He had learned a long time ago that people followed patterns that they probably couldn’t even see. Although the name was corny, that’s why he decided to call himself the Oracle, because to the uninitiated, his ability to predict people might seem almost prophetic. In reality it was nothing more than simple surveillance.
Gathering personal information about an individual, he could calculate perceived reactions to situations to predict future actions. If someone stood up to offer their seat on a crowded bus to an old person, he could predict other reactions that he could use to his advantage based on what he knew, such as they could be expected to assist him if he was struggling with a heavy item, as it was in their nature to be helpful and kind. If the same person didn’t offer up their seat, that presented him with another character assessment that he could also use. Although only little things, they painted a picture of the person and were things he could use to manipulate them.
But the article in the newspaper, he hadn’t predicted that. They were trying to outfox him. But it wasn’t a problem. He could use it to his advantage, adapt to the situation.
What he did know was that Paris and Ty were running scared. He had seen the same look of fear on his victims’ faces enough times to recognise it now. They knew he was on to them. The thought made him smile and created a warm glow in his belly. Having been a party to the murder of Hatchet Man, they couldn’t go to the police for fear of being discovered. The irony didn’t escape him.
As they drove away, he dropped from the tree, rushed to his car and drove after them, keeping far enough back to shadow them without being spotted. A delicious shiver ran along his spine, making him tingle all over.
It was a feeling he was getting used to again; a feeling that he no longer found unpleasant. The feeling that came before a kill.
CHAPTER 36
With Paris nervously checking the rear-view mirror all the time, Ty couldn’t relax. What if the police are waiting at Wolfe’s? What if they’ve set a trap? Why are both Wolfe and Prosper missing? Has one of them – or even both of them – admitted everything to the police? And if so, how much have they told them? Who have they implicated? And how had the Oracle found Jerel?
The hairs tingled at the nape of his neck and he twisted in his seat to look back along the road. Seeing nothing untoward, he faced back to the front.
Cars rolled along the road, seeming to exist in another dimension, ethereal, the heat shimmering off them in waves. Even the road looked as though it led towards a scintillating horizon, an unreal gauze that had unravelled itself from some fifth dimension and now connected worlds.
Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed. Ty and Paris glanced nervously at each other, the fear they felt etched on their faces.
When they reached Wolfe’s house, Paris drove past and parked further along the road. They sat in silence, peering around to see if they could spot anyone lurking about.
“So what now?” Ty asked.
Paris pointed back towards the house. “You can go and see if he’s in.”
Ty recoiled as though punched. “What do you mean, I can go and see if he’s in? We’re in this together. We can both go.”
Paris shook his head. “I’m not going. I can’t afford to get arrested. What would the bank think? I’d lose everything.”
Ty clenched his fists. “Oh but you think it’s alright if I get arrested. You can be a self-centred son of a bitch at times.”
Paris licked at the sheen of sweat coating his top lip and then ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “Well I’m not going. End of.” He avoided eye contact as he spoke.
Ty folded his arms across his chest. “Well if you’re not going, then neither am I.”
“Grow up.”
“You grow up.”
Paris tapped the steering wheel impatiently. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. One of us is going to have to go and have a look.”
“We can both go.”
After a moment, Paris nodded. “Great. Come on then, let’s get it over with.”
They exited the car together and crept along the road.
“I think we should just take a look around the back to see if anyone’s home,” Ty whispered, his eyes alert for the police lying in wait.
Paris nodded in agreement and they scrambled across the lawn, using the natural foliage as cover. The rear of the house seemed taller than the front, and it sloped down at one end. A large, bay window and a series of smaller circular windows that looked like portholes set in an unfathomable pattern distracted the eye.
Tall trees planted in a half moon design at the bottom of the lawn provided a natural backdrop to a tranquil Zen garden with three tall rocks amid a swirl of white shale.
Water trickled somewhere, producing a sound like bubbling speech.
“What now?” Ty asked as he crouched behind a red flowering rhododendron bush and peered at the house.
Paris bit his lip and crouched down next to him. “How the hell should I know? We wait, I suppose.”
“Wait for what?”
“Christ, Ty. For someone to appear. I don’t fucking know.”
One of the rhododendron petals fell to the ground, and Ty couldn’t help being reminded of Hatchet Man’s blood as it splashed the floor of the warehouse. The memory made him feel nauseous, but that’s when it occurred to him.
“What about the body? What about Hatchet Man’s body? Do you think they’ve found it? If they haven’t got a body, can they convict someone of murder?”
Paris frowned. “Do I look like a lawyer? You know as much as me.”
“Well, shouldn’t we go and see if the body’s still at the warehouse? That way we’ll know.”
Paris pursed his lips. Finally, he said, “Better than sitting here, I guess.”
By the time they reached the warehouse, darkness held dominion. The Range Rover’s headlights illuminated the front of the building, the shadow of a moth being cast impossibly large as it flitted across their path.
The pulley Wolfe used to hoist Hatchet Man swung in the gentle breeze, and Ty shivered as he imagined himself swinging from the end of it.
