Be My Killer: A completely UNPUTDOWNABLE crime thriller with nail-biting mystery and suspense

by Richard Parker

  A Chrysler was parked against the right-hand side of the entrance, the headlights facing them.

  Rena tensed around Hazel.

  They hadn’t clocked it there, and whoever was seated inside had been watching their progress. Hazel recognised the deep cherry bodywork. Wasn’t that the cab that had brought Eve Huber out when she’d been looking for Jacob?

  The vehicle accelerated diagonally across the parking zone, circled around and came to rest between them and the ramp. The door opened and the driver got out.

  His expression was genial. ‘Looks like you could use a ride.’ The lenses of his spectacles magnified his blink.

  Hazel hadn’t absorbed his appearance during the shoot, but as she looked over her shoulder and took in his unkempt sandy hair and avocado shirt, she wondered if Rena could have been mistaken.

  He got back inside his Chrysler, and Rena attempted to drag them back towards the entrance. They were stranded between the complex and the car, and they couldn’t move fast enough out of his path.

  ‘We have to go back.’ Rena was still trying to retreat.

  ‘Wait.’

  She slipped free of Hazel. ‘Run!’

  The driver revved his engine, and the Chrysler surged towards them.

  108

  As the vehicle accelerated, Hazel shoved Rena harshly sideways. But as she tried to throw herself clear, one of the wings grazed her right hip. Hazel spun and dropped to the ground hard.

  The driver braked.

  Adrenaline overrode pain and Hazel scrambled upright. ‘Stay behind it!’

  Rena rose from where she’d landed and hobbled over to her.

  The Chrysler remained motionless about twenty feet away.

  ‘Get ready to go left, if he reverses.’ Hazel’s whole frame pulsated from the blow. ‘He can’t turn as fast as we can.’

  Rena nodded and didn’t take her eyes off the rear of the car.

  The engine revved and it shot back.

  They dodged at the last moment, and it glided past them.

  ‘Head for the entrance!’ Hazel yelled. But she knew Rena was going to take triple the time it took her to get there.

  The vehicle screeched to a stop.

  ‘Right here!’ Hazel waved both hands at him.

  But he took off after Rena.

  ‘Rena!’

  She glanced back but there was no time for her to react.

  Hazel heard a hollow thud and watched Rena shunted off her feet and travel into the air before she fell heavily onto the concrete.

  The Chrysler halted abruptly a few inches from where she’d landed.

  ‘Rena!’ Hazel waited for her to move.

  The car was reversing again, diagonally at Hazel. She bounced from foot to foot then cut left and sprinted towards Rena but the driver skidded to a standstill and catapulted forward.

  Hazel could see Rena’s eyes were closed and quickly darted right.

  The vehicle would have to follow suit, which meant it would bypass Rena. She weaved her way to the complex and could hear the tyres scuff as they turned in whichever direction she did.

  The entrance doors parted. Hazel was nearly inside but realised the concourse didn’t offer any safety. He could easily drive over the threshold and run her down.

  109

  As the gunning engine vibrated in her chest, Hazel pumped her arms and jogged left.

  The car struck the edges of the open doors, shattering both panes of glass from their frames. The wing mirror smashed against her right elbow, and the Chrysler shot past and slammed into Meredith’s shrine.

  Hazel found herself sprawled on the tiles, her injuries only a vague buzz as she focussed on the motionless vehicle. The front of it was concertinaed against the pillar but the windshield was intact. The engine had cut out. Hazel shakily stood before there were several clicks and two heavy thumps from the driver’s door.

  It swung open violently. He’d kicked it with both feet. The soles of his tan desert boots touched the floor as he gripped the warped frame to heave himself out. It creaked under his weight, and he turned in Hazel’s direction.

  The driver adjusted his spectacles and fixed her with his enlarged blue gaze. But his attention shifted to the passenger door. He tugged it open and extracted an oily brown baseball cap with a dark leather peak. Jamming it tight on his head, he leaned in and pulled out a long, telescopic metal pole.

