by Azhar Amien
Chapter 7: Sicarius
“Jack?”
I slowly came to in an unfamiliar place. I was groggy and my memory was hazy. I had woken up from fainting for brief moments in the car on the way to wherever I was now, but I had eventually succumbed to fatigue and knew nothing further. It didn’t take me long to realise that I was in a hospital. There was a drip attached to my arm. I turned my head and saw Sarah looking exhausted and drained. Her eyes were misty, as though she had come close to crying.
“Jack, can you hear me?” she whispered, taking my hand.
“You’re always saving me these days,” I croaked.
She didn’t smile like she used to at my quips. “Jack, what happened? When I came back, God, for a moment I really thought you were...”
She trailed off, and cleared her throat. I massaged her hand, trying to reassure her.
“I just saw you on the floor...I was so scared I checked for a pulse. I called an ambulance. So far the doctors have ruled out a heart attack but they’re not sure what it was. They say that your stress levels are dangerously high.”
I groaned. My head was foggy and my whole body was stiff. I could barely recall what had happened last night. It was most likely because of the damned medication they had me on.
“What happened last night, Jack?”
I tried to recollect. She must have sensed that I was having difficulty because she said, “Remember I took you home after the car accident? I told you that I was just stepping out to get some things and I’d stay at your place for the night.”
I remembered that. What had I done after? I wracked my brains. I remembered something about CSI on TV. I had tried to watch something to pass the time. I recalled the news at some point. How did I get here? I sunk the back of my head into the pillow and sighed. I accepted a plastic cup of water from Sarah and drank it all in one go. I felt somewhat better.
“Sarah...”
I instantly went cold. I remembered.
I had to get out of the hospital. I threw the bed sheets off violently and fumbled with the drip, tearing it out of my arm and injuring myself in the process. It stung. I didn’t care.
“What the hell are you-”
I faced her. The adrenaline flushed my system, washing away all weakness.
“I remember what happened, Sarah! When you were gone the phone rang. I picked it up and-”
I paused. My eyes instantly began to tear. I could not feel. The words didn’t come. I didn’t know how to say it. For a moment I could not bring myself to even breathe.
“Who called, Jack?”
I summoned all of my strength. I wasn’t crazy. I knew what I had heard.
“Jess.”
Sarah went white. She stared. Her mouth opened as she released my hand. I turned onto my side so that I could face her completely. I was certain now.
“I heard her voice. I am not crazy. It was her. The call only lasted a few seconds, but I heard her clearly.”
Sarah said nothing.
“She told me to come find her.”
Sarah put her hands over her eyes. I felt a rush now; a surge of en-ergy. I was awake. I remembered the call. I had clarity. I knew the truth.
“She’s alive, Sarah. My Jess is alive.”
Sarah took her hands away. Her eyes were wet. I stopped.
“Jack...” she breathed, “Please, please don’t do this to yourself. Jess is dead.”
I sat up, “I swear to you. I heard her voice last night. She spoke to me like we’re speaking now.”
Sarah clasped her hand over her mouth. I reached for her hand. She pulled away.
“You’ve got to face the truth...you’re not well. You saw your wife just a few days ago for God’s sake! You told me you were seeing things.”
I took her hand in both of mine.
“Sarah, this wasn’t an hallucination. I wasn’t dreaming. It was real. It was Jess.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Jack, you have to get help...”
My heart sank, “You don’t believe me.”
“You’re not well,” she repeated, “I just want to help you.”
I didn’t know how to explain myself to her. So I played the one card I could think of. I was reaching.
“Sarah, why did they go through so much trouble to make Jess’ body unrecognisable? Not unless they didn’t get her. Maybe they just wanted me to think that they did.”
Sarah shook her head, “And you think Jess has just been out on her own, all alone in the streets, for more than three weeks?”
I got mad, “I don’t know! But I haven’t lost my sanity. I know what I heard. She needs me. I have to find my daughter.”
Sarah lost it.
“God damn it, Jack! We identified her body!”
My thoughts died instantly. My throat constricted.
“What did you just say?”
Sarah ran her hands through her hair.
“During the autopsy. The body had a few strands of hair on it. It belonged to Jess.”
I was staggered.
“You never thought to tell me?” I yelled.
“Would it have made any difference?” she snapped back.
I fell back onto the bed in disbelief.
“I know what I heard,” I said again. My mind may have been unreliable and my eyes may have deceived me, but my ears still worked.
Jess was alive.
“I’m calling Teresa. You’re getting help.”
I said nothing. I had to find my daughter.
“I am trying so hard to help you. This is real. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I’m sorry Jack but I care too much about you to see you destroy yourself like this.”
Jess was alive.
I had heard her voice. I remembered her words. I remembered her shrill cry just before the call had cut. She needed me. Maybe someone had her. Maybe she was running. But why hadn’t she contacted me sooner? Why had she not come home? I was filled with questions. I could no longer relax. I had to take action. I had to get over all this crap and pull myself together for my little girl. It started today. Right now. Jess needed me. Nothing else on earth mattered more.
“I want to go home,” I said and made an effort to rise from the bed.
“Jack, listen to me-” Sarah started with an unmistakable edge in her voice.
“Save it,” I hissed, and she recoiled in surprise, “I’m going.”
