But as he turned a corner, he thought, What if it goes right?
75
Karen
Karen put down the phone and tried to control her breathing before covering Paulo’s cage once more. Thinking she was going to be sick, she rushed to the bathroom and stood over the toilet, but nothing came up. She should get out of there. She turned and went to the window ledge where she’d left her phone and saw a familiar car pull up across the street.
Nick.
Her stomach felt like lead, as did her feet. She needed to go. Now. But she couldn’t.
She thought she heard something outside the door and panicked. Was it him? Was it Nick? Should she stay inside or leave?
Karen raced to the door and opened it, coming face to face with Michael Fisher.
She gasped. She couldn’t help it.
She backed up a few steps from the door, every instinct telling her to slam the door or run. To do something other than just stand there.
‘Hello, Karen,’ he said and stepped through the door into the apartment, closing it behind him. She looked past him, wondering if she could make it, but he was blocking the door. He suddenly seemed much bigger than he had before. She thought of him standing there in front of the building, his fingers in her hair, his lips on hers. She thought she was going to be sick again.
She knew she should say something. Maybe make it seem like everything was okay. But she couldn’t think, her mind a blank. All she could see was this monster in front of her; another one waiting outside.
‘You know, if you didn’t want to see me, you could’ve said. There was no need to lie.’ Michael stepped a little closer as Karen backed up, her eyes drifting to the bedroom door.
He smiled, his gaze following hers, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking.
‘What’s going on, Karen? You seem jumpy.’
‘Nothing. I… I told you.’
‘Yeah. You saw me with someone else. And that bothers you?’
Karen nodded and tried to calculate the distance to the door, if there was something she could use to defend herself, to attack him with.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why does it bother you?’
He was too close. She knew he could reach out and grab her, that she could be dead before she could make a sound. She backed up again, her legs hitting the window ledge. There was nowhere else to go.
‘Would it bother you more or less to know it wasn’t just women? There were men too,’ he said. ‘Do you watch the news, Karen?’
Was he about to confess? Tell her who he really was? She felt her legs turn to jelly because she knew what that meant. It was almost time.
76
Michael
Karen didn’t respond to his question. Perhaps she thought it was rhetorical. And maybe it was. He could tell she knew. He could see the fear and he wasn’t sure how it made him feel. It hadn’t been like this with the others. With them, they hadn’t known anything was wrong until it was too late, until his hands were around their necks or the knife already in their guts. The window for fear had been too narrow. Sometimes he barely even got to tell them why they’d been chosen. But Karen was always going to be different, for one reason or another.
‘Did you really see me with someone else?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘Ah. I did wonder that night. Thought maybe I should call it off. But… you know. Alison was flighty. I had to take my opportunity when it came.’
‘It wasn’t just Alison,’ Karen said, and Michael tilted his head, curious.
‘No? Who else?’
‘The blonde. Elena Jones.’
Michael was surprised.
‘I saw you from across the street, in the bar. I followed you but–’ Karen said, stopping herself. ‘I didn’t put it together until I saw the picture on your wall.’
Michael considered it. Not many people were linking Elena’s death to him. In fact, it seemed there was only him and Nick Kelly who knew the truth. He smiled. Did Karen think he’d just killed Elena, like a common mugger? He laughed, although he had to admit he felt a little slighted. Was that all she thought of him?
‘You know, I was sorry about Elena,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t how I’d planned it at all. And I did plan it, in great detail. Just like the others. But needs must.’
He waited for a flicker of realization from her but her face remained the same. Was she really not getting it? He’d thought she was smarter than this.
‘But at least you’ll be done right,’ he said.
‘What’s it going to be? I was never keen on Rembrandt.’
Michael felt his shoulders relax. Finally. Recognition. He knew he liked her. In some ways he would miss her.
‘Le Suicide. Édouard Manet. Although, I will admit,’ Michael said, holding up his hands, ‘that it was originally intended for someone else. But it seemed appropriate.’