  Hazel backed towards the main entrance. What the hell was that? She saw a white spark flare at the prongs and guessed. Turning to flee, the right side of her pelvis was suddenly numb, the leg below it buckling and almost bringing Hazel to her knees. She looked over her shoulder and saw the driver closing the gap between them, the cattle prod extended in readiness to incapacitate her.

  She had to lead him away from Rena so made straight for District Burger. There was a way out at the rear where Griff Needham had got in. Hazel could escape via the junkyard.

  The restaurant was only thirty feet away but her limb was suddenly a dead weight. Hazel could hear his steady footsteps echoing over her erratic ones. She anticipated a bone breaking.

  Hazel reached District Burger, skidded inside and yanked down the shutter. She didn’t know where the key was to lock it to the floor and was just darting her eyes around when his shadow fell across her. He angled the prod through one of the shutter holes, and it grazed her knuckle.

  She recoiled in time but almost lost her balance as he withdrew it and bent to roll the shutter back up.

  He got his fingers underneath.

  Hazel was back on her feet and staggering to the counter. She heard a harsh rattle as he hurled up the shutter.

  Lifting the red hatch, Hazel let it drop down behind her and barrelled through the swing door. She stumbled through the tiny prep kitchen and pushed on the next one. It only opened a couple of inches before it thudded into something solid.

  She shoved against it, but the panel was immovable. Peering through the gap she could see that one of the old rusted chest freezers from the junkyard had been jammed there. Hazel threw her whole body against the door, but there was no way she could budge it.

  110

  Hazel’s head spun to the swing door behind her. The driver still hadn’t appeared. He was probably biding his time because he’d positioned the freezer to block her escape. She returned to the aluminium workstation in the middle of the room. There weren’t any tools she could use as a weapon, only stacks of dusty plastic tubs.

  The driver entered, unblinkingly assessing her situation before extending the prod towards her.

  ‘Don’t fucking touch me!’

  His eyes slanted as he stretched his arm so the telescopic pole bridged the length of the prep counter between them.

  Hazel leaned away from it. He couldn’t get nearer without moving down the longer side of the table. She could see that register in his eyes and, as he glimpsed briefly down at his footing, lunged forward and grabbed the prod an inch below the end.

  She jerked it, but he maintained a firm grasp. They held the position for a few seconds and then he started circling the counter. She shifted in the opposite direction, towards the swing door that led back to the restaurant. The driver halted when they faced each other halfway along the surface.

  The end sparked a few inches from her neck, and he started thrusting the prod towards her. Her hand shook as she tried to resist but he was forcing her spine against the tiled wall. Soon Hazel wouldn’t be able to stop the prongs going into her throat.

  As he put his whole body weight behind it, Hazel suddenly released her grip and dodged to the right. The driver fell forward into the stacks of tubs, and Hazel seized the weapon again.

  He still wouldn’t relinquish it so Hazel tipped the edge of the table towards him. His bulk slid down it, and she grunted and used both hands to hinge it on top of him. Hazel battered back out of the swing door, through the hatch and onto the concourse.

  Dragging herself to the main entrance, Hazel paused at the bathroom and dared
to look behind her but there was no sign of pursuit.

  She inched towards the broken doors, all the time watching District Burger and anticipating him emerging. There wasn’t another exit – unless he had the strength to bulldoze the freezer from the rear. Was he coming around the front of the complex to intercept her? She waited and listened. Where the fuck was Soles? Hazel’s attention settled on the Chrysler against the pillar.

  Hazel crossed the tyre tracks, tiptoed through the shards and peered in the open driver door. The key was still in the ignition; still no trace of the driver at the restaurant or main entrance.

  If she made a run for it outside there was no telling how long it would be before her leg gave out. But if she took his car and picked Rena up, he couldn’t catch them. That’s if Hazel was able to get it started. And if she didn’t, the sound of the engine would alert him to exactly where she was.

  She dropped into the seat, softly closed the buckled door and turned the key.