I threw the covers off and sank to the floor. My body felt weird. I wasn’t fully functional yet. But I didn’t care. There were clothes in the wardrobe for me and I hastily threw them on as I ignored Sarah. I headed towards the door. She didn’t try to stop me.
I had to find Jess.
I had tried over and over again to call that number back. The one linked to Jess. But there was just no connection. The phone had most likely been destroyed. It was hours later and night had fallen. It was cold. One of the coldest nights it had been in recent weeks. I was impatient. Restless. I couldn’t do anything until the medication wore off. I needed my strength. But every second I wasted here was another that Jess was out there. I clenched and unclenched my hands. I rotated my neck and felt out my body; unwinding my stiff limbs. I sat back in my couch, closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wander freely. I had to regain control of myself. Whatever it took. For Jess.
Being a cop I knew that life was a fragile thing. It took decades to build but only a moment to end, all doable at the push of a button. The last three weeks had opened my eyes to all of my mistakes. The mistakes that people made. We lived our lives wasting our time, wallowing in self-pity and remaining ungrateful for the gifts we have; the days that we spend with those we love. I had taken it all for granted. Taken Nicole for granted. The most cruel lesson we could learn was that we only truly appreciated what we had once we lost it. I knew that now. I felt it. We’re always taught that simple lesson. Taught it by our parents and our peers, but we never come to understand it until we face it. The failing of man: w
e’re stubborn and we don’t learn from the wretched past. That’s why it’s doomed to repeat itself. That’s why we made the same mistakes over and over again; a twisted, circular fate.
I tried not to think about my wife. I tried not to think about Jess. But it was impossible. Their faces haunted me, while their last, terrifying moments eluded me. And I was tortured for it. It frightened me that up until now I had not considered my wife’s final moments. I had spared myself from thinking about it, because of my guilt. But I wished that I had the answers to my fears. I had so many questions. Did Nicole know that I loved her with all my heart before she died? What were her last thoughts? Her last words? Had she been scared? Did she plead? Was Jess there when it happened? Did she hate me?
My hands began to shake. I felt a cold sweat break across my forehead. My heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe. The flashbacks were unrelenting and merciless. Taking me back once again to that moment, at the docks, where I could have stopped all of it from happening. Where I had made the worst decision of my life. I could have prevented the nightmare if I had just made the right choice. Regret was a cancer. Hindsight was a torment. I tried not to think about what I had done.
Don’t be a hero, Jack. The words danced around in my head, eager to mock my guilt. I twisted and turned in my seat, unable to find comfort. I just couldn’t forget. I couldn’t be free of the nightmare. I couldn’t have peace. Not for a moment. My mind, my very memories, had become my enemy. I needed something to do. I needed to get out of the house. I needed to find Jess. I knew that I could not survive the night trapped with my nightmares. I didn’t feel fully recovered. I was still weak. I was drenched in sweat and my hands were still shaking. My heart felt like it was going to explode. The room was spinning. I snatched the television remote and turned on the TV, praying for a distraction, ignoring what had happened to me the last time. Desperation had corrupted reason.
It was the news. Crime was the story. A woman not even twenty years old had been raped and left for dead. But she’d survived and had been found. She was in hospital now. Ruined.
The pit grew in my stomach. I felt sick. I thought of Nicole. I changed the channel.
Murder. A man had been hacked to death in what appeared to be an incident connected to a violent gang. His body had been left in his wife’s bed for her to find.
The pit grew larger. I changed the channel again.
Emilio Rojas, a known associate of Victor Salvatore, had been cleared of assault and battery charges due to a lack of evidence and witnesses.
The pit threatened to consume me. Anger flooded my veins.
I hopelessly changed the channel one last time.
The weather. A torrential storm was coming. The city was sinking into a depression.
I hurled the remote at the wall in a blind rage, blowing it apart. I put my face into my hands. I tried to draw breath. But the very air was tainted. This was the city that I had made my wife live in. This was the city that I had tried to raise my daughter in.
Only now did I see it for what it truly was.
People talked about it. A dark and terrifying place, down in the depths, that is endless; that is our worst nightmare. A place of fire. A place of pain. A place that vicious men were banished to so that they may pay for their sins, and become the playthings of a beast far more cruel than themselves.
People spoke of Hell.
They spoke of it as though they had any idea what it was. They didn’t. There was no one in Hell. And there was no one monster ruling over it.
Whatever it is and wherever it lies...Hell is empty, and all its monsters are here.
My mind processed that one thought; hung onto it as though it were gospel. Only by understanding this, what I truly faced in the darkness, could I hope to find my daughter. Only then could I face the city for what it really was. And I could no longer hide. My hands had stopped shaking. My heart rate stabilised. I felt a sense of calm. A serenity, a focus, that I had not felt in all my time of being here. I slowly raised myself to my feet, as if in a trance. I retrieved my gun. I thought of Jess. The rest was easy. I stepped out into the cold, and I embraced it.
I pulled the car to a halt about half an hour away from where I wanted to be. I wanted to walk. Tonight I looked upon my city for the very first time; disillusioned. There was no hope here. There were no dreams. There was just the pit. And I was no longer one of its victims.
