From the Dark

by K. A. Richardson

  She groaned and opened her eyes, groaning again as the bright lights made her blink. When Mark appeared in front of her, though, she smiled softly. He looked worried sick. ‘I’m okay.’ Stretching her neck, she winced as pain shot through her shoulder and back.

  ‘I know you are. You’re in hospital, hon. Do you remember why?’

  ‘Duke kidnapped me. He stabbed me in the shoulder and hung me on a…’ her voice shook as she recalled the meat hook, ‘…hook. Then you came and rescued me.’

  ‘Your shoulder wound was pretty bad – he managed to nick an artery so you’d lost a lot of blood by the time we got there. You’ve been in surgery for a couple of hours – they’ve fixed your back and shoulder up but you’re going to be in pain for a bit. There was some muscle damage and, the doc thinks, possibly some nerve damage too.’

  ‘You got him, though, didn’t you? Duke, I mean?’

  ‘Yeah we got him.’ Mark’s voice was grim and a shadow descended over his face. ‘Crime scene investigators are still there – they found evidence of more bodies in a hole in the ground in another room at the back. Don’t know how many yet. We think he killed the lads he dumped in the vaults as well.’

  ‘He did. His aura is the same as the one I saw in a vision. If it was Duke, though, that must mean it wasn’t the man you thought it was. Sorry, Mark, I know you really wanted it to be him.’

  ‘Francis Wright,’ Mark spat the words with disdain. ‘Looks like he’s going to get away with it again.’

  ‘Maybe not – you’re still waiting on some results back, aren’t you?’

  Mark’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘How did you know that? I hadn’t seen you to discuss anything with you.’

  ‘I just do. Don’t believe it’s over until it’s over. That’s all I can say. That’s what my guide is telling me anyway.’

  ‘Your guide?’

  ‘I think me and you need to have a proper talk about my gift and how it works. But can we do it a bit later? I’m suddenly feeling really–’ Toni’s head lolled to one side and she fell asleep instantly.

  5th January, 1020 hours – Edinburgh City Police Station

  Christmas had passed by in a blur and Mark had finally gone back to work after having a few days off with his family over the new year. Toni had been released from hospital too, and so had her friend Paul. All seemed to be well in the world once again, at least for now.

  Mark looked up from his desk as McPhee stormed in through the door.

  ‘You need to see this, Mark.’ McPhee’s voice was urgent and he ushered Mark through into his office. Dougie was already present, the chief superintendent looking over his shoulder.

  McPhee pressed play on the media player on his computer and the screen was filled with footage and sound.

  The footage showed Francis Wright, clearly in the throes of ecstasy with Steven Connelly, the lad Mark knew Wright had killed. It was similar to the footage he’d already seen but it felt different.

  It showed Wright checking the binds around the Steven’s neck several times and tightening them throughout. He had clearly ignored the lad’s lips start to turn blue – the pair were having sex in front of a large mirror so Mark knew Wright had the perfect view of the lad’s face. Steven’s expression turned to horror as he struggled for breath.

  The video went on to show Wright grabbing the lad’s arms, holding them behind his back as Wright pounded into the lad’s arse, coming forcefully. It was only once he’d finished that Wright realised that the lad was in real distress.

  Wright stood and watched as the young man’s hands grabbed at the binds on his neck frantically, his energy ebbing as he struggled for breath. Choking sounds replaced the grunting sex noises and instead of panicking and undoing the ties around the lad’s neck, Wright stood back with a gleeful smile on his face, clearly enjoying the fact that the young man was suffering. The lad’s struggles grew weaker and tears streamed down his face. His lips turned an even darker shade of blue, red spots appeared in Steven’s eyes, and Wright continued to ignore the young man’s plight, not cutting the restraints and ties free and not offering any first aid or assistance. He eventually spoke softly. ‘It’s alright, Stevie, it’ll be over soon. Just relax.’ Wright ran his finger down Steven’s wet cheek as his struggles stopped, his eyes wide open and staring at the camera.

  ‘Tell me this is enough evidence to retry Wright?’ Mark’s voice was forceful as he turned around and aimed the question at McPhee who shrugged his shoulders reluctantly.

  ‘I don’t know – double jeopardy means he can’t be tried for the same murder twice.’