  The motor chugged a few times then cut out. Hazel checked the entrance and District Burger. No movement. She tried again and it strained longer. If he was inside Fun Central, there was no doubt he’d heard her.

  She had to go. One more attempt.

  Hazel yanked the key hard, and this time the engine started. She put her boot on the pedal and glanced in the mirror – still no evidence of the driver at the entrance. Putting the car into reverse, she scraped the compressed metal away from the shrine. But as soon as it broke contact, the vehicle died again.

  She kept wrenching the key but it was silent. Now Hazel was rolling backwards towards the doors, the tyres crackling over glass and dead leaves.

  Hazel applied the brakes and knew she’d left it too late to abandon the Chrysler. But, as she got out, the driver still hadn’t come to investigate. If he hadn’t emerged from the restaurant it was likely he was waiting for her in the parking zone. She had to find another route to Rena.

  She hauled her leg over to the door that led to the stairs and opened it.

  Footfalls behind her. Hazel swivelled to the main entrance and saw a shadow fall there. She was just about to enter the stairwell when she sidestepped it and ducked into the ball pit.

  111

  Through the smoked glass of the ball pit entrance, Hazel could see the stiff hinges still hadn’t allowed the stairwell door to close properly. She hoped the driver would spot it and head straight up there. As soon as she heard him ascend, Hazel would steal outside. By the time he’d searched the rooms, she could have Rena safely hidden in the forest – if she was still alive.

  Hazel crossed the faded orange carpet tiles, lifted herself to the edge of the ball pit, slid in and kneeled down. The balls settled around her face. The smell of latex was potent, and her hot breath bounced off them. Her right elbow throbbed angrily, and it was the first time she’d registered the pain of being struck by the wing mirror.

  Boot soles ground broken glass. She stopped breathing. They left the shards and got louder. They were approaching the door to the stairs.

  ‘Hazel?’ The male voice echoed along the concourse.

  Hazel recognised it. Sweeting.

  ‘Anyone?’

  He’d come back. Had Sweeting had second thoughts or was he collecting his gear? If he’d been dropped off in a cab she’d been too busy trying to start the Chrysler to hear it. She had to warn him he was in danger. Hazel stood and quickly swung herself back over the side of the pool. She padded to the entrance and peeked out.

  ‘Sweeting.’ But it wasn’t Hazel who called him.

  She observed Sweeting, a bandage around his head, halt twenty feet from the stairwell door and turn to the main entrance. The driver was standing there.

  ‘Where the hell have you been? We’ve been waiting for you so we can get started.’ The driver marched towards him.

  Hazel hung back. Did Sweeting know him?

  ‘Thought you’d chickened out on us.’

  ‘Where’s Hazel? And who the fuck are you?’

  The driver was still a couple of feet away but extended the prod from where he’d concealed it at his side.

  ‘And whose car is that?’

  Hazel opened her mouth but Sweeting convulsed, collapsed and rolled onto his side. She clamped her palm over her lips as she watched the driver zap him under his armpit three more times. Sweeting locked into a foetal position and the driver circled him, as if considering doing it again.

  He looked up and down the fun zones, and Hazel took a step back from the door. She kept one eye trained on him as he crouched and plucked the turn-up of his chinos from his tan desert boot. There was a black sheath strapped to his leg. He undid the clip and withdrew a hunting knife with four holes along the brass handle. Slipping his fingers into them, he effortlessly jabbed the silver blade into Sweeting’s neck.

  Hazel bit her hand as he twisted it once and wiped it on Sweeting’s shoulder.

  112

  Hazel was lying flat on her back along the bottom of the pit. The balls were hollow and weightless but she could feel their contours pressing against her body and eyelids. If she needed to run, they’d slow her down. But the driver would have to climb into the pool to reach her in the middle, and there were four different sides to use as exits.