It was freezing tonight. I held my jacket tightly. A gentle rain descended from the sky, fooling all into believing that there was a tranquillity, a beauty even, here in this place. But this city was good at hiding its true face. It could no longer conceal itself from me. The car would have been faster. I knew that. But I needed to be out here. I needed to see the darkness of this awful city. I needed breathe it in, and feel every quiver of its beating heart.
I considered my objective. I knew that I only had one lead to Jess: Will Harding.
He was a mole for the mob. He may know something about my daughter. Or he may know others who might. I was going to beat it out of him. And if he refused I would have to do worse. But I knew that I needed to calm my mind. I could not act rashly. Teresa had been right about one thing. I could not let my emotions control me. I had to keep myself together for Jess. I was no longer important. Only she was. I surveyed my surroundings. There were only a few people around, all of them men. Women and children most likely would not be out at this time of night. They were forced to be prisoners to remain safe.
Suddenly, as if on cue, as if the city was eager to show me that I had not figured it out just yet, I heard a woman’s scream in the air. I saw someone nearby hurry along, too afraid to even investigate the plea of a poorer soul. Before I knew what I was doing, I was reaching for my gun. It was coming from the alley ahead of me. I had not been able to hear it earlier over the sound of the rain, but being closer to it enabled me to. There was a banging noise. I approached more quickly. Just what I needed. To get involved in some other crap. But my police instincts were still intact and I approached the alley, backing up against the corner of the wall. I fished my flashlight out of my jacket pocket. I listened. It sounded like a struggle. I wanted to get it over with quickly.
I emerged from my hiding place and raised my gun and flashlight under it. My light found a startled man holding a woman up against the wall. He had a knife to her throat. He stared at me now with savage eyes. The woman was bleeding and battered, but she didn’t look seriously injured. She didn’t look like a prostitute at all, so I threw the thought out.
“This is none of your fucking business!” the man spat.
“It is my business, prick, I’m with the police. Now get down on the ground,” I said, flashing my badge at him.
He sneered and spat at my feet, “Like I said: none of your fucking business.”
I raised my gun to his face, “You want to tell me that again?”
Without warning he growled and grabbed the woman, turning to face me, holding her in front of him like a shield. He placed the knife against her throat.
“What’s it going to be, cowboy?” he mocked.
The woman pleaded at me with her eyes. I considered options. I fought with everything I had to remain calm, but my heart was like a jackhammer and I could feel my anxiety set in.
“You ruined my date, do you know that? I had so much planned for Amanda here. It would have been a night to remember. She was being a little rowdy, so I had to tune her up a little bit.”
I studied him from what I had to go on so far. His face seemed familiar. He looked to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. He had a hard, chiselled voice. A medium build. Black messy hair. A noticeable birthmark on his neck. No apparent jewellery. Overall a distinct appearance. Why didn’t I remember where I had seen his face?
“Just turn around and walk away. Rookie.”
That last quip stung.
I steadied my aim, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let he
r go. I’m willing to bet that my aim is good enough to hit you in the face from where I’m standing.”
Amanda's eyes widened. The man looked taken back. I didn't know where the arrogance came from, but it gave me a sense of control.
“The only question is,” I continued with a deliberate slowness, “are you willing take that risk?”
The seconds went by. I prepared myself to make the shot. I knew that I could.
And then it all went to hell.
“No, but I am willing to bet that you don’t have the stomach for this,” the man said.
I watched as he removed the knife from her throat and plunged it into her body, yanking it out again with ferocity. Amanda screamed loud enough to chill my insides. He threw her at me and she stumbled to the ground. I looked at her for only a second. The man had already started running. I rushed to Amanda's side. I could still see him. I raised my gun. I had him.
I thought of Jess.
I froze up.
Rash action had got my wife killed. Why was I getting involved? I was making the same mistake. Poking my nose into things that I shouldn’t. I didn’t know this man, or at least I didn’t remember who he was. What if he had connections to the mob and they reacted again? I could lose my chance to find Jess. How was I going to explain this to Sarah? But could I just let him go? After what I had seen him do? I didn’t have the chance to make the decision. He turned a corner and he was gone. It had all happened in seconds. I had failed to act. Had it been Jess I would have failed her. I was pathetic. Afraid. Weak. Amanda moaned on the ground. She was drifting out of consciousness from the pain. I applied pressure to her ribs, trying to control the bleeding.
“You’re going to be okay, Amanda, just remain calm,” I said.
She coughed. She was in serious pain, but I could tell that this was not a fatal injury. The knife didn’t go deep enough. The risk unfortunately was infection or bleeding out, and it was freezing too. I reached into my pocket with one hand and retrieved my phone. I first needed an ambulance. I called, identified myself, demanded assistance and in-formed them of my location. I was about to call Sarah then, but I hesitated. Was it wise? She’d find out anyway. And maybe this would convince her that I wasn’t insane. I hit dial.
“Jack?”
I didn’t give her time to say anything else.
“Sarah, we’ve got trouble. I’ve got a woman bleeding out here from a knife wound. The man who did this got away by using her as a shield from me. I’ve already called the ambulance and they’re on the way. I need you out here. Please hurry!”
She didn’t say anything. Did she not believe me?
“Okay, tell me where you are. I’m on my way.”