“It’s going to be pitch black in there,” Ty said. “Have you got a light?”
Paris shook his head. “No, I’ll leave the headlights on.”
Although Ty knew the lights might attract attention to them, he knew he would feel a lot more relaxed if they helped him see where he was going. He exited the vehicle and stood next to it. Overhead, the clear sky twinkled with stars.
“So where did Wolfe bury the body?” Paris asked as he jumped out of the car.
Ty frowned. “I thought you knew.”
“How should I know? I left that up to Wolfe, but I thought he told you.”
Ty shook his head.
“Oh great. You drag me all the way out here and you don’t even know where the body is. You idiot.”
Ty ground his teeth together and exhaled loudly. “Well, who’s to say he buried the body? Perhaps it’s still in the warehouse.”
They both looked at the imposing building. The slight breeze made something rattle like bones and Ty couldn’t help remembering what they had done inside. He wondered if Paris thought the same thing, but he didn’t want to appear weak so he didn’t ask.
“Great, so you want to walk around in there, go ahead. I’ll wait here,” Paris said.
Ty gulped. “You’re not coming?”
Paris snorted loudly. “No, this was your idea, you go ahead.”
“Not this again. I’m not going in there on my own.”
“Well you can think again if you think I’m going in there.”
“Well we can’t just stand here freezing our nuts off.”
“Want a bet.”
Ty snorted loudly in disgust. He knew his old friends made fun of him behind his back for his paranoia and fear, but he’d never realised how scared Paris was until now. The thought that he could upstage Paris and show the guys he wasn’t the impoverished fool they all thought he was gave Ty the
strength to stand up. Just for once, he could show them that there was more to him than they realised. He gave Paris a withering glare, then marched towards the building.
At the doorway, he hesitated and licked his lips as he peered into the darkness, his bravado evaporating. The headlights at his rear threw his elongated shadow across the floor, making him look ganglier than he was, but beyond the lights reach, darkness brooded.
“Get a move on,” Paris shouted.
Gritting his teeth, Ty entered. He saw dust floating in the beams of light shining through windows and cracks in the walls. Something flew overhead, making him jump, his heart shifting into top gear as a cloud of dust floated down on him.
Ty coughed as the particles tickled his nose, and he proceeded cautiously. At the foot of the steps, he stopped, wary of ascending as creaks and groans emanated from the building.
He took a deep breath and then began to climb, ignoring the protests of the steps until he reached the second floor where he exhaled and sucked in fresh air. How did I get myself in this mess?
Ty hesitated at the doorway to the passage, the blackness ahead of him impenetrable. He rubbed his hands together, his palms slick with sweat that he wiped on his jeans. Steeling himself, he walked forwards, arms extended to feel his way. Floorboards creaked underfoot, making him wince. It was a stupid idea to come back here. Of course the body isn’t going to be here. Wolfe wasn’t daft. He would have buried it somewhere far away where it would never be found.
Although he extended his hands to feel his way, Ty walked into something hanging down from the ceiling, making him squeal. He winced, rubbed his crown to relieve the ache, and reluctantly ventured on. He felt like a rat in a maze, the passages worming this way and that until he started to feel disorientated. He wished that Paris had accompanied him.
A squeak and groan from the old building made him hesitate. Goosebumps mottled his arms and he chewed his lower lip, but the sudden thought of Paris mocking him forced his legs into action.
Cautiously, he approached the door to the room where Wolfe staged the strange tableau and noticed it was open. The headlights from the car down below were throwing diffused light across the wall opposite him.
Then he recalled what they had done inside the room and his stomach tied itself in knots. All that blood …
But at least the car headlights would faintly illuminate the room, as he didn’t think he could venture inside if it was pitch black. On the reverse side, it also meant that if it hadn’t been removed, he would be subjected to the horrific sight of Hatchet Man’s corpse again.
Bracing himself, he stepped forward.
A sudden bloodcurdling scream pierced the night air.
Ty jumped and clutched at his chest.
A moment later, the car lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.
CHAPTER 37
Leon was restless; perhaps sensitive to his father’s mood, he refused to sleep. Prosper sat on the edge of his son’s bed and read him a couple of fairy tales in which witches ate children and where everything always turned out happily ever after.
Unfortunately, Prosper knew real life didn’t work that way.
When Leon eventually fell asleep, Prosper kissed him on the forehead, tucked the sheet around him and walked towards his own bedroom. When he reached the door, he looked inside, and spied Natasha’s leg brace at the foot of the bed.
The faint light from the hallway revealed the bulge of her legs beneath the bed sheet. He would give anything to have her handicap fixed, but it was never going to happen. And now with everything else… Looking away, he trudged along the landing, shoulders slumped. He didn’t know if he had the strength to continue anymore.
He recalled his visit to Wolfe the previous day, which was where he had devised his plan to flush the Oracle out.
