Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  The dog looked up at her, saliva dripping tongue lolling out of its maw. She stroked its back, the short hairs of which were standing on end like a cats.

  “Come on, some of us have to get to work soon.” She struggled to pull the dog away, and eventually it surrendered. When they had walked a distance from the tree, Alison let it go again. Thunder glanced back at the tree. “Don’t even think about it, buster,” she said. The dog looked at her, and then ran on ahead, sniffing and marking its territory every few feet.

  A faint mist hovered in the air, making the distant trees look ethereal. Branches were adorned with dew like precious jewels, the mulch underfoot soggy. The sun was visible through the trees, its warming rays adding to the faint miasma, trails of mist rising off the forest floor.

  Alison loved the forest, loved the fresh smell, the sense of peace, the whole atmosphere. It helped relax her before another day at work. While she enjoyed working with the public, it could be stressful. Some people were so rude and so arrogant, they made her blood boil. But then other people were the exact opposite. She got to see them all, and could usually tell at a glance which category they would fall into.

  Then there were the lecherous boyfriends and husbands that she caught checking her out while their partners were in the changing rooms – and that was only when they weren’t trying to see if they could catch any naked flesh whenever the changing room doors swung open.

  Yes, she got to see them all.

  As it was Friday, she would be out clubbing tonight, but as she had to work Saturday she couldn’t really let her hair down until tomorrow, and that was only possible because she rotated working on Sunday with the other girls. Whoever decided that Sunday opening was a good thing obviously didn’t have to work it. That was the trouble with most of these ideas; those who proposed them didn’t have to do them. Such was the injustice of the world, and in today’s marketplace, there was no such thing as a day of rest.

  After a moment, Alison realised that Thunder had run off again. She looked all around, and shouted his name a few times, but he didn’t respond.

  “Now where are you?” she mumbled. She glanced at her watch. 8:07 a.m. She had ten minutes to get back to the car and make her way home to get ready for work.

  “Thunder, come on boy.”

  Away from the path, she caught sight of movement and brushed through the ferns to find Thunder crouched on the ground, gnawing on something.

  “Now what have you got?” Alison asked. “Come on, it’s time to go.” She crouched down, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried to make out what Thunder had in his mouth. It looked like a branch, but she knew it wasn’t. When she realised what it was, she gagged, felt the colour drain from her face, turned away and vomited, her stomach hurting as she retched. When she stopped gagging, she wiped her mouth, spitting out the vile taste in her mouth and turned back to look at her dog, her arms folded across her stomach to quell the pain.

  Thunder gnashed his teeth, shook his head from side to side, stubby tail wagging furiously. It was a hand. In the dog’s mouth, it was a mottled blue hand.

  Even worse, the hand was still connected to a body, the face ripped to shreds and decorated by beetles and bugs.

  Alison turned away and gagged again.

  CHAPTER 46

  “That’s just what we need first thing in the morning,” Brundle grumbled as she disconnected the call and put her mobile phone in her pocket.

  “What is it?” Prosper asked from the back of the vehicle.

  “Another body. Young girl’s dog found it in the woods.” She leaned forwards and inputted some data into the GPS system built into the dashboard.

  “Is it related to our case?” Williams asked as he drove.

  “Don’t know, but we have to investigate every corpse that turns up at the moment in the hope it’ll give us a lead.”

  “Well let’s hope it’s not another dead end. Get it, ‘dead end’?” Williams laughed.

  Prosper rolled his eyes and stared out the window at the buildings alongside the road. Many of the businesses had gone to the wall, and just about every other public house was boarded up. Prosper had never known anything like it.

  The world was a scary place, and getting scarier.

  Eventually the buildings started to get further apart, and then trees started to appear, and then hedges and grass. Nature, in all its glory.

  The voice on the GPS system eventually informed them that they had arrived at their destination, which turned out to be a lay-by alongside a wood. Williams parked the vehicle and switched the engine off. There were three other vehicles parked at the side of the road, two of which were police cars.

  Prosper stepped out and stared at the trees. The last time he had been deep inside a wood, the Oracle had been chasing him, so the thought of venturing into one now didn’t fill him with joy.

  Brundle headed towards a gate alongside the road. “This way. The report said the body was found near the main path.”

  Prosper and Williams followed. The path was a soggy trail covered in leaf mulch. Mud squelched around Prosper’s boots. Sunlight blinked through the foliage, but it would have its work cut out drying up the rain that had fallen.

  They continued in silence, the only sound the rustling of leaves, the sucking mud and the odd twittering of an unseen bird. Prosper chewed his top lip, gaze flitting everywhere. His palms felt a little sweaty and he rubbed them against his thighs.

  “You okay, Prosper?” Williams asked.

  “Yeah, I love getting back to nature.”

  “Well you look a little pasty.”

  Brundle looked back over her shoulder. “Perhaps he’s feeling the heat.”

  Williams frowned.

  “Last time he was in a wood, he burnt it down, isn’t that right, Prosper?”

