their own worlds.
Duke smiled widely and pressed a five-pound note between the gap at the front of the poncho. ‘There you go, fella, get yourself some cider or something to help warm you up. Aw thanks, mate. You have a good Christmas too. Take care now.’
Duke shoved his hands into his pockets, his right hand feeling the knife and the dampness of fresh blood. He kept a steady speed as he walked away, back the way he’d came from.
Time to go and clean my knife, get it ready for the next gallery showing.
21st December, 1720 hours – Christmas markets, Princes Street
The markets were heaving – people rushing all over carrying bags of the wares they’d discovered. Toni had only been there for half an hour and she’d already had enough of the sheer amount of people. She’d had her toes stood on twice, and been banged into three times, once with what felt like a brick in a bag.
The noise was immense – a loud hum of people talking, rides moving and children screaming. The evening had drawn in already and the sky was pitch black – no moon or stars in sight. Fairy lights sparkled and flashed as music blared over the hum.
Coming out of one of the exits, she found herself next to the steps that led up to the National Museum – she climbed up two steps and sat down, on the side of the guide rail nearest the wall. The steps stopped at the column at the top – nobody walked this section of the steps as it didn’t lead anywhere. The concrete was freezing under her bum and her breath was leaving her mouth in clouds of white smoke. It really was cold.
Sam’s voice came from nowhere, pushing its way into her mind urgently. ‘Help him.’
Toni relaxed, letting herself drift into the vision. Toni didn’t often see auras over people but it happened sometimes – as was the case now.
She felt rather than saw Duke’s presence. It was oppressing, and dark green in colour, black in places – the exact same shade he’d had when he’d been in her flat. That was how she knew it was him. His anger and insecurities emanated from him in waves. He was standing over another man whose face she couldn’t see. His presence was light and orange, with dark grey overlay at the edges. She focussed on the zee power that came with being Romani to help her decipher what she was seeing. The orange hue around the man meant it was a time of stress, the dark grey overlay showed her he was guarded, afraid and on edge. His face popped into her head suddenly. Paul!
Toni didn’t think – she leapt off the steps and ran back round onto Waverley Bridge. She saw Paul ahead, huddled tightly inside his poncho as if he was freezing cold.
‘Time’s running out.’ Sam’s voice was urgent – loud now.
She slid to her knees in front of Paul, saying his name and reaching her hand out to touch his face. It was pale, his eyes were closed, but there was a flutter of movement beneath her fingertips.
Focussing, she saw the dark stain seeping through the gap in his poncho.
‘Someone, help. Call an ambulance. He’s hurt.’ She shouted as loud as she could while grabbing Paul’s shoulders and lowering his torso so he was lying down. A young man stood in front of her, his phone to his ear.
‘Thank you. Tell them they need to hurry – he’s hurt badly and is losing blood.’
The lad nodded and relayed her words to the 999 operator.
Toni pulled Paul’s clothing apart, the zip on his fleece catching the fabric as she tried to drag it down. It gave with a sudden tug and she unzipped him to the waist, dragging his T-shirt and thermals up to his throat.
There’s a lot of blood. It’s everywhere.
Thinking fast, she pulled her scarf from round her neck and pressed it as hard as she could onto the deep laceration on the left-hand side of his chest, not before she’d seen pink bubbles rise to the surface of the wound. Moving, she shoved her knee onto the scarf, using her weight to press harder than her upper-body strength would allow.
Sam’s voice appeared in her mind suddenly; calm and strong. ‘He has a punctured lung – those bubbles are air escaping. The medics will need to know.’
Nodding, Toni recited Sam’s words to the young man on the phone. ‘Tell them he’s got a stab wound that’s punctured his lung.’
The young lad nodded again and relayed the information over the phone.
‘Hold on, Paul. Hold on. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be just fine. Just hold on.’
It seemed like forever but minutes later, sirens sounded on Princes Street and an ambulance appeared at the bottom, turning onto the bridge and squealing to a stop in front of her. A police car arrived seconds later.
The two paramedics were quick to get Paul loaded up into the ambulance, along with all his gear at Toni’s insistence. That stuff was his whole world. He’d need it when he was better.
As the ambulance finally pulled away, Toni’s adrenaline ebbed and she suddenly couldn’t stop shivering. The cold soaked thr
ough her jacket and skin, pushing forward until it was deep inside her bones themselves. Duke did this. I know he did.