I sighed, relieved. I gave her the location. She told me to sit tight. I put down the phone. I swore. Amanda was bleeding more than I had anticipated. For a moment I didn’t know what to do. Then it clicked. Stupid. She was wearing a scarf. I had wasted precious time. I grabbed it off her neck and pressed it over her wound. It was long, allowing me to tie it around her waist. I pressed my hand against her rib. Hopefully it would slow the bleeding enough.
I knew that I needed to get out onto the street so that we could be found. I scooped Amanda up into my arms. She was light. She groaned in agony as I lifted her, but I knew that it had to be done. It was extremely risky to move the body, but we could be missed in the alley, and if I went out onto the road alone I would not have been able to keep pressure on the wound. Amanda was barely conscious enough to be trusted to do it herself. I told her I was sorry. I had to move with care, so as not to disturb the wound too badly. I gingerly took my steps, and in a matter of seconds I found myself crouching down and lowering her onto the pavement as gently as I could. I put her head onto my lap so she wouldn’t have to lie on the hard ground.
“What’s your name?” she muttered.
“Jack,” I answered, “Don’t try to talk. Just stay with me. Help will be here.”
“Thank you for saving me, Jack.”
I half smiled, “You’re not safe yet.”
“I’ll take this over that guy,” she said, as I prayed that she didn’t go into shock.
And then I heard it. The wailing of sirens. It was the ambulance that arrived first. Two paramedics emerged out the back and rushed over to me. I let them do the work, explaining what had happened. Amanda moaned for me not to leave her. I ran my hand through my hair. Will Harding would have to wait. I really didn’t want this. I wanted to go after Jess. I couldn’t stand the idea of another delay. But what else could I do? And maybe this way I could set things right with Sarah as well. I’d need her help. I asked the paramedics which hospital we were going to. They told me and I relayed it to Sarah with a text message. I kept Amanda relaxed on the way to the hospital. I could not stop myself from feeling regret for getting involved. I was getting further away from Harding; from my lead on Jess. I was so restless. The night was fading. It wasn’t long before I was left in the waiting room, pacing around and looking out for Sarah. She arrived ten minutes or so later. We’d have to wait here now to question Amanda. At least it gave me the time I needed to talk to Sarah.
“Jack, what on earth happened? Are you okay?” Sarah asked.
It was good to see her again.
I smiled, “You won’t believe it but I stumbled across this just walking out in the streets.”
She narrowed her eyes, “Why were you walking around at this time of night?”
I shrugged, “Sorry, mom, I needed the fresh air.”
Her mouth twitched and a smile broke out on her face as she saw the funny side of what I had said, and realised what she had sounded like. I gestured at the chairs against the wall. She nodded and followed me. I began filling her in on what had happened. But when I described what the man had looked like, and mentioned the birthmark on his neck, she paled.
“What?” I asked.
“Jack, that man is a known serial killer.”
I went rigid.
“Hal Edwards. He murders women. Butchers them with knives.”
The air grew thick, and I could not breathe.
“My wife, she-”
But Sarah shook her head, “Hal takes his women under the premise of a date. He chats them up, works his charm and takes them home where he subjects them to torture and rape before their death. Married women don’t seem to be his type, and we know that Nicole wasn’t raped, Jack. So far, six of his adult victims have been. Amanda would have been the seventh. I don’t know what went wrong tonight. He said she had been uncooperative or something?”
I nodded, and I felt no guilt for my small sense of relief. I would never have forgiven myself if he had truly been my wife’s killer. But that would have been too easy. Too neat.
“There’s more, Jack.”
I snapped to attention.
“I said six of his adult victims have been. Hal has a record with kids too. He has never raped a child for whatever reason. Instead he always marks them. Leaves messages on their body using his knife. He once wrote a nursery rhyme on an eight-year-old’s stomach.”
This place truly is Hell, I thought to myself.
“How many victims in total?” I asked, despite my fear of the answer.
“We don’t know for certain what the total count is, but we have six adult females on record, and five kids. Eleven known cases with Hal’s MO.”
“I should have killed him,” the words left my mouth before I had the chance to think on them.
Sarah didn't say anything.
“I had him in my sights, Sarah. But the woman was bleeding out and I was distracted,” I said, lying to her and to myself about the real reason.
She put her hand over mine, “You saved her life, Jack. She would have been put through hell before her death had you not been there. Don’t beat yourself up. You did good.”
But I didn’t feel good. And something else was bothering me.
“Sarah. If I denied him a victim tonight won’t he kil
l again?”
She turned her head away, “Maybe. Probably.”
By saving Amanda had I condemned someone else? Every choice I made always came burdened with terrible consequences, no matter how hard I tried. After all this time I was still a joke. Sarah and I sat in silence then, her hand resting on mine while we waited for news.
The call came the next night, just after sunset. I was at home trying to fight the harsh rain and the cold with a cup of hot chocolate, planning to savour it for ten minutes before I left to go after Will Harding. My wife had always teased me for being a child by sticking with it and not ‘upgrading’ to coffee. I had always told her that I preferred my drinks to actually have a taste. It was simply one of the many little idiosyncrasies we had shared that kept us close. I was contemplating my next move when my phone rang. It was Sarah of course.
“Jack. It looks like we won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”
“What happened?”
