Beyond the Blood Streams

by Ben Oakley

  “It's my knife. You've been through enough.”

  She wiped away tears again and then dropped the knife. I took it and put it on my thigh, to make it look as though I was the one who had attacked Foster. I assumed I was already in enough trouble and there was no need for Stansey to go through any more.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  I reached out my hand and Stansey took it with a bittersweet smile on her muddied face. I gripped it tight.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” I said.

  I turned and put my other hand on Paine's shoulder and she smiled at me.

  “You found me,” Paine said.

  “I had a little help.”

  Suddenly SCO19 burst through the door. The leading member almost fell down the steps and tripped over Foster's wounded body, but managed to maintain his posture. The rest quickly poured in and secured the room.

  We'd done the job for them. The Blood Streams Killer was caught. Seventeen souls had been avenged and I couldn't help but think it was down to Stansey that it had ended this way. Her story would be the one that people would write about and comment on.

  I was doing what I thought best and it was the first time I'd ever been stabbed. Which I can assure you wasn't nice at all, in fact it bloody hurt so much I had a feeling I'd be out of action for weeks. And I was okay with that, I needed the rest.

  I heard some of the officers on their radios calling for medical assistance.

  Then I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Detective Berg standing in front of the three of us.

  “What the fuck happened here?” he said in no uncertain terms, while pinching his nose with his finger and thumb.

  Paine looked up at him, “get us out of here.”

  I couldn't have agreed more.

  Fifty Three

  I was alive and kicking two days later, much to the doctor's annoyance.

  When the knife had gone into me, it had ruptured various layers of flesh four inches in and it still hurt like hell. It had been cleaned out, medicated and patched up. I had survived being stabbed but still couldn't walk as quickly as I wished. I guessed it would come in time with a bit of physio and a lot of rest.

  My first port of call was Superintendent Salt. Maybe not my first choice but he said once I had recovered then to go and see him. I had spent the rest of that night and the second night in the emergency ward but as the morning came in with the Sun I decided I had rested enough. So I went to see Salt at Holborn Station just 36 hours after the stabbing.

  “Are you alright?” he said to me, genuinely concerned.

  “I'm doped up to the eyeballs, when this wears off I'll be crying like a baby.”

  “You did a good job, Lake.”

  I wasn't really worried about me, “how's Paine?”

  “Recovering, she took quite a knock.”

  “I saw that. I only started walking around a few hours ago, no chance to see her yet. Why did you wanna see me now?”

  “Red tape, usual bureaucracy, you know how it is,” he muttered.

  Yeah, I knew that feeling and I had a feeling this was coming.

  “So how can I help?” I asked, genuinely.

  “Doctor Foster is alive but barely, he sustained a violent attack and claims this Stansey King stabbed him. Is that right?”

  “Actually I stabbed Foster in self-defence to protect Paine and Stansey.” I pointed to my left side, “he knifed me and I managed to fight him off. If he sustained knife wounds then it was an unfortunate side-effect of bringing him to justice. We ended the reign of the Blood Streams Killer, ain't no jury north or south of here gonna convict me on it.”

  “Is that so?”

  I smiled to myself and thought back to all the research that had come my way in the past few days. Did these people never learn?

  “Of course if it were the route you were going to take then there is the unfortunate matter of familial relations.”

  “What are you talking about, Lake?”

  I took a deep breath but grimaced at the crescendo as I felt I had pulled some of the stitches loose. I stood and looked at Salt.

  “Is my Private Investigator License still active?”

  “It was temporary but it can be made full again.”

  “Make it fully active if you would be so kind, I've a feeling I might need these detective privileges somewhen down the line. And get this damn restrictive circle lifted, I'm gonna need a holiday.”

  “You can't just order me around, Lake, there's protocol in place here and I'm not sure you're fully aware of that.”

  I stood straighter. “Of course, I was surprised to learn you have a half-brother living right here in the city. I didn't work it out at first but I guess it was the penchant for facial hair that gave it away. Along with a very helpful friend.”

  “Friend?” he said, a little agitated.

  I leaned in, “I would be very worried about your brother breaking the moral boundary in his line of work, he's halfway there already. Your half-brother, Doctor Cobbs of Linden, could easily drag you both down. I'd consider having a private chat with him before he goes too far.”

  Had I gone too far? I was pushing the police Superintendent, but I wasn't blackmailing him. It was just a friendly reminder I suppose to let Foster's case run its course. Focus on him and not the peripheral people around him.

  Salt looked at me but didn't smile. Did I expect him to?

  “Self defence eh?” he said, nonchalantly.

  “Self defence,” I reiterated.

  “Consider your P.I. License restored, I'll clear it with my superior and put you on the preferred supplier list for investigatory services. Harrison, thank you for getting to Megan before we did. You saved her life.”

  “Actually sir, it was Stansey King who led me there. However, I couldn't have done it without the help from a family member of Jennifer Cane. Everything should be attributed to the family members of the victims for assisting in the investigation, and for the memory of every one of the seventeen. They helped me from beyond the grave, beyond the blood streams.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Hundred percent.”

