55

by James Delargy

  Brian turned back to face Chandler, a bushy eyebrow raised, wordlessly questioning why Chandler was here.

  ‘We’re just checking on something,’ said Chandler, answering Brian’s raised eyebrow.

  ‘Checkin’ on what?’

  ‘Someone we thought was up here.’

  ‘And?’ said Brian peering into the darkness around them.

  ‘Nothing. You can go back inside and enjoy your evening.’

  There was a frown on Brian’s face that indicated he wasn’t satisfied. His eyes narrowed as if he suspected the police of being up to something.

  ‘Don’t go around poking in my things,’ he said.

  ‘What would we find?’ Sun had finally spoken, his voice lyrical and unexpected.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Brian, bluntly.

  ‘We’re not going to poke around,’ said Chandler. There was little to poke at, now it had been determined that Gabriel wasn’t in the house.

  ‘Brian, come inside,’ ordered Diane.

  But Brian was curious himself now. ‘Who are these two?’ he asked, nodding his head towards Sun and MacKenzie.

  ‘They’re helping us,’ said Chandler, leaving it at that.

  ‘Well they’re lucky they didn’t get their heads kicked in,’ growled Brian as he backed off towards the door.

  Chandler watched him go inside before turning to Mitch’s officers.

  ‘I warned you about drawing your weapons.’

  ‘He threw a punch,’ said Sun, unmoved by the rebuke.

  ‘You were sneaking around his backyard in the dead of night. You’re lucky he doesn’t have a gun.’

  ‘If that’s the case, then he’s lucky too,’ said Sun, chillingly.

  It was a lot easier at Mincey’s, the man himself out on the porch to greet them, enjoying a late-night rollie. He invited them all in for a beer despite being strictly teetotal since his first wife had left him. He answered Chandler’s questions in good humour. He’d seen nothing out of the ordinary that night other than his youngest son, Wayne, trying to climb out the kitchen window because he’d been dared to. There had been no cars, no bikes, in fact no movement at all until Chandler and company had arrived.

  Calling it in, Chandler received an update from Nick about the other searches. It was the same everywhere, the farms, the bars, the church hall, and even the church itself, all quiet. Gabriel was nowhere to be found.

  All crews regrouped at the station en masse.

  Mitch was pacing the floor, nervous. ‘I want all the other farms checked in case someone’s being held hostage or putting him up for the night.’

  ‘That’ll take until morning at least,’ warned Chandler.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How do you want it done, Inspector?’ asked Luka.

  Chandler was annoyed by how keen to please he sounded. Within a couple of days Mitch had brought the wild horse to heel.

  ‘As with everything,’ said Mitch. ‘Start at the beginning.’

  Start at the beginning. There it was again. Another reminder of the note in the cabin: ‘They have been named at the beginning’.

  As Mitch launched into a motivational speech about redoubling their efforts, Chandler reviewed what Gabriel had said on the phone: the declaration that he was going to kill ninety. It was a shocking boast, possibly one designed to make them panic and abandon the station to leave Heath exposed, but there had been a poise about the way he had said it that made Chandler think that he had an exact plan of how to go about it. But killing thirty-five people could not be an exact science so maybe in stating the number ninety he meant just that. He was intending to kill ninety; not total kills, but the number.

  ‘Gabriel said he was going to kill ninety.’

  Chandler said this out loud, interrupting Mitch as he accelerated into full flow.

  ‘We know that, Sergeant. We’re trying to prevent it,’ said Mitch, more exasperated than angry.

  ‘No. He said he was going to kill – ninety. As in the number. Heath mentioned it in his statement, that the killer said he was going to be number fifty-five. We’ve been looking at it like Heath was going to be the fifty-fifth victim, but what if he was number fifty-five?’

  Mitch was getting visibly frustrated. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if he has killed fifty-four people why are there only six graves and eight names on the list that we can make out? What if it’s the name he’s going for, as if Heath’s name was on a list?’

