Blood List

by Ali Carter

  “Don’t worry – I’m not going to hurt you,” said Charlotte, as Gina brought the powerboat safely alongside ‘Babe of the Bay’. “Well – as long as you do exactly as I say.” She gestured with the scalpel to throw the line over the larger vessel’s railings – Gina managed it on the second attempt. Once pulled in, line secured and with Gina on deck, Charlotte ordered her down to the bow and boarded herself.

  “What happens now?” Gina shouted, as she leant on the railings not daring to move. A strong breeze had whipped up on the way out and her voice sounded a little lost on its tail.

  “Never you mind – just pray nothing goes wrong from here on in,” Charlotte called back from the cabin. “Now get back up here, shut up and sit down!” Gina dutifully complied, but on the way back up the deck heard a familiar sound. She looked across the water to see harbour patrol powering across the lake but knew their rapid approach could mean this may not end well for her at all. One glance at Charlotte confirmed her thoughts as the two women stood facing each other – and she was the one without a knife…

  THIRTY-SIX

  Charlotte had come out of the cabin to see why Gina had stopped walking up the deck. The expression on the girl’s face caused a brief glance behind her that summed up a rapid change in the situation. Harbour police were coming up fast, there was no time to faff about, she needed to act – and act now. She’d been having trouble starting ‘The Babe’ and couldn’t figure out why – the fuel gauge was correct, the keys were correct, but there was no turnover. Now the two women stood opposite each other on deck and Charlotte had only one choice.

  The scalpel was in her right hand and blade slid ready. Gina swallowed hard, eyes wide in abject horror as Charlotte advanced.

  “You’re going over,” she said flatly, “sorry – but I don’t have any options here.”

  “But I can’t swim!” screamed Gina as she backed up the deck towards the bow again, “I’ll drown!”

  “Not my problem sweety – now jump!” ordered Charlotte and lunged forward waving the scalpel close to her face. With her back against the railings and head turned to the water below – Gina suddenly found her strength, swung round and gave a surprised Charlotte an almighty shove before she fled to the other side of the deck. After she’d recovered from the floor, Charlotte sighed impatiently, irritated at the obvious futility of the girl’s ‘escape’ and ran after her.

  The harbour police were in plain view – there was no time to play cat and mouse – this had to happen now. ‘The Babe’ wasn’t a huge boat and Gina really had nowhere to go. With a quick reverse turn Charlotte met her portside as she ran towards her, grabbed at her flying hair and forced her back onto the railings. With a vicious swipe of the knife to her arm and immobilised by the flesh wound, Gina dropped in shock and Charlotte heaved her through the gap in the bars. She hit the lake hard and began to sink fast. Everything turned black, she’d swallowed water, she was in pain, her ears rushed and sheer blind panic grabbed her by the throat – and held on fast.

  Charlotte knew she’d just lost her only bargaining tool but it couldn’t be helped. They would have stormed the boat or taken a potshot at her if she’d held the girl hostage on deck – it would’ve been useless. She figured now the boys in blue would have to spend their time rescuing Gina and leave her till later. Now though she needed to get back into the working powerboat, pray there was enough fuel to reach the other side of the lake and make further plans when she got there.

  She untied the docking line, threw it into the smaller vessel and jumped aboard. Once at the wheel she got the engine started and roared the smaller boat away from ‘The Babe Of The Bay’ – and as her hair fluttered wildly in the wind, realised she’d probably never see her little bit of luxury ever again.

  Finally out of nowhere self-preservation must’ve kicked in. Although she’d told Charlotte she couldn’t swim, Gina did actually have a basic ability but was not a strong swimmer by any means. An image of Andrew floated across her mind together with a distant roaring sound. She began to thrash out with her legs and pull herself upwards – somehow through sheer determination, or desperation, she reached the surface coughing and spluttering to find several rescue divers close by to help. The relief was overwhelming, she’d never been so grateful to see anyone in her entire life as they ‘swam’ her to the patrol boat. But her arm was pouring heavily with blood, her vision was blurred and she felt as weak as a kitten. Now only vaguely aware of pulling, tugging and chest pressure – she slipped quickly into unconsciousness.

  As Charlotte docked at the lone station across the other side of the lake, she actually had something to thank her philandering husband for. He must have literally re-fuelled a few days ago as she had made it with diesel to spare… and the little cottage still sat on the shore.

  Once the boat was secure she made her way down the wooden boardwalk and up the bank to the old stone building. It still stood firm between the forest that lay behind and the water’s edge in front. It had, many years ago, been a very special place to them – and not so to others.

  As she pushed at the door of the disused building it opened easily. With a quick glance around, she slipped quietly inside and closed it behind her. Although completely deserted now, and with no lighting or heating, nothing much had changed. She could remember it… all of it… could even ‘hear’ the conversations as memories began to taunt her… Suddenly her mobile sprang into life. She swiped but didn’t speak.

  “Charlotte?” She didn’t recognise the voice or the number.

  “Who is this?”

  “Don’t you recognise your greatest triumph Charlotte? The girl you blackmailed into leaving her home, her family her friends? The girl whose mother you threatened to dispose of if I didn’t comply and disappear for good?”