  “There was a little fire. No big deal.”

  “Little! The report said it burnt out five square miles.”

  Prosper shrugged. “Give or take.”

  Williams chuckled. “You’re nothing if not full of surprises.”

  “I try my best.”

  The trees crowded close to the path creating a covered walkway. Dappled sunlight danced across the ground and a sharp smell of fungal growths permeated the air.

  Up ahead there were three police officers, two male, one female and a young pale woman with long black hair struggling to hold a Doberman dog. The female police officer was talking to her. As Prosper approached, the dog started barking and tugging at its leash.

  “Must be that aftershave your old partner mentioned.” Brundle flashed her identification.

  “Does he bite?” Prosper asked as the woman struggled to hold the dog at bay.

  The woman shook her head. “He’d be more likely to lick you to death.”

  Prosper crouched down and patted the dog’s head. The dog licked his hand, tongue lolling from its maw.

  “I guess this has ruined your morning,” he said to the woman.

  “I’ve had better.”

  Prosper stood up and faced the police officers. “So where’s the body?”

  “Just up ahead where that other officer is.”

  Prosper nodded and Brundle started walking ahead so he and Williams followed.

  When they reached the police officer, Brundle flashed her identification again. “So what have we got?”

  “Body’s over there.” He pointed off the path. “But I want to avoid people trampling over the area until the SOCO arrive.”

  Brundle nodded. “We just need to ascertain a few details, so we need you to accompany us while we look at the body.”

  The officer tugged his earlobe. “Well don’t disturb anything. We’re still waiting for the photographer.”

  “Williams, wait here. Prosper, come with me.” Brundle looked back at the police officer. “Lead the way.”

  He started off through the ferns. The stench of rotting meat filled the air and Prosper wrinkled his nose and then wiped it with the back of his hand.
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br />   Up ahead, he could see an arm jutting out of the leaf mulch. The wrist had been chewed, bone visible beneath the shreds of marbled skin. Then there was the face, the skin frayed and hanging off in places, exposing a skeletal grin.

  “Looks like he’s been here for a while,” Brundle said.

  Prosper noticed the white uniform, the same uniform the subjects in the prison wore. There was a spider’s web tattoo on the man’s neck, more tattoos visible on his arms. Prosper looked at the face. Ravaged beyond recognition, the teeth visible in a permanent grin, he didn’t need to see any more to know who it was.

  “Oh my God,” he said, his jaw dropping.

  Brundle looked at him, eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

  “Don’t you know who that is?”

  Brundle peered at the corpse, realisation dawning on her face.

  “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” Prosper said, “but that’s our escaped prisoner, Peter Clarke, and by the looks of it, he’s been dead for quite a while.”

  Brundle frowned. “But that means …”

  “Yes, Peter Clarke is not our killer.”

  CHAPTER 47

  “I don’t understand,” Brundle said.

  “Neither do I.” Prosper shook his head and gazed at the face. It was definitely Clarke.

  Brundle frowned. “So if he didn’t do it, then who the hell did?”

  “I don’t know.” Prosper chewed his fingernail, grinding the pieces down and swallowing them. “What if there was another escaped prisoner that we weren’t told about?”

  “And why wouldn’t we have been told?”

  Prosper shrugged. “I don’t know. The whole experiment is seriously fucked up. Perhaps there was something about this other prisoner they didn’t want us to know about.”

  “Such as what?”

  Prosper exhaled. “I don’t have the answers, but one thing’s for sure, we’ve been sent on a wild goose chase.”

  “Then it looks like someone’s got some explaining to do.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  Brundle pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Lester, then we’re going to have to go back to square one.”

  As he sat in the back of the car questions whirred around Prosper’s head like spun candy. He couldn’t fathom what was going on. How could Clarke be dead? It didn’t make any sense.

  After a moment, he took his Blackberry out and accessed the internet. He was missing something. He just didn’t know what that something was. Once he was connected, he went to a search engine and input ‘Stanford Prison experiment’, then started to read:

  The Stanford prison experiment was conducted in 1971, and was set up to study the psychological effects of becoming a prisoner or prison guard. Twenty-four undergraduates were selected to play the role of either a guard or prisoner. Those selected were chosen for their lack of psychological issues, crime history and medical disabilities. Roles were then allotted by the toss of a coin.

  Those selected soon adapted to their roles, progressing beyond what had been predicted, which led to dangerous and psychologically damaging situations. One third of the guards were judged to have shown genuine sadistic tendencies, while many prisoners were extremely traumatised and two had to be removed from the experiment. Once it was found that the prisoners and guards had become too grossly absorbed in their roles, the experiment was terminated after only six days.

  Prosper stroked his jaw. “Do you know how long Klement has been conducting his experiment for?”

  Brundle answered without turning around, “Over a year. Why?”

  “Have you read the background to the Stanford Prison experiment which they have loosely based their experiment on?”

  “I know a little bit about it. Why?”