  ‘What list?’ said Mitch, impatient. ‘The one in the cabin?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chandler. ‘Or a list somewhere else.’

  ‘That’s not very helpful, Sergeant. Come back when you have—’

  Chandler continued nonetheless. ‘He mentioned that Gabriel said, “They have been named at the beginning.” But the beginning of what?’

  ‘I know what you are getting closer to the end of, Sergeant,’ spat Mitch. ‘Your career.’

  Chandler ignored it and looked at his audience.

  ‘It would have to be the beginning of a book,’ offered Tanya.

  ‘What book?’

  There were more bemused looks. Some of the assembled officers chatted amongst themselves, doubting Chandler’s theory or simply his sanity.

  Then the answer came to Chandler.

  ‘Genesis. The start of the Bible. A list of names.’

  He turned to Tanya but she had already dug out the black hardback Bible from her desk drawer, a copy that had been well thumbed but remained in one piece. She opened it at the start, at Genesis. The first few pages revealed a list of names.

  ‘What’s fifty-five?’ he asked.

  She counted up. The officers began to mill around, their attention now with Chandler rather than Mitch, who was trying to get them to focus on the command he had issued.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Chandler, impatient.

  ‘Give me a . . .’ said Tanya. She nodded her head as she counted the last few. She stared up at him. ‘It’s Heth.’

  Chandler looked at Mitch. Upon the uttering of the name he could see the realization wash over the inspector’s face, his lips shading to a royal blue once again. He called out the other names from the list found in the cabin. ‘Adam, Seth, Eve.’

  Tanya scanned the pages. Another excruciating wait.

  ‘All there. In some form.’

  ‘Jared, Sheila, Noah.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘And number ninety?’ asked Chandler.

  ‘Wait,’ said Tanya as she counted out loud. Finally she had the answer. ‘It’s Sarai,’ she said, pronouncing the hard ‘i’.

  ‘We got any of those in town?’ cried out Mitch, aiming this at Chandler and his team. He was met with the shaken heads of Tanya and Luka. ‘No babies with weird names?’ he added hopefully.

  Chandler didn’t answer, grabbing the Bible from Tanya. ‘There’s—’ he said, remembering something he was taught in Bible study many years ago. Flipping over the pages he found it. It sent a chill down his spine and he struggled to get the words out. ‘Sar-ai was renamed Sar-ah at the annunciation of the birth of Isaac.’

  44

  Without a word Chandler bolted out of the office, barely hearing Mitch bark out the orders for a list of all the Sar-ai, Sar-a and Sar-ahs in town and the surrounding area.

  Rushing out the front door, Chandler pushed his way past the reporters, jumped in his squad car and sped off. Turning the corner on to Beaumont he called his mum’s mobile. There was probably no need to worry, he told himself. Another wild goose chase. The sick bastard sending them in circles with Chandler on the blunt end of his knife this time. The phone continued to ring, each unanswered blast heightening his sense of panic.

  It was still ringing as he swung on to Prince’s, the front axle trying to bury itself into the hot tarmac. Where the hell was she?

  On the tenth ring it was picked up.

  ‘Mum?’ he asked, relieved. ‘Are you—?’

  ‘Try again,’ said Gabriel, his soft voice
infused with glee.

  Chandler almost ditched the car into a lamp post, fighting to regain control.

  ‘Gabriel?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, innocently.

  ‘You better not have hurt them,’ warned Chandler, his foot to the floor now, gaining speed, the trees, the cars – his life – flashing by.

  ‘They’re safe.’

  ‘Don’t do anything,’ warned Chandler.

  ‘You either,’ said Gabriel. ‘And don’t think of informing Mitchell or any of the others.’

  ‘Don’t hurt them,’ pleaded Chandler, throwing the car on to Mellon’s. The road was now a blur in front of him. All he could picture was his parents’ house and what might be happening there. He blinked hard to try and block it out.

  ‘You might be too late,’ said Gabriel.

  The threat of violence filled the car to bursting point.

  ‘Let me speak to them,’ said Chandler, his parents’ house not appearing fast enough but the roads too dark and too angular to go faster.