“You were right. Hal Edwards has killed someone else.”
The room spun. I felt the responsibility bear down on my shoulders.
“Damn it, already? Who?” I breathed.
Sarah didn’t respond to that and instead told me to come. She gave me the location and brief details. The body had been found half an hour ago in the same alley from the night before, but so far it looked as though the murder had actually taken place during the day, about five hours prior. I raced to retrieve my gun and badge before charging out of my house to my car. It never ended. I had to find Jess, not deal with this. But this was my fault. I knew that. I also knew that I could not delay my visit to Harding any longer. It had to be tonight. After helping Sarah with whatever was at the crime scene. I broke the speed limit. The pit in my stomach had returned. Soon enough I saw the blue and red lights in the distance. My car screeched to a halt nearby, and I briskly walked through the crowd of officers and personnel, the rain drenching my clothes in seconds. Sarah found me behind the yellow tape.
“Jack, I don’t think you’ll want to see this,” she shouted.
“Why not?” I called back.
She didn’t answer. I pushed past her and she called out after me in protest. I approached the body. Time slowed. My heart stopped beating. I felt the cold seep into my skin.
It was a little girl.
She was such a small, delicate figure. She was around the same age as my daughter. Her body was pale as though all of the blood had been drained out of her. There was a single gaping hole in her chest. I put my hand to my mouth, fighting back the tears. My heart deadened. A loud crack burst forth from the air. The storm the news had spoke of had arrived. There was a flash of lightning, and I saw not the body of some girl I did not know. I saw the body of Jess.
The universe was a cruel poet; an ironic author writing a twisted, circular string of verses, sending you the same messages again and again until you finally learned from it. I was under no illusion. This was no world for people like me. No world for those who tried to be good. I had failed this girl. I had failed Jess. Again. I had learned nothing from my naive mistakes. I felt Sarah’s hand on my shoulder. I took no comfort. I just had to know. And when I spoke, my voice was dead.
“You said that he marks his victims if they’re children. What was the message?”
“Jack...”
“I want to know.”
When Sarah didn’t answer I approached the girl’s body and bent down.
“It’s on her right arm under the sleeve,” Sarah said from behind me.
I rolled it up and I saw the message carved into the girl’s skin. There was barely enough space there to contain it; the killer had improvised with the layout.
‘A gift for Jack Mercer.’
I was numb. I didn’t feel alive. I cursed what I had done at the docks. The killer probably knew me from the mob or the papers - my face had been all over them. It didn’t matter. The message was clear. I turned around and walked away from the crime scene, blocking out the world. Sarah called out to me. I didn’t respond. All noise had drowned out. But the storm fought to be heard. I ignored the stares; looks of sympathy, of pain and of pity. There were harsh looks too, and looks of anger and of blame. I escaped. I got into my car and drove. I blocked all thought from my mind. I simply drove until I reached my house. One moment I had been leaving, and the next I had arrived.
I staggered out of my car. My phone was ringing. I ignored it. I felt an emptiness that threatened to devour me. I opened the door to my house and the pit greeted me, welcoming me back. I went to the bathroom. Nausea swept over me and I violently threw up in the toilet. I reached for the basin and splashed cold water on my face. I raised my eyes. I saw my reflection. And I loathed the face that stared back at me. The guilt. The pain. The anger. It burned. It mocked. It hurt. I threw my fist forward and struck my reflection in a burst of hatred and rage. The mirror cracked with a shatter that echoed throughout the pit. My hand stung; tiny fragments of glass bit into my skin. Warm droplets of blood fell to the basin. I saw my true self in the broken fragments that remained. I was weak. How could I ever save Jess? In my mind I saw the killer; the face of my darkness. I saw my failures. I saw the decisions I had made that had brought me here, and how I had failed to learn. Drops of water fell down my face. The darkness spread; the pit became infinite. And my eyes opened. I finally saw, buried deep within the darkness, what I had to become to stop men like this.
What I had to become to save Jess.
I left the bathroom. My phone was still ringing. I drowned out the sound. I reached for my gun. I dropped my badge onto the floor. I retrieved the second phone I had acquired. I opened my door and stepped out of the pit and into the downpour. I looked up at the sky. Lightning struck. For a second the world was engulfed in brilliant white light. I felt the rain on my face. I felt it sink into my skin. It was a baptism. And I was no longer the same. Deep within the clouds the storm raged, unleashing its fury upon the world. I only had one thing on my mind.
Hal Edwards.
It was personal. It was my mistake. It was my lesson. The beast writhing within me, calling for blood, was awakened. And I let it free.
I moved.
My mind was awake as I drove. I had not only accessed the police database, but I had already built a profile of this man in my mind from the facts that I had. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that his charm, coupled together with his MO and predilection for pretty women, meant that he was something of a ladies’ man. He indulged in them. Sometimes he killed them, and other times it was for pleasure only. There was a bar very near to the alley in which he had tried to kill Amanda, and had left the body of the little girl. Amanda had told us that he had been charming, funny and polite. But he became insistent when she had wanted to call it a night and not take things further. Then he had turned nasty and finally violent. That meant he was clearly not used to rejection and had thin tolerance for it. He was definitely a man that made impressions then. Someone who was easily remembered.
