by Luca Veste
‘When did you know?’
‘That he had been taken by the Candle Man? It was a while later. I’m not sure. I spoke to my ex-wife briefly and she told me something strange. Something that was found in his bedroom that had annoyed the police . . . ’
‘A red candle.’
‘Exactly. It didn’t make sense at the time because the rest of his room was an absolute tip, she said. Just computer games and clothes everywhere. It’s the only time she told me anything about who he was now. Then, there’s this nice red candle in a storm lantern, just sitting on his bedside table. I asked my ex-wife about it and she swore it wasn’t there before he left for the music festival. And that it wasn’t in the house beforehand. Then she rushed me off the phone and didn’t talk to me again. Neither will the police now.’
‘When did you make the connection?’
‘After a few months, I was desperate. I was online, looking at missing people in the area when I stumbled on this Candle Man story. I found a couple more who had gone missing within a few miles of here, then it just spiralled.’
I turned away from him, scratching at my increasingly stubbled chin. Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn’t this. ‘Did you talk to the police about what you’d found?’
‘Of course,’ Geoff said, scoffing and shaking his head. ‘They treated me like I had gone crazy. They didn’t take it seriously at all. Of course, by this point, while the rest of them still had hope, mine had gone. My son is gone, Dave. He’s been taken from me.’
‘So, you’ve spent the past few months becoming an expert on the Candle Man.’
‘Yes. There’s nothing I don’t know about his movements, his actions. Everything. I’ve talked to other people who might have sons and daughters and brothers and sisters who are victims. Many, many people. I’m pretty certain most of them don’t have a connection to him at all. Some . . . I know some of them do.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The red candle, it’s just not a typical thing. Not one of those glass Yankee candle things, or tealights, or cheap sorts. It’s housed in a storm lantern that keeps it alight in any situation.’
I knew then what the difference was for the others. The candles that were found in these victim’s houses after the fact.
It was the last thing those killed would have seen.
‘That’s what makes the cases different,’ Geoff said, looking older and more frail than he had back in the services when I’d first met him. ‘The candles. I’ve been narrowing it down, further and further each time. I’ve had some doors slammed in my face, some tough conversations, but I think there’s some kind of pattern. Only I’ve run into a brick wall recently.’
‘How so?’
‘I’ve not found anything concrete for a while,’ he replied, spitting it out in frustration. ‘Not since Mark . . . not since Mark went missing. I felt like I was getting close to him, but with no new leads, I don’t know. It’s not like it’s an official thing. Maybe Mark was the last one and that’s it. Now we’ll never find out who he was. I doubt that though. He’ll be back. I just need him to make a mistake.’
I tried to stay as stone-faced as possible, but I could feel the mask slipping. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through . . . ’
He waved me off before I could finish the sentence. ‘Platitudes. I’ve had enough of them. What I need now is answers. And I think you’re not telling me everything.’
I moved to the smaller sofa against the other wall opposite the window and sat down. Placed my hands on my knees and leaned forward. ‘The man you met a few weeks ago. He was my friend.’
‘Was?’
‘He died a few days later,’ I said, speaking slowly, so as not to dissolve in front of this man. ‘We’d known each other since we were kids. His death was very unexpected.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Geoff replied, then rolled his eyes. ‘Now it’s me with the platitudes. What happened to him?’
‘He was hit by a train. They reckon it was a suicide, but . . . ’
‘You’re not sure if it really was.’
I shook my head. ‘He had a candle in his house. Red. In a storm lantern.’
Geoff’s eyes lit up as the information hit home. ‘You saw it?’
‘Yes.’
He slapped his knees, getting to his feet quickly and pacing up and down in front of the bay window. ‘He’s back. This is huge. I mean . . . I know what price it’s come at, but I don’t think you’re just here for your own health. You want to know what I know. But this is unbelievable. I’ve waited so long for this. Of course, I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but now at least we’re not in a cul-de-sac of non-information anymore.’
Geoff continued talking, his words spilling out at a rate I couldn’t keep up with for the most part. It was the most energetic I’d seen him and a world away from the broken man he’d been a few minutes earlier. I looked at the clock on the wall and saw I’d been there for twenty minutes already.
‘Wait . . . ’ Geoff said suddenly, stopping and facing me again, as if he’d just noticed I was still sitting there. ‘You say his body was found?’
It took me a second to find my voice again. ‘Yes, it wasn’t easily identified, but the family managed it.’
Geoff frowned and then his shoulders sagged a little. ‘Maybe I’m mistaken then.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, the obvious – none of the other victims have ever been found. Why would he wait a year and then leave a body behind? It wouldn’t make any sense.’
No. It wouldn’t. Because he’s bloody dead and this is someone else.
I wanted to shout the thought in his face, but managed to control myself somehow. He could read my intentions, however, and his expression softened a little.