Michael glanced at the closed bedroom door. It was a shame he’d never got a look in there in advance but he assumed he could make it work. All he needed was to pose the body on a bed and make a few little adjustments to the surroundings. It wouldn’t take long. He hoped Nick allowed him the chance to finish the piece, for his own satisfaction if nothing else.
Michael turned back as Karen pressed herself against the window ledge, as if there was somewhere else to go. He saw her look down at the street and he wondered for a moment if she was considering jumping. It wasn’t that far, it was possible she’d come out of it alive.
Then he realized it was something else she was focused on. He saw the car parked across the street.
‘That’s your husband’s car, isn’t it,’ he said, and she turned back to him. He could see her shaking. ‘I bet I know what you’re thinking. That he’s going to come up here and save you. But, the thing is, things between you two are even worse than you thought. No one’s going to stop this. Least of all him. See, your husband came to me with a deal.’
‘I know,’ Karen said, and Michael stopped.
His eyes flicked to Nick’s car. He couldn’t tell if he was still in there or not. Was it possible Nick and Karen had been in this together from the start? But why? Nick already had evidence; he’d seen the wall. He could link him to Elena. So why the charade?
Unless Nick knew he had messed up by breaking in. He needed something solid and what better than catching Michael in the act?
He pushed his hand into his pocket. He needed to do this. Now.
‘I saw him,’ Karen said, shaking Michael from his thoughts. ‘I saw him at your house. I came to talk to you and I saw him leave. And then I saw you talking outside the 7-11 in his car. I wondered what was going on. I thought he was trying to mess with me. I thought he’d paid you to be with me. So I broke into your house to find out.’
‘That was you? You owe me a new window.’
‘I don’t think you’re going to need it.’
Michael laughed. ‘Touché. But tell me. If you’ve known about me since yesterday, why are we both standing here? Why haven’t I been arrested?’
‘Because you were right about one thing. My relationship with Nick really is messed up. I wanted to humiliate him. Imagine if the wife he hated so much was the one to catch the guy that he couldn’t?’
Michael stepped closer. ‘And you think you’re going to stop me alone?’ he said, bringing his hand from his pocket, holding up the gun.
77
Nick
Nick heard a gunshot and his head jerked up. Was that it? Had he done it? None of the others were shot but the guy was hardly consistent. It had to be Fisher. It had to be Karen. But still, Nick paused. Could he do this?
He shook his head. It was already done. All he had to do now was finish it. He’d thought he would have to put on a performance of the grieving husband while cuffing Fisher, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He was going to have to kill him. Maybe it was a good thing Fisher had a gun, it gave Nick a good reason to fire. Surely no one could question that. It would be self-defense.
Nick took a breath, gr
abbing his gun from his holster. It was time to do it. It was time to end it. He could hear sirens in the distance. He had to get up there first. It had to be him and Fisher alone.
As Nick ran across the street, he saw people looking, screaming as they caught sight of the gun in his hand. He pushed his way through, into the building, as he saw the cop cars pull up.
He pushed himself harder. He had to get there before they did.
He tried to think about what he would say but his mind was blank. Maybe he could chalk it up to shock. They’d have to give him a little time before they asked him what had happened. His wife was dead, for God’s sake.
Nick reached the top of the stairs and remembered the burner phone in his car. But it was too late for that. It would have to wait. He could toss it later.
He barged through the door of the building, ran up the stairs. His feet slammed into the floor of the hallway. He could see his front door ahead. It had been left slightly ajar.
He wondered where Fisher would be. Would he be able to shoot before Fisher realized what was happening? But what if he was thinking the same thing? What was he about to run into?
Nick shoved open the door, gun aimed in front of him.
He saw the body first. Except it wasn’t a dead body. He could see movement, the blood pooling.
And it wasn’t Karen, it was Fisher.