The only reason he had not been caught was due to insufficient evidence for a conviction. For the police it was a case of knowing that he was a killer, but being unable to prove it and he got off on that. He had been brought in a few times as a suspect, and had even been put on trial in court, but there had never been enough evidence to put him away. He had powerful friends as well. Any other killer would have been caught by now. It was doubtful that he’d have let Amanda go either. He was most likely waiting for her to get out of the hospital, and then he’d make his move. She had rejected him. He wouldn’t have liked that. And I doubted that he was very much into forgiveness.
I accelerated. I took a back road and went around, avoiding the possibility of any of the police seeing me if they were still there. I was taking no chances. I reached the bar. I got out. I had a rough plan of action in my head. I’d speak to the bartender first and ask him if he knew Hal or any of the women he had chatted to. I’d speak to any women I found in the bar. After that I suspec
ted that strip clubs would be the obvious choice. There probably weren’t many nearby and I was sure the working girls would remember him. In truth, it wouldn’t have taken me long to find him. He didn’t care for staying hidden. He just enjoyed himself. I entered the bar, scanning those inside. There weren’t many, but it would be a start. My eyes came to rest on a figure at the counter.
I stared. I blinked. There he was.
I could hardly believe it. The son of a bitch was having a drink right here, carelessly, while the police investigated the body of the girl he had murdered so close by. The anger erupted inside of me. It ended tonight. I gritted my teeth and walked over. I took the chair next to him. He gazed down at his drink. I waved off the bartender. I turned my chair to face Hal Edwards.
“Remember me?”
He looked up.
“I got your message.”
Surprise registered on his face for a moment before he smiled cockily.
“What message?”
I was still with the police. He obviously wouldn’t confess to murder. And he didn’t seem to care in the slightest that I had seen what he had done to Amanda in the alley. It was not like he’d ever see the inside of a prison cell for it. And if he did, he’d be out easily enough. I stood and covered the distance between us. I placed my hand onto the counter.
“I’m not a cop tonight. You and I need to talk.”
“Go fuck yourself, Jackieboy. I’m having a drink.”
I snapped. I toppled his glass with my hand.
“What drink?”
He looked annoyed. That was good. I wanted his ego to make this easy for me.
“Alright, dick. You should have hid behind your badge, because after I fuck you up, I’m making you pay for my drink.”
“It’s your move, cupcake. Now get up! Let’s talk outside.”
He stood, “I’m gonna show you what a piss-ant you are.”
He walked. I followed. The chilling night air greeted us both. The cold, rain and storm set the perfect stage.
But this was not going to be a fight. This was an execution.
I drew my gun and slammed the butt of it against his head from behind, and he cried out and crumpled to the ground, instantly dazed. I brought my foot down onto the back of his head with enough force to break bone. I let my foot linger for a moment longer, letting him eat dirt. He crawled away swearing. I raised my gun. He turned and stopped. Then he started laughing, spitting out dirt and blood. He was floored; probably had a concussion. He wouldn’t be putting up any fight now.
“If you had any balls, Jackieboy, I might have been scared...”
I approached him as I drowned out the world and all its noise.
“So what are you going to do? Try to frighten me with your little gun and badass attitude? Make me confess to killing that little bitch? Is that what you want? You want to arrest me?”
I saw only one end to it.
I grabbed his throat, raised him off the ground and slammed him against the wall. I wasn’t any fool. I knew he’d be thinking about reaching for his knife by now. But I had the seconds. I had him. I had him right here. All that was left was to do it. The effect of a gun was often over-dramatised. As the cold metal rested against his forehead, I knew that even though the bullet loaded in the chamber could end his life, wipe his vile existence off the face of the earth, pulling the trigger was simply a choice. Either I did, or I didn’t.
“Fuck you!” Hal spat.
I could see his hand move down to his belt. The seconds stretched on. My heart raced. My gun hand felt weak. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I knew that once I went down this road and into this place I would never return. But I no longer cared. I had already lost everything. I knew all there was to pain. And now I would no longer bear it alone. I wanted to share my pain with someone like him. Jess entered my mind once again. For her I had sworn that I would do anything, become anything, to protect her.
There was no half measure.
With a vicious growl I squeezed the trigger. An explosion erupted in the night; a sound so loud it shocked my eardrums. His head violently jerked, and blood and brain matter splattered the wall of the bar. His body went limp and dropped to the ground in a heap. All noise died out. It took a second to register the act. My mind rebooted. It was done. It had been over in a second. It had ended so unceremoniously. It was almost anti-climactic. One moment he had been reaching for his knife, and the next he had just been gone. Like turning a year older I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t feel anything at all.
I ran before anyone from the bar had the chance to come out and see me. I realised a truth that I had not faced or understood before. A truth that all the literature and good men tried to hide. The academics, writers and psychologists who spoke of the brutality of murder, the guilt of killing a man in cold blood and the haunting which followed making a choice that you could never take back. It was all a lie. Murder was easy. It was simply the push of a button. A peculiar sense of calm washed over me, and I felt liberated. The lightning had ceased. The storm had faded. The rain remained.