  She ran anxiously to a dirty window lakeside, half expecting her to be lurking in the grounds somewhere. Charlotte couldn’t believe it was her, but nobody else knew what had happened back then – only Miles.

  “Where are you Emily…?”

  “Well that would be telling now wouldn’t it – but we do have to meet Charlotte. My mother is dead, you have no hold over me now and there’s something you need to know.”

  “Just tell me what it is Emily and be done with it!” said Charlotte sharply, as she walked quickly through to each of the back rooms now and checked the windows overlooking the forest.

  “No – I want to see your face when I tell you – it’s that important. I’ll drive out to you. Just give me the address.”

  Charlotte hesitated, but only for a minute. It was a gamble, but she needed a car – and Emily had one.

  “Do you remember the old keeper’s cottage at the base of Kirkby Pike?”

  “Of course I do Charlie,” said Emily, unaware she’d slipped back to her teenage nickname, “it’s the last place we met… half an hour then.” The line went dead.

  Emily Stone dropped the mobile back into her jacket pocket and picked up the gun. Charlotte maybe dangerously psychotic, but Emily had become the stronger of the two. Cool-headed, confident and with a twenty year grudge… she was about to execute her past.

  Harry Longbridge drove under the willow tree that graced the entrance of the Petersons’ home and still found it easy to park, despite six patrol cars spread at all angles across the pale yellow shingle. He got out of his car and slammed the door hard, barking orders before he’d even reached the house – this time he was mad as hell.

  “Walker!!! Are you in there??” Every time Joe heard the boss yell his name, acid literally dissolved his guts. Surely he hadn’t done anything wrong this time? He racked his brains – word had already got back Charlotte Peterson had escaped so he knew Harry would be really pissed about that, but he’d been here all afternoon and now it was early evening – he must be in the clear.

  Harry marched down the hall, briefly checked rooms and bellowed for the whereabouts of his
youngest officer.

  “S – Sir? In here Sir.” Joe poked his head round the lounge door – Miles was sitting back on the couch. Harry gestured to a sergeant to watch him and took Joe outside.

  “Have you taken your eyes off Peterson even for a second without a swap out to another officer?”

  “No sir – I’ve stayed with him from the moment we arrived, even when he went for a sla –… to the toilet, I checked the window, he could never have got out of that, I stood outside on the landing – he was a couple of minutes tops.” Harry rolled his eyes and punched the wall – Joe visibly jumped.

  “And where exactly is Mr. Peterson’s mobile? Do you have it?” Joe flushed and mumbled something to the effect he thought that had been taken care of in the hall on arrival.

  “Well you know what thought did, don’t you?” growled his boss; “The whole operation has been scuppered and a young lady was kidnapped! Thankfully, despite a potentially life-threatening experience, she’s recovering in hospital – luckily for you!” Joe couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been, but there was something he’d noticed only a couple of minutes before Harry had turned up, and it might well be important. It might also just save his backside…

  “Sir there’s something I think you should –“

  “Frankly Walker I think you should take a long holiday!” shouted Longbridge as he started for the door.

  “Sir – yes sir, but seriously though I think I’ve found something rather odd. It may be nothing but…” Harry stopped up short in the hall and turned round slowly as he blew another heavy and frustrated sigh. It had been a long and fruitless day…

  “Okay – okayyy… show me – nothing else has turned up from this damned house!” Joe walked back into the lounge followed by Harry, and the young PC went over to the fireplace. Above it hung a large eighteen-inch Chinese dagger in its sheath. It was very unusual with its silver engraved horse head handle and walnut casing. Harry joined him to take a closer look.

  “See? Along here,” pointed out Joe, taking great care not to touch it. “The sheath looks like it’s been repeatedly cut and glued, and there’s dampness all along its length too.” The boy was right, and if what he was suggesting was what Harry was thinking, together with Jenny Flood’s testimonial – Joe had probably just saved his bacon and earned himself a promotion. Miles had stood up to look now, more confused than ever.

  “It’s just a round ended blunt knife – nobody could be hurt with it, it’s just for show, the other officers have already discounted it. Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?!!”

  “It’s not the knife we’re interested in Doctor Peterson – it’s the sheath.” Harry instructed it to be bagged and for Miles to be taken down to the station for questioning. He then turned to his young P.C.,

  “You never cease to amaze me Walker – it really is all or nothing with you isn’t it?!”

  It was dusk by the time Emily turned into the road that led down to Keeper’s Cottage at the bottom of Kirkby Pike. She’d been wondering why Charlotte was out there at all, although an item on the news had said the police were closing in on the serial killer so it sounded like she was already on the run. Well – she wouldn’t need to run anymore.

  As the cottage appeared in the distance all sorts of memories came flooding back. She slowed the car down to a stop and just left the engine running for a few moments whilst she reflected on the past. It was here that she and Charlotte had fought all those years ago, in the summer of ’98, the break from Uni. It was here Emily had told her she and Miles had been having an affair, that he loved her not Charlotte, despite Charlotte and Miles being engaged. It was here that Charlotte had threatened her family and changed her life – and it was here that Emily had decided not to tell her about the baby… Well now it would be here that all of that would be vindicated.