Nick looked up to see Karen standing by the window, her eyes firmly on him, and standing in his bedroom doorway was Azrah Khan, gun in hand. He could hear her talking. She was reading Fisher his rights.
How the fuck had this happened?
Behind him, half a dozen people flooded the hallway. Cops, paramedics. There was nowhere to go.
Nick lowered his weapon. He knew he should say something. Ask what had happened. Check if Karen was okay. But nothing came out.
Finally, Azrah stepped forward and Nick saw the cuffs in her hand.
‘Nick Kelly,’ she said. ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of…’
Nick closed his eyes for a moment, letting Azrah’s words wash over him. He felt so fucking tired.
He opened them again when he heard Fisher groaning as the paramedics moved him. He glared at him. He should’ve known Fisher would screw him over somehow. But then he looked over to Karen and saw the look on her face and knew it hadn’t been Fisher who’d screwed him.
78
Karen
Karen watched as they led Nick and Michael away. Michael didn’t appear too worried about being caught, although he was probably more concerned with the bullet in his shoulder at that moment. Nick, on the other hand, was not pleased, making threats to Azrah for fucking up big time, demanding she get Lynch there immediately.
‘You can talk to him when we get back to the station,’ Azrah said. ‘I’m sure he’d like a word with you too.’
Most of the cops left with Michael and the paramedics. Only two guys accompanied Nick. Clearly they thought the only danger from him was from his mouth. When they could no longer hear his complaining, Azrah turned to Karen and blew out a long breath. She’d risked a lot to do this, but Karen figured she wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t Azrah who’d stood there, face to face with a serial killer with a gun.
‘Thank fuck that worked,’ Azrah said.
Standing outside the station the night before, Karen faltered. What if they didn’t believe her? Nick was in charge of the case and these people were his friends. But she had to do something. The thought of Michael’s hands touching her, his lips on hers, made her ill. She ducked somewhere less populated in case she vomited.
‘Karen?’
She looked up and saw Azrah Khan coming out of the building and walking towards her, a concerned expression on her face.
‘You all right?’ Azrah said, and Karen stood upright. She was about to nod, yes. Instead she shook her head. ‘Can we talk?’
Azrah gestured for Karen to go inside.
‘Is Nick in there?’ Karen asked.
‘Do you want to talk to him?’
‘No!’ Karen said. ‘Can we…? Is there somewhere else we can talk? He can’t know I’m here.’
Azrah took her inside and found a room on a different floor, taking a seat beside Karen. ‘So what’s going on? Has Nick done something? Has he hurt you?’
‘No. Well, sort of. I know who this guy is,’ Karen said. ‘The killer you’re looking for.’
She saw Azrah’s brows rise a little but she let Karen go on.
‘I know who he is and I know Nick does too. He wants this guy to kill me.’ This time she saw just one of Azrah’s brows go up. Karen could tell she was skeptical. Even to someone who disliked Nick as much as Azrah did, it still sounded implausible. ‘I know it sounds nuts. But you have to believe me.’
Azrah sighed. ‘Okay. So tell me how you know this.’
‘I was seeing this guy. Well, not really seeing. We’d had a drink and then… It was complicated. I wasn’t sure about him. So I went to his house. I wanted to talk. But when I got there, I saw Nick leaving.’ She scrabbled in her bag for her phone and found the photographs before handing the phone to Azrah. Karen could see Azrah’s expression was one of strained patience and knew that a slightly out of focus picture of Nick outside a house wasn’t proof of anything.
‘I wondered why he was there. I thought, maybe he’d found out about me and Mark and had come to warn him off or something. But then I thought, why? Nick doesn’t care if I’m seeing someone. But it was bugging me. Why would he be there? So I followed him. I saw him working and then he left a crime scene and drove out to Queens. And I saw this.’ She leaned over and swiped to the next photo. One of Nick and Michael sitting in Nick’s car outside the 7-11.