  ‘You will speak to them again – if you do as I say.’

  ‘Don’t you—’ started Chandler, barely containing his anger. The tyres screeched as he turned on to Greensand. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘A swap.’

  ‘What do you mean – a swap?’

  ‘An exchange, Sergeant,’ said Gabriel. ‘Heath for your daughter. For Sarah.’

  Chandler tried to let the demand sink into his overloaded brain. What did he mean, Heath for Sarah? The man in the jail cell in exchange for his daughter? That couldn’t be.

  Gabriel continued, ‘As a rule I’m not a huge fan of killing kids unless absolutely necessary. Of course, it’s also true that being Catholic she was born a sinner, but I can’t hold that against her before she has had a chance to redeem herself.’

  To this Chandler couldn’t find words, shocked into silence. His fugue was such that he was only stirred from it after swiping the pavement and knocking over a ‘For Sale’ sign, the wood shattering as he tore it apart.

  ‘Are you still there, Sergeant?’ said Gabriel, revelling in the power.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Surely it’s a simple decision. Isn’t it?’ said Gabriel. ‘It’s not like the people buried on the Hill, or some loudmouth stranger like Heath, mean anything to you. I mean, you’re a family man; a policeman, not a grief counsellor, aren’t you?’

  Through his confusion Chandler understood he had to keep Gabriel on the phone. Another couple of minutes would be enough.

  ‘Hurry up, Sergeant. Make your decision.’

  ‘I need time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ The soft, mocking voice grew an edge. ‘This is an easy choice. Your kids – your own flesh and blood – in return for a man you don’t know. A man who you don’t even like, I’m sure.’

  Gabriel had got that right. Even though he had been proved to be the innocent victim, there was nothing in Heath’s demeanour that Chandler had warmed to, nothing that marked him as a good person, a person worth saving. But, then again, who was he to judge? Chandler stalled some more.

  ‘I’ll need time.’

  ‘To decide something as simple as this? No wonder you can’t catch me.’

  ‘No. I’ll need time to get him out.’

  Chandler was on Howe Street. Sixty seconds and he’d have Gabriel surrounded. Blow his head off if necessary.

  ‘You have one hour.’

  ‘No, wait—’ said Chandler.

  Gabriel continued, ‘And if I meet any police, state, army, or that ex-partner of yours, I’ll just as easily kill them all. You see, Chandler, God, the police, or even the innocent cannot be allowed to thwart the Devil’s work.’

  ‘I want to see that she’s okay.’

  ‘And you can. Once you bring me what I asked for. And remember: you come by yourself. I’ll tell you where. I know you know your way around the woods.’

  Chandler was on Crowe Street now, gunning towards the porch light, which guided him like a beacon.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Chandler.

  But Gabriel was gone.

  45

  He bounced on to the pavement with a jolt that threatened to throw him through the front window. As he got out of the car and drew his weapon what Gabriel had said spun around and around his head. The threat and the comments, words and phrases delivered as inside jokes that Gabriel seemed to assume Chandler would get. As if he should know Gabriel, or Gabriel know him. Sly remarks about Chandler not caring about the victims and moving on after the cases were over.

  You’re a family man, policeman – not a grief counsellor, aren’t you?

  Plus he knew that Mitch used to be Chandler’s partner. How? Had he overheard something in the station? Or was it that obvious? Or did he just know? He couldn’t be someone they had arrested. Chandler knew this from the date of birth on the orphanage records. Gabriel was too young to have been one of theirs, back when he and Mitch had worked together. Perhaps Gabriel had lied about his age to match Heath’s – to help his story fit Heath’s. There also existed the possibility that Gabriel was someone that Mitch had wronged down in Perth – but then why bring that up here and involve Chandler and his family, if his grudge was solely against Mitch?