  Maybe he’d intercepted Soles in the parking zone. But she hadn’t heard his car arrive either. Whatever accounted for the officer’s absence, she was on her own. Her stomach grumbled for the third time. Hazel heard the driver make his way to the Chrysler and assumed he was removing the key. If he’d been waiting outside for her as she’d tried to start it, he knew she was still in the complex.

  The bathroom door creaked open and shut. No more footsteps. He must be hunting for her inside. She hastily took some lungfuls of stale air, and the balls rustled as her chest rose and fell.

  Should she flee while he was in there? It would take her seconds to cross the concourse to the entrance but maybe that’s what he expected her to do. Perhaps he’d simply opened and closed the bathroom door and was standing outside, watching for signs of movement. She wouldn’t know for sure until she’d given herself away.

  The bathroom door complained again. His footfalls recommenced but changed pitch. He was crossing to her side, and his soles became muffled as he walked onto the carpets of Neptune’s Party Zone. It wouldn’t take him long to confirm she wasn’t in there.

  She visualised him stalking the coral tables and, moments later, his feet echoed briefly back onto the concourse before entering the ball pit.

  Hazel went rigid as she felt the soft impacts along the floor. He stopped as he surveyed the room. She was positive one breath in or out would make the balls shift and betray her hiding place. She couldn’t even disturb them by blinking. Closing her eyes tightly she could hear the squeal in his throat. All his exertions were obviously taking their toll.

  The driver remained motionless. He was listening. Hazel’s circulation began to pummel her ears. There was no way she would inhale while he was still out there. She’d black out first.

  Metal scratched across plastic sheeting. He’d put the cattle prod into the pool and was dragging it through the balls. Hazel fought her body’s impulse to struggle against her lack of oxygen. She couldn’t work out which direction the prongs were travelling. If he was moving in line with the side, she should still be out of reach.

  Her stomach gurgled.

  The activity stopped. Hazel’s eyes opened.

  All the balls around her quaked; he was getting into the pit.

  His mass displaced and compacted them around her. He had to be within a few feet. As they continued to churn she curled into herself.

  Over the clamour in her head she discerned the prod being forcefully jabbed into the pool at random but now a shadow was blotting out the dreary light. Hazel didn’t know if it was the driver or impending unconsciousness.

  As he waded forward, she anticipated an electric charge from the prod or the pressure of his boot on her limbs. The tide of plastic surg
ed, and Hazel decided she had to spring up at him before he discovered her.

  A loud thud.

  He’d stepped over her and clambered out of the pit. But he was still loitering there, and Hazel had to restrain her shoulders from pumping. The light began to dim and move away from her, as if the bottom was dropping and the pool was getting rapidly deeper.

  Still no sound of his exit from the room but, as her oxygen-starved brain began to close down, his presence no longer seemed to matter.

  113

  Hazel clawed her way to the surface of the ball pit and tried not to vocalise the agony of her first breath. The air was cool on her perspiring face but she stayed on her knees as her heart stumbled around in her chest. Had the driver even left the room? She waited for the inky blobs in her eyes to be burnt away by the weak light and was relieved to see he’d gone.

  She didn’t know how long she’d blacked out but it could have been only seconds, which meant he was probably still nearby. The percussion in her ears slowed but she heard a different thud overhead. He was upstairs. She ploughed her way to the edge of the pit, heaved herself out and dropped quietly onto the carpet.

  Hazel limped to the door. Sweeting’s motionless body was in the middle of a large pool of blood.

  The driver’s footfalls above told Hazel he was working his way through all the rooms. He’d be back down as soon as he realised she wasn’t there, and that was all the time she had to retrieve Sweeting’s phone. She’d call Lucas.

  Hurrying to where Sweeting lay on his side, Hazel hesitated at the circumference of the dark puddle. It had spread out from him by three feet, and she’d have to tread in it to reach his pocket.

  Hazel’s petrified expression was reflected in it as she carefully tested her good left foot on the liquid and allowed it to take her weight. She gradually leaned forward and extended her hand to Sweeting’s parka. Feeling the pocket, she found nothing. Was it in the other? If so, he was lying on it.