‘I saw Nick hand something to him. I thought maybe he was paying this guy to mess with me. So I went back to the house and I saw it. All of it. This,’ she said, pointing to Michael on the screen. ‘This is the man who’s killed all those people. Nick knows it too. And he’s keeping it to himself because he wants him to kill me.’
Azrah scratched her chin. ‘All right. Back up a little. You went to this guy’s house and saw evidence?’
Karen nodded.
‘How? How did you get in?’
Karen sniffed. ‘I broke a window at the back.’
Azrah sighed. ‘So you broke in?’
‘I know I shouldn’t have. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now, telling you how to find him.’
‘Okay, so what evidence did you find?’
‘Photos. All over his wall. Pictures of the victims and then others… after.’
‘After what?’ Azrah said.
‘After he killed them. I didn’t get a really good look but they looked like reproductions of paintings,’ Karen said and saw Azrah’s interest rise a little. ‘And then I saw my picture. There were pictures of people he’d already killed and then me. It looked like I was supposed to be next.’
Azrah swiped the screen and then looked at Karen. ‘You didn’t get a photo of that?’
‘No. He came back. I had to get out of there. But I can tell you the address. And I saw his name. He told me he was called Mark but it was a lie. He’s Michael Fisher.’
Azrah swiped back to the photo of Nick and Michael in the car. ‘When was this taken?’
Karen took the phone from Azrah and brought up the information, including the time and date.
‘Shit,’ Azrah muttered, and Karen looked at her, expectantly. ‘This was after the last murder,’ Azrah said. ‘You said you followed him to a crime scene? That was our guy again. Nick left without a word. When he came back here he wouldn’t say where he’d been. He said it was personal.’
‘So you believe me?’ Karen asked.
‘I believe Nick was up to something he didn’t want anyone to know about. But there’s no proof this Michael Fisher is who you say he is.’
‘But I told you. I saw the photos in his house.’
‘Which you broke into and have no proof of.’
‘Why would
I lie about this?’
‘Maybe for the same reason you’re accusing Nick of wanting you dead? You’re getting divorced. People do batshit crazy things when they get divorced.’
Karen put her head in her hands. ‘So you’re going to do nothing?’
‘I didn’t say that. I need something more concrete on this Fisher guy.’
Karen looked up. ‘I saw him with that woman. The blonde who was killed in the alley.’
‘Elena Jones?’ Azrah said, confused. ‘That was nothing to do with this guy.’
‘It was. I saw him with her one night. That was why I was unsure about getting involved. But I didn’t put it together until I saw her picture on his wall.’
‘But–’
‘I don’t know why he killed her differently, but he did it.’
Azrah sat back, thinking, and Karen wondered if she’d wasted her time. Then Azrah stood up. ‘Wait here,’ she said and disappeared with Karen’s phone without another word.
Karen wondered what she was doing. She’d said Nick was there. Was she going to confront him about it? Ask what he’d been up to? Karen felt a weight in her stomach. Maybe she should just leave. If Azrah alerted Nick, he’d find a way to talk himself out of it. That’s what he always did. And then what? Would he come after Karen himself? Or would he think it too risky? Would she be safer if he knew they were onto him? But for how long?
Karen paced the small room for what felt like hours.
Finally Azrah returned and took a seat, indicating Karen should do the same.
‘What’s going on?’ Karen asked.
‘We’ve been checking out art schools, looking for anyone who might’ve done anything similar or who showed a little too much interest in these kinds of paintings. Anyone who stood out really. As you can imagine we’ve had a lot of irrelevant information. But, earlier today, we had someone report a student who stole a skeleton and set it up in the foyer of the school like Van Gogh’s smoking skeleton. We think our guy did something like that. But it was years ago and the lecturer couldn’t remember the student’s name. He thought it could’ve been Martin or something like that. I just called him and asked if Michael Fisher rang a bell, and he said yes.’
The Art of Murder Page 23