I drove. Lights blurred past. Rain pelted my car relentlessly. My body was overwhelmed with a rush of adrenaline. I was shaken, but I felt entirely in control for the first time in I didn’t know how long. It was a feeling that I basked in, eager to hold. I reflected upon my decision. I had seen Sarah kill a few times before while on the force, to save lives and in self-defence. There it had always felt justified - accepted even. But what I had done felt no different to that. Only morally. But morals were not going to save my daughter. I could not tell Sarah. Not yet.
I knew that I had left a shell casing on the ground, but it wouldn’t have made much difference. The ballistics and bullet lodged in Hal Edward’s brain would tell forensics which gun had been used. It was no threat to me. I’d used the gun that I kept at home in the drawer. Only Nicole had known that I had had it. It was just a Beretta, silver and black in colour. There was nothing significant about the gun or its ammunition. It couldn’t be traced back to me. I knew that there was the possibility that someone from the bar would remember the altercation I had had with Edwards before we had left, but it was unlikely anyone under the influence of alcohol would recall anything significant, least of all be able to describe me. And no one paid any attention to fights or heated arguments in bars. It was par for the course mostly.
I was safe. I could now finally turn my attention back to Will Harding. My only lead on Jess. There would be no more mistakes from me. No more failures. I pulled up outside Will Harding’s home. It was late, but the lights were on. I just hoped that they didn’t have visitors, but either way I knew what I was going to do. I reached into the glove compartment and brought out the black ski mask I had placed there for my return here. It wasn’t for Will. It was for his family. Even if Will did tell his wife about me, as far as they knew I hadn’t followed up my conflict with him from earlier and I had just been a grieving man looking for someone to blame. I had taken my frustrations out on Harding and had left. But I doubted he had been very talkative. He knew what I had on him. The confession of his that I carried with me.
I put on the ski mask as I approached the door with my gun in hand. I considered kicking it down and catching them by surprise, but dismissed the idea. I didn’t want to cause a full out panic, set off any alarms or give the people inside a chance to arm themselves or run. I only needed the one person who answered the door. I rang the doorbell multiple times, communicating my impatience. I heard someone answer on the other side, hurrying to meet me. The door opened.
It was Will’s wife. She screamed.
I grabbed her. She struggled, but I raised the gun to her head and she went still like an obedient dog. I reached behind me and closed the door. Will came running out, shock spreading across his face as he took in the scene. I saw his fear
“Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt my wife!” he cried.
He stepped back as I advanced, saying no
thing. I took a moment to enjoy his appearance. He was still bruised from our last encounter, and had heavy bandaging around his nose. Unfortunately there were other people here. It looked like they were having a poker game on. Another couple and a man. It complicated things, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I was in control. I let the panicked screams and shouts take their course. And then everything went still. They waited for me.
“This is what’s going to happen,” I began. I kept my voice low and gruff, trying to prevent Will from recognising it in the panic.
I wasn’t going to harm any of these innocent people. But they didn’t know that. In this the mask gave me power.
“You’re all going to lay your mobile phones down on the table. If any of you try to call for help or scream or run, I will start shooting.”
No one moved.
“Do as I say now or take your chances with a gun!” I barked, playing the role as well as I could.
My heart hammered against my chest. The anxiety I felt was nearly overwhelming. So much could go wrong here. All that I could do to stop myself from panicking was reinforce myself of the fact that I was in control. I could handle this. But the more variables there were, the more room there was for complications. I just hoped no one here was stupid enough to try and be a hero. I didn’t want bloodshed, and I wasn’t prepared to shoot any of them. But to my relief they obeyed, and put their phones down.
“Good. If you continue to listen to my instructions, no one is going to get hurt. I can promise you that. But that can change if you try anything stupid. Nod if you understand.”
After a few seconds they nodded.
“Whatever you say, man, just relax okay?” the lone man said, holding his hands up in surrender.
Will’s wife was crying now. He was trying to calm her down.
“Will Harding. Put your hands behind the back of your head and get down onto the floor. If you do that I will let your wife go. Once I do she is to take the rest of you upstairs and into the kid’s room. Got it?”
No one said or did anything. I pulled the woman’s hair hard and she moaned in pain. I pointed the gun at the rest of them. They shouted out in protest and were hasty then to agree. All the while I thought of Jess. It made this easier. Will slowly turned around. He reassured everyone, put his hands behind his head and dropped to the floor.
“When I let you go you are not to go to your husband. You are to take everyone here upstairs. Is that understood?”
She sobbed.
“Is that understood?” I growled.
“It’s okay, baby, listen to him,” Will said.
She cried her agreement. I released her. Her body trembled as she slowly moved over to the rest of the group. I stepped forward and placed my gun against Will’s head. An easy swap. I motioned towards the stairs. I was relieved that the child had not come downstairs. Perhaps I was that little bit fortunate. I didn’t want to see him again and risk losing my resolve.
“Go,” I commanded.
They shuffled towards the stairs.
“Remember,” I warned, “If any of you come down here before I allow you to, I will kill all of you. The child as well.”
Will’s wife shrieked, and they hurried it up. I was under no delusions here. I knew that she’d call the police. Or that she probably had some kind of panic button upstairs. She was married to a cop after all. Safety precautions were scripture. But it was alright. I only needed a few minutes. Once I was satisfied that they were gone, I shoved Will towards the living room couches. I took the one opposite his so that I was facing him directly. I removed my mask. Will Harding’s jaw dropped, and his mouth opened and closed without a sound as the shock registered.