How could she prove it, though?
The uniformed officer in front of her looked about forty-five. He had a rotund stomach underneath his high-vis police jacket, and the look in his eye said he’d been on the job too many years to put up with any crap. He’d taken the details of the young lad who made the call and sent him on his way before Toni could even thank him for his help. How can I convince this particular cop that I had a vision and was drawn back to Paul?
She honestly didn’t think she had the strength.
Poor Paul – why would Duke do this? Paul never did anything to anyone. He’s a good man. He didn’t deserve this.
She felt anxiety creep into her chest as she realised why. Me – Duke stabbed him because of me. Shit.
Her eyes filled with tears as shock set in. She barely heard the officer speak but followed as he led her to his police car, getting her into the passenger seat while he radioed the control room for assistance.
‘Please,’ she whispered, her voice breaking at the start of the word. ‘Can you call Detective Sergeant Mark McKay – he knows me.’
The police officer narrowed his eyes at her, and for the first time in her life, Toni realised what it felt like to be suspected of committing a crime.
21st December, 1810 hours – Edinburgh City Police Station
The walls of the room Toni had been put in were bland – a murky grey colour with nothing to look at except the frosted glass window with bars on the interior and the door, which she knew was locked – she’d heard the officer locking it from outside when he’d left a few minutes ago. There was a table against one wall with two chairs on either side of the table. A black strip ran along all four walls at waist height.
What the hell do I do now? I really hope Paul is okay.
She couldn’t help but pace – not that the room was big enough to pace in really. Six steps – that was all it took to get from one side to the other.
Toni was conscious of the feeling of drying blood on her hands and her clothes. Her right knee must’ve absorbed quite a bit because the material on her trousers was starting to stiffen.
This whole situation sucks. I can’t believe Duke would do this. Why? I still don’t get it.
There was a loud click as the door unlocked and Mark strode in, his face full of thunder.
‘You okay?’ He grabbed her and pulled her to him – she went willingly, inhaling his comforting scent and momentarily resting her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down her back. ‘It’s okay – I got you.’
They stood like that for a minute or so before Toni pulled back.
‘I didn’t hurt Paul,’ she said, her voice low and insistent.
‘I know that – there’s no way you would have. What happened?’
‘I always speak to Paul and try to show him some kindness. He’s been dealt a hard hand in life. He’s an army vet and is homeless. He has PTSD from his time in Iraq – can’t bear to be closed in with walls. The homeless life, it suits him. Not many people would survive winter after winter on the streets, but he does. He doesn’t do drugs or drink. He uses any donations he gets for food and is always helping others. I’ve seen him spend his money making sure other homeless folk are fed. Anyway, I stopped and chatted. Gave him some money, told him I’d bring him some blankets tomorrow. I had some shopping to do so I headed over to the markets. It was busy, and so loud. I had a kind of panic attack, I think – ended up sitting for a minute on the museum steps.’
Mark was quiet while she spoke. She only noticed he’d guided her to one of the chairs and sat her down when she found herself looking up at him rather than being at eye level.
‘I had a vision – not my normal snippets-of-film type vision. It was weird – I’ve only had one or two like it before and they were when I was a kid. I basically saw auras – on a subconscious level I must know Paul’s aura – I felt his fear – he was terrified he would die. I ran back onto the bridge as quick as I could. When I got there, he was sitting stiffly, unconscious. I laid him down and realised he’d been stabbed. There were pink bubbles frothing at the entry site when he drew in breath. Sam, my guide, used to be a medic. He told me it was a punctured lung. Then the ambulance came and that was that. Is he okay? Have you rang the hospital?’
‘I rang before I came down. He’s still in surgery. I’ll let you know how he is as soon as I know.’
‘The cop that brought me in… I didn’t catch his name or collar number, but he thought I did it. He didn’t say so but I could feel his suspicion. Am I going to be arrested?’
‘No. Callaghan is an idiot. I told him as much when he came to find me. I’ve tasked him to look at the CCTV footage off the bridge. There’s at least three cameras mounted that I know of so I’m certain it’ll show what happened.’
‘It was Duke.’ Toni’s voice was quiet. She didn’t know whether Mark would believe her or think she was some paranoid, crazy person.
‘How do you know that? Did you see him in the vision?’