Wolfe’s comment about the Oracle being an artist made him recall a talk he once heard about serial killers, that while they may not want to get caught, they want to be recognised for what they’d accomplished, which tallied with Angela’s assumption that the Oracle indulged on the notoriety of his kills. With that in mind, he decided to go proactive to see if he could draw the offender out; make him angry in the hope he would make a mistake. To do that, they had to ridicule him.
And that was why the morning newspapers carried the fanciful story.
Prosper knew the risk, but he thought it was worth it.
If the Oracle was as impassioned about his work as Wolfe made out, then the headlines would infuriate him.
First, Prosper had run the idea by his superiors, ardent enough in his explanation that they agreed. He had put it to them that if they vilified one of the Oracle’s photographs, then he might feel the need to respond to authenticate the work. It was a double bluff. Hopefully, if the Oracle was annoyed, he might slip up and leave them a clue by mistake, a fingerprint, a hair, anything for the forensic bloodhounds to get their teeth into. Anything was better than the big fat nothing they had at the moment.
Hatchet Man’s family had been informed of the plan, and their consent had been given: ‘As long as you get the man who did it, I don’t care what they print’ Clarissa Taylor had said.
Prosper was going to tell Ty and Paris about the plan the previous night, but Wolfe talked him out of it. He said that if the Oracle was watching them, they had to make him believe they were even more confused and scared by the news reports, and although Paris might be convincing, he didn’t believe that Ty would be unless he believed it was true. Even after a lifetime of trying, Ty was a useless liar. And now more than ever, they needed him to be convincing.
For his part, Prosper continued to do his job, but after the false news report, he pretended an air of nervousness. It wasn’t hard, and several times during the day he’d seen Jill staring at him with a curious expression. That was why he had assigned her to watch over his wife. Another officer was assigned to keep an eye on Leon.
Across the landing, he entered the spare room and switched his computer on.
After connecting to his internet server, a box popped up announcing there was an e-mail in the Kult account, and he positioned the cursor and clicked the mouse button to open it. He expected to see a message from either Paris or Ty, asking what the hell was going on. Instead, he stared open mouthed at a message that read:
YOU WILL ALL DIE.
Prosper’s heart beat fast and his hands shook. He didn’t know who the message was from, but he could guess. But how the hell did the Oracle know about their e-mail account? Could Jerel have told him? Did the Oracle torture him to glean everything he needed to know? The thought turned his stomach in knots.
Still worried about how the Oracle had found them in the first place, the message only compounded his concerns. He absently chewed on his fingernails, spitting the bits on the floor.
As the news reports routinely stated: The Oracle could be anyone. Your neighbour. Your work colleague. Even your partner. If you have any information, no matter how relevant you feel it is, please contact the police. Do not try to approach the suspect yourself, as he is considered highly dangerous.
So, what do you do when you can’t contact the police? Prosper mused.
The answer shone back at him from the monitor screen.
YOU WILL ALL DIE.
CHAPTER 38
The darkness in the warehouse was absolute.
Ty held his breath, listening. After the scream petered out, silence pervaded.
Paralysed by fear, and with no idea how long he’d crouched in the doorway of the room, Ty felt like a coward. He hardly dared to take a breath in case he made too much noise.
He didn’t know if it was Paris that had screamed, but it had sure sounded like him.
A floorboard creaked behind him. After the prolonged silence, the sound startled him, and it made him realise he couldn’t stay where he was. He tried not to consider it might be someone creeping up on him.
Moving cautiously, he crept into the room where he’d last seen Hatche
t Man, mentally preparing himself to come face-to-face with Wolfe’s grotesque mannequins, but they were gone. Although Ty hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, he’d thought Wolfe’s macabre display looked too real, so he felt relieved not to see it again, although the smell of blood still permeated the air.
He noticed the double doors Wolfe had dragged Hatchet Man into the room through were standing open, and he crept towards them and peered down at the Range Rover, but he couldn’t spot Paris. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to penetrate the curtain of darkness, but he couldn’t see anything.
Ty bit his lip, deliberating.
His heart thudded.
The building groaned.
Ty copied it.
What was he going to do?
Why had Paris screamed?
Had someone attacked him?
Or had he fallen?
But if he’d fallen, why had the car headlights gone out?
What if it wasn’t Paris?
Or what if he was playing some sick joke?
Almost collapsing with anxiety, heart a caged bird trying to escape, he backed away from the door and began to retrace his steps to get back to his friend. The floor creaked as he crept across it, making him wince.
At the doorway, he hesitated and peered out along the passage. Although too dark to see, he felt certain there was no one there and he stepped out of the room and made his way towards the stairs, touch the only sense he could rely on in the darkness.
Using the wall as a guide, he walked slowly, carefully putting one foot in front of the other as if walking through a pit of snakes.
He felt like curling up into a ball, but he couldn’t. He had to keep going.
The air smelled mouldy, the rotting structure home to numerous fetid growths.
The absence of light made progress slow. Each time he put his foot on a squeaking floorboard, he winced and his heart missed a beat. The passage looked more like a tunnel in some Stygian underworld, a place where monsters lurked and bodies were buried.
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