  Reaching the front window, he peeked inside. The light was on but his dad wasn’t on guard. The room was empty, the TV off, the piano in the corner unused. Everything looked normal. His hopes grew that Gabriel hadn’t been here after all and the phone call, all of it, had been nothing more than a sick joke played by a sick bastard, leading them – especially him – around for kicks. Hope, however, was an emotion easily extinguished and fear rose to encompass the whole of Chandler’s being as he opened the front door and slipped inside.

  The living room was indeed empty, his heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. The desperation to see his kids, to see them alive, swelled in his heart but he resisted calling out and giving Gabriel forewarning that he was here.

  With his gun drawn, Chandler crept to the edge of the kitchen. Thoughts of the worst possible kind began to fill his imagination, visions of blood and agony, of savage terror. Still he could see no sign of a struggle, no signs of blood or splattered bloodstains, no awful groan of the mortally wounded. Another thought forced its way in. What if no one was here? Could he take that as a good sign or not?

  Sucking in a deep breath, he swung around the corner. The barrel of his gun caught sight of a shape in the middle of the floor, bound to the handles of the kitchen cupboards and struggling to get free. It was Teri, her mouth gagged, her legs flailing on the slippery tiles and failing to find purchase. Her eyes were full of fear and he tried to read if what he saw in them was a warning of danger. She cast her eyes desperately to the right. Chandler followed them. In the far corner of the kitchen, two more figures were slumped on the floor, his parents, bound together, his dad bleeding from a head wound. He ran to them.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked both.

  His mum nodded. His dad moaned in pain.

  Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, he asked, ‘Is he still here?’

  His mum shook her head. Chandler untied them. She pulled off the gag herself.

  ‘He took them,’ she said, gasping.

  Being prepared for this didn’t soften the blow. Suddenly his extremities felt numb as if all the blood had drained from them.

  ‘Both of them? Where?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ his mum sobbed.

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Half an hour. He took my phone with him. Your father tried to stop them—’

  Chandler pulled the gag from his father’s mouth.

  ‘Sorry, son,’ he said, his eyes narrowed in pain.

  ‘Did he hurt—’

  He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘No, he just took them with him. Warned us – warned you – not to tell the police.’

  From behind came a
distraught mumble.

  Chandler returned to Teri and untied her. Her face was a mirror image of his: the same bottomless pit of worry. Expecting a torrent of abuse she instead wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, the first time that they had been close for years, united in fear.

  He moved them all to the house of one of their closest friends a few streets over, his dad reluctantly leaving the shotgun behind so as not to arouse suspicion, and his mum and Teri having to be persuaded not to roam the streets looking for Sarah and Jasper. This time, the reporters backed off as he stormed into the station.

  Expecting the station to be abuzz, it was largely empty. Chained to the front desk and ignoring the buzzing phone, Nick’s face lit up.

  ‘Sarge!’

  Chandler nodded once and put his finger to his lips. ‘Where is everyone?’

  Nick clicked the mouse. ‘At Pete Stenzl’s place. Tom DeVrai rang in about lights being on in Old Pete’s shed and the sound of screaming. They think he’s hiding something.’

  ‘He probably is,’ said Chandler, ‘but it’s not Gabriel.’

  Nick looked confused. ‘How do you know that?’

  Chandler paused. There was no need to reveal what he knew. ‘Just a guess. Pete’s probably got a stolen vehicle or two stowed there. The screaming could be the grinder at work.’

  Nick nodded eagerly. ‘He was asking where you’d gone.’

  ‘Mitch?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘That you went to check on your family.’

  Chandler tapped the desk affirming that this had been the correct response.

  ‘He was going to send a car out to check on you and Sarah if you didn’t come back,’ continued Nick.

  The breath caught in Chandler’s lungs. He didn’t need any officers poking around and wondering why the house was empty.

  ‘They’re all okay. No need to disturb the kids. They’re asleep.’

  Chandler hoped that he had sold the lie. He changed the subject.

  ‘Who’ve we got looking after our prisoner?’

  ‘This is it,’ said Nick, pointing to Roper and Flo hammering at their respective keyboards.

  Two was manageable, thought Chandler.