‘Listen, I’m sorry if I’m being thoughtless,’ Geoff said, sighing as he did so. He looked at the ceiling, shaking his head as he did so. ‘I just get a little overexcited. You have to understand, I’ve spent a year in the dark waiting for something to happen. I’m sorry about what happened to your friend, but maybe he holds the key to all of this. The Candle Man’s first mistake.’
I didn’t argue with him, but I couldn’t agree. Instead, I waited for him to come to the conclusion himself.
‘The victims don’t know before,’ he said quietly, dropping back onto the sofa, his large frame making the old furniture squeak in protest. ‘Why did he come and see me if he knew something was wrong? Has the Candle Man changed his methods? Has everything I learned become redundant?’
I didn’t want to hurt him anymore, omitting the facts as I knew them. I wanted nothing more than to tell him that he didn’t need to keep searching for his son’s killer anymore.
Only, I remembered the stories of the Moors Murderers. About the child who was never found. How his family could never move past until he was.
For Geoff and his wife and the rest of the family, this nightmare would be forever.
‘I’m sure that’s not the case,’ I said, standing up and preparing to leave. I shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t sure I should be anywhere in my current state. Spots in my vision, a growing pain behind both my eyes that would eventually become too difficult to ignore. ‘I’m sorry to make you bring this all out again.’
Geoff peered at me, turning a deeper shade of grey with each passing moment. He seemed to accept something that had been troubling him. ‘You’re not a journalist, are you?’
‘I have to go . . . ’
‘Tell me the truth,’ Geoff said, rising up and he suddenly looked a foot taller than me. I thought if it became physical, I could defend myself, but at that moment, I wasn’t sure.
‘I’ll see myself out.’
‘I deserve to know what’s going on here,’ Geoff said, and he was pleading now. He took hold of my arm and stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t a hard grip, but it was still enough to make me pause. He looked at me through watery eyes and said one word.
‘Please.’
I
couldn’t. I wanted to. More than anything I’ve ever felt in my life before. I wanted to give him the closure that he desired, but I knew it wouldn’t change a thing. All it would do was ruin all of our lives. My friends.
I needed them more than giving him closure.
I had never felt more selfish in my life.
‘I knew my friend met with you,’ I said, hoping he would believe me. ‘I thought you might have been someone else. I can see you’re not now. I wish I could help you, I really do, but we’re looking for the same ghost.’
‘There must be something you can tell me.’
I shook my head and prised myself away from his grip on my arm. He didn’t look a foot taller than me anymore. He looked exactly like he was – a man ten or fifteen years older than me, who looked at least a decade more than that. Someone who had been beaten by grief and the worst of not knowing the truth.
And shame. And guilt. The guilt of not seeing his children as they grew older. Always thinking he’d have one more chance to connect with them. Then Mark disappears, and that chance goes with him.
He would be in my nightmares, I thought. The look in his eyes. It would join the others.
‘I think the reason it was different this time is because it’s over,’ I said carefully, placing a hand on his shoulder briefly before moving away from him. ‘I just need to make sure, that’s all. And I promise, you’ll be the first to know if I learn anything.’
I left the room, feeling his presence following me. I took hold of the door and looked back. He was standing in the shadow of the living-room doorway, looking at the floor. He lifted his head and looked at me with an emptiness in his eyes now.
‘I knew from the start you weren’t who you said you were,’ he said, leaning against the doorjamb and folding his arms around himself. ‘I knew you were carrying something like what I am. I hope you’re right. I hope I don’t have to think about that thing anymore.’
I nodded and left, feeling my phone in my pocket vibrating a couple of times again.
Outside, the temperature had dropped further, spots of rain falling as I jogged to the car. Even inside the vehicle, the cold seeped through and into my skin. It spread across my body like the numbing tide of an icy sea.
I willed myself to look back at the house, but I couldn’t.
Instead, I pulled out my phone, switched on the music, tried to blink some life into my eyes and turned the ignition.
It wasn’t until I was a mile or more away that I glanced at my phone again. I saw a missed call and messages. I pulled over and took it from the cradle.
Missed calls from Chris.
A message from Chris. Not a voicemail.
Two words in a text message.
The world turns and spins on phone notifications.
Two words.
Nicola’s gone.
Thirty-Eight
I made it to Chris’s house by midnight. I was pretty sure I’d have some speeding fines landing on my doormat within a few days. If I made it long enough to receive them, of course. It would be some luck – go my whole life without a single point on my licence, then not be around to finally get them.
He opened the door before I even had the chance to knock, swinging it back on the hinges, the bang against the inside wall echoing around the street. I followed him in, closing the door behind me carefully and finding Chris in the living room.
‘What happened?’ I said, stopping short of moving any closer to him. He was a ball of energy, hands clenched into fists and banging against his thighs. ‘Chris, tell me . . . ’
‘I’ll tell you what’s happened,’ Chris shouted, turning on me now, the distance between us closed in a split second. ‘This is your fault.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All of this crap,’ he said, his voice still bouncing off the walls around us. I tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off like an annoyance.
‘Calm down mate, we can fix this.’