  “Well then you’ll know that the Stanford experiment was terminated after only six days, after the participants were shown to have become too absorbed in their roles.”

  “And what’s your point?”

  “The other day, when we found those escaped prisoners, didn’t you notice something?”

  “Just get to the point.”

  “Well I’ve only just thought about it really. They didn’t seem like people who wanted to kill without compunction, as they’d been conditioned to. No, they seemed scared.”

  Brundle put her left hand on the back of the seat and turned her head. “So what are you getting at?”

  “They killed to escape, whereas the person going around murdering those innocent people is killing for pleasure.”

  “He’s got a good point,” Williams said as he indicated to turn left.

  “Now imagine if the Stanford experiment was abandoned after only six days,” Prosper continued. “What has been the psychological effect on the participants of a similar experiment that’s been running for over a year?

  “I think we’ve been looking in the wrong place. I don’t think it’s the prisoners that can kill without compunction; I think it’s the goddamn guards.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Brundle stared at Prosper with a confused expression.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Prosper said. “Think about it. They were in a prison, with tight security, and yet we’re expected to believe that a prisoner, subject or whatever the hell you want to call him, knocked a guard out, dressed in his clothes and then destroyed any video evidence before walking out without anyone challenging him.”

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  “That someone, namely a guard, helped him escape, only to then kill him. I mean what better alibi to have than blaming the killings on an escaped prisoner – an escaped prisoner that you know is dead and buried in a shallow grave.”

  Williams slapped the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch. I think he’s right. We’ve been taken for a ride.”

  “Say I believe you,” Brundle said. “then we’d have to start interviewing the guards.”

  Prosper nodded. “If we interview them one at a time, and make it known to them that Clarke’s body has been found, and that we suspect it’s a guard that’s responsible for the killings, we can gauge their reaction. Hopefully the real killer will give himself away.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we have a problem. But it’s got to be worth a shot.”

  Brundle licked her lips, then turned to face the front. “Williams, take us to the prison.”

  When they arrived, Brundle led the way inside. Rogers was sitting at the reception desk.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

  Brundle walked right up to the desk and planted her feet shoulder width apart, hands on her hips. “Yes, you can get me an employee roster. I want to know who was on duty the night the prisoner escaped, and then you can arrange for a room where we can interview each of the workers in turn.”

  Rogers snorted. “What’s this about?”

  “It doesn’t matter what it’s about. Just do what I’ve asked.”

  Rogers clenched his fists and then pressed a button on the intercom. “Mr. Klement, you’d better get to the reception desk. We’ve got a … situation.”

  Less than a minute later, Klement appeared, looking flustered. “What’s the problem?”

  Rogers stood up, chest puffed. “These people want to interview the guards.”

  Klement’s eyebrows arched. “They’ve already been interviewed once.”

  “We have some new evidence that we need to talk to them about.”

  “New evidence?” Klement raised his hands in a questioning manner.

  “We can’t disrupt the program any more,” Rogers said.

  “Excuse me.” Prosper stepped forwards. “I thought you were just in charge of the guards, not the experiment.”

  Rogers folded his arms across his chest. “We all assume roles, but we’re all part of the experiment. We all want to see results. That’s why it’s important not to disrupt the research.”

  “This is a murder investigation,” Brundle said. “T
hat takes precedence over your … experiment.”

  Rogers nodded, the hint of a smile on his thick lips. “It’s all one and the same.”

  “And what’s that mean?” Prosper asked.

  Rogers shrugged.

  Klement stepped forwards. “We’re at a crucial stage of the procedure. Any disruption now could set us back months.”

  “Have you not been listening to a word I said?” Brundle snapped. “We need to interview the guards, so either you grant us access, or I start wheels in motion to shut this place down.”

  Klement chewed his lip and exhaled slowly. “Okay, okay, we’ll set something up.”

  Ten minutes later, Prosper found himself sitting behind a desk with Brundle and Williams on either side. The guards were then escorted to the room one at a time. Prosper had them sit opposite, and then he started asking them questions:

  “What do you know about the escapes?”

  “Were you involved in them?”

  “Did you know that, Peter Clarke, prison number 142345 has been found dead?”

  “And did you also know that he couldn’t possibly be the killer, as he was killed at the time of his escape?”

  “Did you kill him?”

  All of the guards up to now had expressed shock and confusion. Prosper didn’t get a feel from any of them. Next up was Rogers.

  He plunked himself down in the chair and leaned back, arms folded across his chest. “I hope this isn’t going to take long,” he said, narrowing his eyes into slits.

  Prosper shrugged. “It’ll take as long as it takes. Now, what do you know about the escapes?”

  “I’ve been through this already. You have my statement on file.”

  “Go through it again.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “The point, Mr. Rogers, is that we’ve found Peter Clarke.”

  Rogers sat up straight. “Great. Then what’s all this about? Bring him back and we’ll sort him out.”

  Prosper leaned forwards. “I would if I could, but as you well know, he’s dead.”

  Rogers visibly bristled. “Dead?”