  I turned and reached for the door but he had one final question to get out.

  “Are you sure that opening your house to this Stansey King is a good idea? Seeing how you first met, as it were?”

  I smiled and glanced back, “five years ago I helped someone who became my friend and I let her down. Stansey's given me a chance to put it right. She's got nowhere else to go but she's not getting a free run of it.”

  “How so?”

  “Because she makes one hell of an investigator.”

  I traipsed out the door and then the station, with my license and life back.

  Fifty Four

  Detective Megan Paine was sitting in my lounge, on my sofa, with a cup of coffee that Stansey had made for her.

  Paine was bandaged up and had a covering on one side of her face where Foster had slashed her. She still had this confident beaming smile, even if it was a little weary.

  “Did you see Salt?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah I saw Salt. Most agreeable I must say.”

  She looked at me and raised one of her eyebrows, another skill I had yet to learn.

  “If you say so,” she said. “so what are you doing going forward?”

  “Gonna take a few days off then get back to work. I've made Stansey an honorary researcher at the Oculus.

  Paine glanced back at Stansey who was in the kitchen preparing a sandwich. She leaned forward and spoke quietly to me.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “If it wasn't for her, we'd be fishing your body from the canal right about now. I know what I'm doing. She has therapy on a Friday and a recovery college on a Monday. But all the other times, she's eager to crack on with research, assisting the Oculus and myself in whatever we're working on at any given time – between her studies of course.

  “You seen how big this house is?�
�� I continued, “I could have done with a lodger a long time ago. She's a good girl, just needs an opportunity to follow the right path and now she has that. Besides, I could do with the company.”

  Paine replied sarcastically, “where did they find you?”

  I smiled and opened my laptop on the table in front of me.

  “You know I'd be happy to assist you on any other case that comes your way,” I said. “Lake and Paine, remember.”

  “Paine and Lake actually, but you've been stabbed so I'll let you have this one, you must delirious with all the medication,” she smiled.

  “Regardless, I'm here if you need anything.”

  “I know you are. Thank you, Lake. I'm gonna head off, gotta get back to the hospital.”

  “I'll see you soon.”

  I helped her walk to the door and to the roadside where an unmarked car was waiting to take her back to the hospital. She had only been allowed to leave for a couple of hours and she chose to come and see me, which really cheered me up. In fact, I felt a little warm inside, and it wasn't the painkillers.

  I returned to my laptop and logged back onto the Deep London forum. I needed to send a private message to deadcalm1978.

  HighgateVampire – Hi, are you there? I've got good news.

  deadcalm1978 – [account no longer exists]

  I didn't know if it was a surprise or not. I suppose I should have expected it but it did seem rather odd. I got back in on the main forum and LoadedWeapon was active.

  HighgateVampire – What happened to deadcalm1978?

  LoadedWeapon – Hey buddy, dunno, fella just vanished a couple of nights ago.

  HighgateVampire – That's strange. Any idea why?

  LoadedWeapon – Just after the Blood Streams Killer was caught, he never logged back in. Why you wanna chat to him?

  HighgateVampire – No reason, just wanted to say thank you.

  LoadedWeapon – For what?

  HighgateVampire – For lighting the way.

  I logged off just as Stansey walked in from the kitchen with a plate of perfectly cut cheese sandwiches and a bowl of fruit.

  “Feast fit for a king,” I said.

  “I'll let you eat it if you tell me how you blend your coffee?”

  I had forgotten all about it and I chuckled to myself. “It's simple,” I said, “you take three different grounded coffees and... mix them in a bowl!”

  “What? That's not blending?”

  “Do you like the coffee?”

  “Oh yeah!”

  “Good, because it's my own blend,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in jest.

  “You're not gonna tell me are ya?”

  “Gotta have some secrets. Maybe one day.”

  “Well, on this occasion, I'll let you eat, only because you look like you need some proper food. Oh, and also, I think I worked out what happened to Natalie Richmond.”

  Why did the name seem familiar? Then it came back to me, “of course, the girl in room 18, seven years ago. What did you find?”

  “She gets out of Linden after almost half a year inside, then 18 months later she vanishes without a trace. That was five years ago.”

  She looked at me as if I was expected to read her mind. “Five years ago, right. Am I missing something?” I said.

  “I believe Foster kept her for that 18 month period, in his house in Essex. After 18 months or so she picks up a magazine which could have been left in Foster's house, called the Oculus. She reads a story of cult abuse and how people have escaped similar situations. She discovers the author, a man named Harrison Lake who exposed the abuse. Then she works out he could be the one to save her, so she escapes and ends up in the doorway of his place of work, begging for help.”

  For once, I was lost for words. Literally couldn't even fathom putting a sentence together. Was she saying what I think she was saying?

  “You think Natalie Richmond became Jess Ashby?” I said.

  She nodded, “it seems more likely than not.”

  I didn't quite know what to say or whether to believe it. Did it make a difference now?

  “You've thrown me with that, I'll be honest,” I said. “Not quite sure what to think.”

  “I can show you what I got, but it's not much.”