  ‘Are you thick, or do you just not read the legality changes when they come through by email?’ Mark was furious and continued. ‘Double jeopardy was overturned in 2005 after the death of Stephen Lawrence, the young man killed down south. It was decided then that the same person can be tried for the same crime twice, as long as there is new and damning evidence. I’d say this constitutes as new and damning, wouldn’t you?’ Mark was incredulous. How the hell can my own inspector not know that particular piece of vital information?

  ‘Mark’s right. I would agree with him that this is definitely sufficient evidence for Wright to be re-arrested for the manslaughter of Steven Connelly. Mark, I trust that you can arrest Wright on those charges? He’s still down in the cells being de-arrested for the vault deaths. Bain is singing like a canary now – bragging about his art shows, even about trying to set Wright up. It turns out the pair know each other rather well. McPhee, a word in my office. Now.’ The chief superintendent motioned McPhee through the door leaving Mark standing next to Dougie.

  Mark grinned at Dougie. ‘Finally – someone with sense! I’m going to enjoy this. You coming?’

  ‘Hell yes – not missing this one for the world.’

  Both stormed out of McPhee’s office and ran down the stairs to the custody suite.

  Epilogue

  Mark stood in the courtroom dressed in one of his smartest suits. Toni wasn’t present – he was there in his capacity as arresting officer of Francis Wright. He had to stop the smile spreading across his face and making him look like the smug bastard he felt like. The jury had just re-entered the room and had seated themselves in the jury dock.

  ‘Jury, do you have a verdict?’ High Court Judge McAllister addressed the jury from his position in the centre of the front of the room.

  Mark held his breath. He knew the evidence had been presented in a good manner. But you could never guess the outcome in trials: juries were unpredictable.

  One male juror got to his feet and held the piece of paper in front of him and nodded at the judge.

  ‘On the charge of manslaughter, how do you find the defendant?’

  ‘Guilty, your honour.’

  ‘On the charges of rape with two adult males by sodomy, how do you find the defendant?’

  ‘Guilty, your honour.’

  ‘Thank you, juror, you may be seated. Francis Wright – you have been found guilty of the charges against you. You appear to show little remorse for your actions and, I believe, present a very clear danger to young men in the community. Young men you like to mould into someone they’re not and force to do your bidding. I believe you would remain a danger to the public if you were to be released early. The sentences for rape and manslaughter are to be ran consecutively – you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment for the rapes, and ten years, which is the maximum I can give, for the manslaughter. You will not be eligible for parole until you have served a minimum of twenty years and entered into a rehabilitation programme as part of your prison term.’

  Mark heard the gasp of ‘yes’ behind him – Steven Connelly’s family were present in the galleries, as was Lee Robson’s mother. All were obviously pleased at the outcome. It would never bring the young men back but justice, at last, was being served.

  Mark focussed in on Wright’s face. He looked devastated. His solicitor must have warned him that McAllister was a hard-arse judge and wouldn
’t let him off lightly, but it was still a shock, even to him, that the judge had sought the maximum terms allowed. Wright was led away by the court officials and Mark let out a long sigh before he left the courtroom. It was over.

  Bain’s court case had been held the week before – he’d also been found guilty of a total of eight counts of murder and kidnapping and one of kidnapping and attempted murder, all by his own admission. Bain had continued to brag to anyone who’d listen about everything he’d done. The police had even found the body of his deceased wife, Bette, under the caravan he lived in at South Cantow. No trial had been needed for Bain and he’d been sentenced by McAllister also – a seventy-year term ran consecutively with no eligibility for parole in less than fifty. Bain would die in prison for his crimes.

  It made Mark inexplicably happy to know the pair would be housed in the same prison. Bain hated Wright now – believed he’d somehow led the police to the abattoir. Wright also hated Bain because he’d killed Lee, the most recent young man that he’d taken a fancy too. That and the fact that the footage of him letting Steven die had been recovered from a chat site on the dark web. Wright had been sending footage of his activities to Duke. The whole conversation had been recovered by the digital forensics team. It was a key piece of evidence in getting Wright convicted.

  Mark had even managed to get Wright on the rape of Lee as well as Steven due to Wright admitting to having sex with Lee when he was asleep, blurting it out in interview before his solicitor could stop him.

  He couldn’t have been more pleased with the outcome. Mark made his way out of the courts and back to his car – it was time to go home. Toni was waiting at home. She’d moved in after she got out of hospital, initially so he could take care of her, but they’d rapidly decided that neither of them wanted the situation to change.

  Toni was standing by the window, watching as Mark pulled up. She’d known it was his big court appearance today and had been praying all day for the right outcome.