‘Paul’s aura wasn’t the only one I sensed. Duke has an aura that’s always full of frustration and anger, it’s dark and creepy. I can’t prove it was him – I didn’t have a vision of him hurting Paul, or see anything real happen. But I know it was him. The CCTV will prove it I’m sure.’
‘Okay. We need to get a formal statement from you about finding Paul and helping him. I can’t take the statement because we’re… friends. Bias and all that. One of my team will be in shortly and get it from you, if that’s alright?’
Toni nodded silently. ‘Do I tell them about the auras and Duke?’
‘You tell them exactly what happened. Honestly, all that’s needed is the truth. How much of that truth you disclose is up to you. It’s your gift, babe. I’d never try and sway you one way or the other.’
‘It’s a bit out there, though, isn’t it? I know you believe me – now – but even you didn’t when I saw you the first time and told you about Aaron. It’s so hard to get away from the stigma.’
‘I can only imagine. You have to do what you think is right, Toni. That’s all any of us can do, whether we have a gift or not.’
Toni nodded, knowing Mark was right. ‘Okay. Send in your colleague. Let’s get this done.’
21st December, 2100 hours – abandoned abattoir, Leith
Duke entered the abattoir silently, heading straight for the tool room. He perched on a stool and grabbed his cleaning kit, setting to work on the knife. Softened leather was the perfect material for cleaning. He focussed on getting the blood out from every tiny groove then dropped that piece of leather into a waiting bucket, which he filled with water. The second piece of leather was used to buff the blade and shank. It smelled faintly of carnauba wax – something he always applied to the leather at the end of the cleaning process to keep his knife in pristine condition. The application of the wax also meant that the deer-horn handle and join of the blade didn’t absorb blood from whatever he had used the knife on.
Another prime tip from his dad.
Putting the knife back into the sheath at his ankle, he stood and wandered through the main factory section.
Lee lay on the floor, in virtually the same position he’d left him in that morning, his hands and feet bound with cable ties and a rope that linked the hand ties to the feet ones – there was no escape.
Duke smiled as Lee struggled against the binds, jostling from side to side. He’s got fight this one, this will be fun!
‘Quit moving. Or I’ll put you up on that.’ He cocked his head up towards the meat hook swinging softly and waited for Lee to respond.
‘Fuck… you…’ gasped Lee, his face scrunched up as he tried to cope with the pain Duke knew he would be feeling. He’d been tied like that for hours. If nothing else, cramp would be gripping pretty much every muscle in his arms and legs.
‘Now those are not nice words. Didn�
�t Francis teach you anything?’
Lee stilled on the floor. ‘You know Francis? I was supposed to be at his house tonight. He’ll ring the police if I don’t come.’
‘Now that just stinks of a desperate lie – he may be expecting you, but if you think he’d ring the police you’re dead wrong. You must really enjoy having his shrivelled, old penis stuck deep in your arse if you haven’t realised yet you’re being taken for a ride. Literally.’
‘I... Wait, what do you mean? Francis seems okay.’
‘Yeah for an old bloke with a torture chamber inside his van. Has he shown you his toys yet? Told you what you would be doing tonight?’
Lee paled – Duke knew in that moment Francis had been all bluster. Lee genuinely had no idea.
‘I’ve saved you really – Francis likes it rough. The last person he had mounted on that torture rack of his is dead. Francis killed him. Stood and watched him die. I saw it with my own eyes. You would have been next. Instead you’re here with me. Definitely the preferred option if you ask me.’
‘What do you want?’ Lee’s voice had gone quiet, and scared.
‘Oh not too much yet, just a little BTK.’ Duke smiled at his own sarcasm. I’m downright witty today.
‘BTK?’ Lee whispered, glancing up at the meat hook, as he tried to grasp the meaning of the acronym.
‘Bind – torture – kill. One down two to go – you’re bound to hate what comes next.’ Duke kept his voice monotone, feeling frissons of excitement as fear overtook Lee and he started crying and struggling against the ties that held him.
Duke continued, ‘I’ve just got a few errands to run first. While everyone else tucks into turkey in a few days, you’ll be keeping the cops busy so they’re not home with their families, and aren’t out looking for me. You might as well get comfortable – you’re here for the long haul. Here, let me help get you more… comfortable.’
From the Dark Page 16