  I looked at the apples in the fruit bowl and smiled to myself. I reached forward and lifted the two apples out.

  “Actually, I might go for a walk,” I said.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “The sandwiches will be here when you get back,” she said.

  “You sure about that?” I grinned.

  “We'll see.”

  I put the apples in my jacket pocket and stood. “I'll be back before you know it,” I said.

  “What's next Detective Lake?” she said with a glint in her eye.

  “There's someone I need to see.”

  Fifty Five

  I walked slowly to Camden High Street before turning right onto the towpath. I glanced over to The Outhouse and saw Daisy the waitress going about her work. I wondered how many times she'd told the story about meeting the detective who solved the Blood Streams. I bet she was thriving on it.

  As I left the bustle of central Camden to stroll along the canal, I managed to find an equilibrium with myself and the environment. Upon passing London Zoo, the breeze picked up ever so slightly and it felt so good on my face and through my hair. I could feel every strand lifting up and dropping back down.

  I became mindful of the world around me; the colours, the smells and the sounds of the world. The slow moving waters of the canal mirrored the idleness of the animals in the Zoo. The music coming from a nearby apartment reflected the stillness of the sky and the precession of the stars above the blue.

  But then my phone rang and I was ripped from my meditative walk and back to a grey reality. I should have left my phone at home, I always said I would but I never did. I guessed it was a modern affliction. I looked at it and frowned before answering.

  “Berg?”

  “Lake, how you keeping buddy?”

  Buddy? “I'm just recovering is all.”

  “Okay, I thought I'd throw this your way because I said I'd keep you up to date. I did say that didn't I?”

  “Yeah, yeah you said that. I'm kinda busy,” I lied, “what can I do for you?”

  “It's about one of the victims on the list. A Jess Ashby?”

  “Yeah, and?” I thought about what Stansey had said.

  “Because of the race to find Foster, the DNA results of the last victim we thought was Jess Ashby weren't viewed until very recently. It's not Jess Ashby.”

  My heart fluttered suddenly and nerves set in. How could it not be?

  “That's impossible,” I said in confusion.

  “It's another girl with dreadlocks, haven't got her name yet but it's not Jess. It's someone else.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “The DNA guy is sure about it, I'm just going off what he said.”

  “That's impossible,” I repeated, before hanging up and dropping the phone back in my pocket.

  I sat on a nearby wall facing the canal. I closed my eyes as my breathing had quickened and my heart had started hammering against my ribcage yet again. The wound in my left side felt like it flared-up suddenly and caused me more pain. Adrenaline was firing through me and I tried with all my might to keep it down.

  Think, Harrison!

  I've been right in front of you the whole time and you never even knew it.

  No, that wouldn't make sense. It couldn't make sense. I thought back to seeing the photo of the body on Paine's phone. I didn't see Jess's face, all I saw were the dreadlocks matted around her head. The build was similar to Jess but she had been in the water for a little while and any change could have happened to the body during that time. Dammit, why didn't I see this?

  Wait, there were three others in the bar that final day I was in there.

  There was a woman with dreadlocks sitting opposit
e a man with a cap, having a professional conversation. An older gentleman was reading a large broadsheet at the end of the bar and now I know him to have been Doctor Foster.

  A brief conversation echoed back through my mind.

  What is it with dreadlocks? I had said.

  It's a dreadlock renaissance, didn't you hear? That girl over there with the dreads, she's starting work here tonight.

  Oh jeez, there was another female in the bar with dreadlocks and I never clicked until now it could be her. Dammit! If she was working that night then she could have been the one who went into the lower cellar, maybe to check out her new work place. She would have seen the hatch to the sewer open and curiosity would have got the better of her.

  She would have looked in.

  Foster would only have seen her from behind and assumed the dreads belonged to Jess. He cut her throat from behind before shoving her down the hatch. Her face would have been muddied with affluent and blood as he dragged her to the canal through the sewers, so he wouldn't have known any different.

  Why did she have Jess's bank cards in her pocket? Jess ran the business herself so her name would have been on the business cards. Maybe she trusted the new girl enough with the cards in case of emergencies and let her keep hold of them. Maybe the new girl stole them? There was no way of knowing.

  More importantly – where the hell was Jess?

  Stansey may have been right.

  “Michael Drake!” I said out loud.

  He had seen Foster go into the girl's ward and enter room 18 where a girl had been laying on her bed as he approached her with a needle. Drake didn't mention her face, he didn't need to but the way he spoke about her suddenly rang true.

  He had climbed the wall in the smoking area, not because of any suspicions he had, but to see her. To see Natalie Richmond, a girl he had taken a fancy to. After escaping Foster's clutches, 18 months later, she hid herself from the world and became Jess Ashby. She changed her appearance, nurtured dreadlocks and lived a better life – but it wasn't enough.

  Wait, the guy in the cap at the bar that day. I tried to think back to it. He had a black cap with writing on the front but I couldn't make out what it said. From the side, it looked like it might well have said Pink Panthers. I'd never seen Jess's boyfriend before but it must have been Drake, he was giving a rundown of the work and job routine to the new girl.