“Christ...” he whispered.
“Don’t speak,” I ordered, “Listen.”
He shut up.
“While I speak, think back to what happened to you the last time that I was here. Lying to me would be foolish. There are a lot more people here tonight that could get hurt.”
“Please, Jack, I’m begging you...” he whimpered.
“Are you still supplying the mob with information?” I cut across him.
Will panicked. I shushed him with my gun.
“Yes.”
Anger burst to life inside of me. I wanted to hurt him. But Jess was the priority. I inhaled, bringing myself under control.
“What did you tell them about me?”
Will hesitated. He was stalling. Wasting my time.
“The next time you take longer than two seconds to answer my question, I’ll get one of them down here and kill them in front of you.”
That got his cooperation. He was suddenly full of words, squirming in his chair. I had not meant it of course.
“Everything! They forced me to, Jack! I didn’t have a choice!”
I grit my teeth, ignoring his pathetic excuse, “When did you start?”
“They took interest in you after you busted the weapons shipment.”
“Who did? I want a name!”
“I don’t know! I give information to some guy - I don’t know his name - and he sends it back to them! They set the meetings and they tell me what information I need to get for them.”
“What do you know about the weapons shipment?”
“Nothing! They told me nothing!”
“I want a name while I still have patience,” I rested the gun on my leg; it pointed at his chest.
“I don’t have a name, I swear...”
I cocked the gun.
He jumped, “Wait! Victor Salvatore! I heard him speak once. He said that he liked you, but we needed to be cautious of you. He said you’re a hothead. Got a bit of attitude.”
My hand tightened around the gun. Victor Salvatore. His name repeatedly popped up. But I would have to investigate him later. It was time for the final questions. The ones that mattered. I had maybe five minutes, seven at most. It was all that I needed.
“Did you know what they were going to do to my family?”
“No! I swear, Jack, I didn’t know!”
“I don’t believe you! Maybe I need to give you some incentive before you tell me the truth! How much do you love your wife, Will? Your son?”
“Oh God please! Listen to me I didn’t-”
I made as though I was getting up.
“I suspected it!”
I stopped. I went cold.
“Explain yourself.”
“Look, I didn’t know what they were going to do. I never knew. All that I heard was that something needed to be done about you after I told them about the warehouse raid. You were getting too close, becoming too much of a nuisance. I suspected that they were going after you. I thought they were going to have a talk with you, you know, with some guys to rough you up or something. I didn’t think they were going to do what they did to your family. I never wanted that...”
No matter how he justified it, it was his information that led to my family’s death. The anger was blinding. But I fought to remain in control. I had one last question.
“Where’s my daughter?” I whispered.
“What?”
“Where’s my daughter!” I yelled.
He jumped, “Jack, your daughter is dead...”
“Don’t you dare tell me that! I know that she’s alive. She called me! She called me and told me to find her. You know where she is!” I accused, my rational mind going up in flames.
Will went pale. He was frightened of me, now more than ever.
“I’m sorry. I swear on my son’s life...she’s dead. I’m so sorry.”
He was responsible. He had told me right to my face that the information he had given them had led to my family being murdered. The mob wanted to know about me. And he had handed me to them on a silver platter. What I did. Where I lived. My working hours. My family. The warehouse raid. What I was planning. It was all his fault. And I was just supposed to let him go? Let him get a happy ending with his family, and allow him to live out his days h
aving poker nights and watching his son grow up while I had lost everything? He got paid to betray us all. He had taken his money while my wife had been murdered. It was all because of him. My gun shook in my hand.
“All of you, you can’t always get away with it...” I started to tear up uncontrollably and my voice broke. I then relinquished control to my anger, “You can’t always get away with it!”
“Jack, please...”
It had been so easy with Hal Edwards. But this was different. Despite everything, Will Harding was still a police officer. This would change everything. But I had made a promise.
No more half measures.
For Jess. I had to do this for her. My life meant nothing. All that mattered was that I found her. That she was safe. And that the people who killed her mother, my wife, paid for what they did. Because of men like Will Harding my little girl would grow up without her mother. I let that anger rule me. I let it help me make this decision.
“You don’t have to do this...”
I fired three shots.
His body writhed as the first bullet tore into his neck, the second struck his chest and the third hit him in his midsection. I didn’t need to confirm that he was dead. I knew it. His head sagged. Blood spurted from the gaping hole in his throat, and the front of his clothes changed colour. Screams came from upstairs. My ears rang; I ignored the pain. In this enclosed space, the shots had been so loud that the entire neighbourhood had probably heard them.
I stared in horror as realisation dawned. I had just killed a cop. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. There would be no coming back from this. Ever. Even if I found Jess I’d never be able to give her a life in this city. Not after this. I heard it then. Fear gripped me like a vice. Sirens. Wailing in the distance; the song of the end. The police had arrived. I stood. I looked down at the ski mask in my hands. I had made a promise. I had to find Jess. No matter the cost. My daughter was the only thing left that mattered. I had to save her. There could be no more half measures. I slipped the mask on. And I escaped into the night, embracing the sanctity of the cold.