  She took the gear out of neutral and continued on up the road to River Bank Lane – and the house that had seen it all…

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Charlotte smoked and paced anxiously up and down. It had been over twenty years since they’d been in the same country together let alone the same house – the same room… she wasn’t exactly relishing the idea. For one, Emily clearly had something overwhelmingly compelling to share with her that didn’t sound too promising – and for two… why come all this way – revenge? A few more paces round the musty living room and she concluded if Maggie Rowlands had died, that must be her prime reason for returning. Em just wanted to spout off whilst she was here. Yes – that must be it. Well she could rant all she wanted… as long as she relinquished her car.

  She couldn’t help but recall their close friendship all those years ago. Emily Rowlands and Charlotte Krane had been inseparable all through school and university. As children they’d even played in the lake and woods around ‘Keeper’s Cottage’ and were renowned for having an unbreakable bond. They had shared everything – unfortunately for Charlotte, Emily had taken the whole sharing thing too far… It wasn’t my fault Charlotte told herself; everything that followed from that day was entirely down to her. She made me the way I am! She made me ill!

  Watch checked again, Charlotte repeatedly looked for headlights and wished she’d got something a bit more effective than cigarettes to calm her nerves. Then she heard it… the clunking of tyres on the unmade part of the road that wound its way along to the lakeside cottage.

  As the car bumped slowly down the lane, Emily’s cool calm and collected exterior began to waver somewhat. She wondered how Charlotte would look after all this time. They’d been the fiery redhead and the mousey brown ‘floppy mop’ at school and university. Curiosity was getting the better of her and the closer she got to ‘Keeper’s’ the worse she felt. Such a mixture of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel – she wanted to concentrate on just the one – the one that had brought her here.

  The cottage suddenly came into view – her heart began to race. She drove up to the house, turned the car around towards the road for a quick exit, dimmed the lights and turned off the engine. The gun felt cold through her light jacket pocket – she felt cold. It was uncanny how it all looked exactly the same, even in the half light. Emily took a deep breath and got out of the car. She didn’t bother to lock it. As she walked up the path to the house she heard the owls in the forest behind hoot loudly, it seemed they had very noisy work tonight – she knew how they felt.

  As Charlotte watched her oldest friend walk up the path to the front door she knew it wasn’t going to be easy to do what was needed in order to secure her escape. She reminded herself the woman was also her oldest adversary – even Jenny Flood didn’t come close. The drumming in her ears was only outdone by the pounding of her heart – in a few seconds she would be in that house with her…

  When Emily walked through the open door into the hall and stopped in the threshold, Charlotte stood silent and totally still at the other end. The atmosphere was thick with emotion, charged with… seething resentment, childhood laughter, shared teenage secrets, jealousy anger and tears – but mostly bitterness, betrayal and recrimination…

  “Hello Emily – welcome home.” Charlotte waved an exaggerated arm towards what used to be the lounge but was now devoid of furniture. “I’d offer you a chair and a coffee but as you can see…” Emily’s eyes swept head to toe over her former friend and rival – she still looked good – shame.

  “I haven’t come for light refreshments,” said Emily crisply as she walked sharply through to a room as equally murky as the hall. The light was fading fast and she wanted to say and do what she’d come for and get out fast.

  “So…” said Charlotte, standing in the doorway blocking her entrance to the hall, “what brings you to me now Emily? What is it that’s so important you couldn’t tell me on the phone?” The gun in Emily’s pocket had never felt so heavy, so awkward – so obvious. If her coat had been transparent it wouldn’t have felt any more conspicuous.r />
  “When I – told you… twenty years ago about… about Miles and me,” she began nervously as Charlotte’s right eye twitched, “I didn’t tell you everything when we met here that day.” She took a deep breath then, stood tall and reminded herself of the misery this woman had inflicted on her.

  “Go on…” said Charlotte, eyes narrowed, she didn’t like where this was going and slipped her hand into her scalpel pocket…

  “I was pregnant – I had a daughter, my mother brought her up. Her name… her name is Gina – and Miles is her father.” If Charlotte had ever thought she’d experienced red mist before that night she was very much mistaken. This was something she’d lost sleep over, had nightmares about and tortured herself with. The possibility that Miles could have had a child elsewhere was the worst news that could come to her door – for it to be with Emily Rowlands and that child to be in her employ was just an agony too far.

  She snatched the scalpel from her pocket flicked the blade forward and launched herself at her! Emily leapt back in total shock – with no furniture to grab she lost her footing in the worn carpet and fell as Charlotte sprang at her and grabbed her hair, her long red hair that only now Charlotte realised looked exactly like Gina’s. She couldn’t think why she’d not noticed the whole similarity before – it was screamingly obvious!

  Charlotte plunged the blade viciously at her ribs then fell back instantly with the explosion – she didn’t know what shocked her more, the pain in her arm or the fact that Emily had a gun! She’d managed to fire off a shot through her pocket and now took advantage of the fact Charlotte was wounded and on her back. Emily stood over her with the gun now in plain view, the sight lined up between her old schoolfriend’s eyes…