  The smile on his face said it all. Wright was in prison – she didn’t know for how long but it must have been a good sentence. Mark was still grinning even as he got out of the car.

  It still tugged at her heart when he arrived home, and today was no different. Stretching, she felt her shoulder twinge. The injury had caused some muscular damage and she’d needed physiotherapy afterwards. She had almost full use of it now but it still pulled when she moved.

  She was in counselling for the PTSD she suffered from being held by Duke in the abattoir. If she never saw a meat hook again it would be too soon. The counsellor she had for her PTSD had also been speaking with Paul at his own request. He was sorting himself out – had a bedsit now, and was being paid to work for the Veterans at Home charity.

  Toni hadn’t had a vision since just before her time in the abattoir – she’d tried speaking to Sam several times but it was like the connection was damaged. Her counsellor was putting it down to stress. Toni knew she’d keep working towards getting her visions back. For all the trouble they caused her, all the hurt as she relived nightmares and felt other people’s pain, they were part of what made her unique.

  Staying at Mark’s had seemed like a natural progression. She’d done her healing there and then she just hadn’t wanted to leave. She kept her flat: it was an income as she was now making money from renting it out. Toni knew she couldn’t get rid of it – it was too close to her Gran’s resting place.

  Mark flung open the front door and she stepped forward into his arms, lifting her chin as he leant down to kiss her.

  ‘We won,’ he murmured against her lips.

  ‘We did – I knew already.’

  ‘A vision?’ Mark’s voice was hopeful. She was amazed he understood how hard it was for her not to have visions.

  Shaking her head, she smiled softly, ‘Not yet. One day soon hopefully, though.’

  Mark nodded and kissed her again. ‘I reckon we should celebrate tonight. Both our nemeses are in prison and neither is getting out for a very long time. I think that deserves some of those freaky cocktails you like at that place in town.’

  Toni rested her head on Mark’s shoulder, inhaling his scent of spice and musk. Her eyes were closed and she was totally relaxed and happy. Her mind cleared of all thoughts and she finally heard Sam’s voice. ‘Congratulations. The ring is stunning.’ That was it – four words. Four words that told her instantly why Mark wanted to celebrate.

  She hid her smile in the crook of his shoulder before tipping her head sideways and kissing his neck. ‘I love you, Mark McKay.’

  He smiled into her hair and kissed her head softly. ‘Ditto.’

  A Note From Bloodhound Books

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  Acknowledgments

  As always, Bloodhound Books make getting published an absolute pleasure – I’m honoured to work with such an amazing set of people. From the designer, to my lovely editor Claire, to Betsy and Fred, and the lovely Sarah, Sumaira, Heather and Alexina.

  This book is based around a dark and sadistic killer – he’s warped in his beliefs and doesn’t come across as a normal man. He skulks around in the dark, and his presence is terrifying. Writing from his perspective was difficult at times, but worth it in the end.

  I couldn’t have written this novel without the patient help from some of the fab people I work with – CSM David Mason who is there with an answer for virtually any question – even the strange ones! Various inspectors have also helped me out with any procedural issues I’m not sure on. So – thank you to all of you!

  And to all my CSI friends who are always there with inspiration and answers when I need them – you’re fabulous. Thank you.

  Special thanks are also given to my lovely beta readers – Shelagh Corker as always is an absolute godsend and keeps me right!

  My whole family are so supportive – my husband Peter, who makes the best coffee even if I let it go cold when I’m ‘in the zone’. My lovely mam, Jeannet, who whisks me away from the laptop for much needed downtime. My dad, Derek, who encourages me to get the books finished so I can become rich and buy him his Aston Martin. The support and patience my family provide is unwavering and constant. They all make me so proud every single day.

  My close friends are my rocks – constant support through good and bad, and not being too shy to tell me when I’m doing something I shouldn’t be! You know who you are – but to mention a few names (by no means all) Claire, Angela, Dionne, Rachel, Vicky, Eileen, Michelle and Char. Keep reaching for the stars – even if you miss you’ll still reach your dreams.

  I would be nothing without those who love me and whom I love in return.

  Finally, I’d like to thank YOU, the reader. Writing really wouldn’t be as pleasurable without each and every one of you, whether I know you or not, you make my dreams a reality. It makes me proud to admit I’m a member of so many book clubs online, and get to meet wonderful people on an almost daily basis.

 

 

 
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