He laughed at that. I didn’t blame him.
‘There’s nothing to fix, mate,’ he spat at me, then paced away from me. Fists still flexing and finding a home on the mantelpiece. A vase crashed to the laminated floor, landing with enough force to smash it into pieces. Chris crunched through them with his shoes. ‘This is your fault.’
‘Tell me what’s happened, Chris,’ I tried again, my own jaw clenching now. We had never fallen out, the two of us. I was too tired to care anymore. Everything that happened couldn’t be my fault. I couldn’t take the blame for it all. ‘Where’s Nicola?’
‘She’s gone. I don’t know where.’
‘Gone how?’
‘I haven’t the first idea,’ Chris said, a sarcastic laugh preceding it. ‘We were all set to go to the damn hotel, like you suggested, and she has to go get something or other, I don’t know. Next thing I know, I get a text from her.’
His phone was on the coffee table and he picked it up and threw it at me. I looked at the screen after swiping it to unlock it. No password or security. I had an urge to point that out to him, but it didn’t feel like the right time. When the screen came alive, the message was there.
I’ve got to go away. We can’t be together while this is going on. We’re too much of a target. I will call you. Love you x
I looked up and Chris was standing a foot away. He snatched the phone from my hand and threw it across the room. I moved quickly, placing my hands on his shoulders as he screamed in frustration.
‘It’s going to be okay . . . ’
‘Liar,’ he said, pulling away from me. He was breathing heavily, facing me with a look of violence in his eyes. He wanted to inflict damage on someone and I was starting to wonder if it was going to be me.
‘She’s probably just gone to another hotel,’ I said, keeping my voice low and steady. ‘That’s all it is. Maybe it’s better that way. She can handle herself, Nicola. We both know that. We’ve seen it enough times over the years.’
‘I’m supposed to be by her side through everything. I don’t care if she could kick all our heads in if she wanted to, I’m still supposed to be the one there with her.’
‘I know . . . ’
‘You know? How could you? You and Alex split as soon as you possibly could. You have no idea what it is we have. You couldn’t possibly comprehend what we share. We’re a team. It’s always been me and her. Now we’re arguing and she’s disappeared. That hasn’t happened in twenty-odd years, Matt. And it all starts with Stuart throwing himself in front of a train, just because he can’t take a little bit of guilt.’
‘You were onboard with what we talked about earlier,’ I said, sensing I had lost an argument I hadn’t even been part of. One he’d had with himself before my arrival. ‘You agreed with me.’
‘What the hell do I know? This isn’t right. We’ve all panicked because of what we did last year. What if there was no one in those woods? What if someone is out there, but is just messing with our heads so we do something stupid? What if, what if, what if?’
By the final repetition, Chris was in my face screaming, spittle flying from his mouth and hitting me on the cheek. I could feel his breath on my skin and I placed my foot back, waiting for the punch to land.
It didn’t come.
I would have let it.
He knew that as well. The thought seemed to land inside his head and began to crumple.
I’d never seen him cry in the twenty-five years we’d known each other. Not when his dad died a decade ago. Not on his wedding day, when I stood next to him at the altar as his best man. Not when he told me he and Nicola couldn’t have children, after years of trying.
He did now.
Chris dropped to the sofa in a heap and I moved quickly to fall with him. I grabbed him and held tight as his cries of anguish filled the room.
We were sitting like that for a minute or so before he finally began to calm down. I let him go and shuffled to the side to give him room. He breathed in and out deeply a few times, then se
emed to gain control again.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ I said, putting my hand on his upper arm and squeezing once. ‘We can all get through this.’
‘How?’
‘Well, if you’re going to ask questions I can’t answer, then I don’t know how I’m supposed to get you through this without crying myself.’
He chuckled a little at that and wiped his face with a sleeve. ‘It’s always been me and her, you know? We came as a pair. I don’t know how I’d have fared without her. She makes me a complete person.’
I nodded in response, thinking of Alexandra and the way we had been until a year ago. She had always been independent, free-thinking and self-sufficient. I had been the same. Yet once we were together, that was it. We were entangled. Our separate lives had become a whole. Now, I felt like there was always something missing.
‘Before all of this, we were okay,’ Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Sure, we still carried some guilt, but we got through it. Since Stuart died, I’ve felt her slipping away. She’s been colder. The other day, some guy cut us up at a roundabout and I swear if she’d had a gun or whatever, that bloke would have been dead. She’s always had a short temper, but I don’t know . . . lately she’s been different.’
‘It’s the stress of the situation—’
Chris shook his head in disagreement. ‘It’s more than that. I’m worried about her state of mind. All of this, it’s breaking us apart. Not just me and her, but the rest of us too. Those of us who are left, anyway.’
‘We can fix this. He’s not going to beat us.’
He seemed to nod in agreement, but I didn’t feel confident that he believed me. I wasn’t sure I was convinced either. I looked around the room and felt my stomach fall a few floors. ‘Chris, where’s the candle?’
