by Lee Shepherd
‘So what you are telling me is that this doesn’t look like it’s going to be a one off, and you honestly think he will strike again, if he hasn’t already?’ Taylor asks her, fearfully awaiting her response.
‘What I am telling you, Detective, is that I believe he will not only strike again, but that he is developing a real taste for it and is enjoying his work. I don’t believe for one second that it was by coincidence that Amber’s body was discovered: I think that he has grown confident since the first two girls, and that he wanted Amber to be found. He is secretly loving the attention the media have placed on the case, as he does not know how to handle that level of attention in his personal life!’
Taylor, startled by the depth of her observations from such a small piece of information from forensics, immediately gathered his team and proceeded to inform them of her theories. He explained how all lone teenage girls in the area are potential next victims, due to the perpetrator’s Modus Operandi.
Chapter 11
Meanwhile, back at the Lee household, Georgie was absolutely correct, as a now elated Charles was secretly revelling in all the local and national media attention. On one hand he couldn’t wait to get back out and find another girl to take, and indulge in a game of cat and mouse with the police. But on the other hand, he knew that they would be frantically searching for him, and he could not afford to make any potential mistakes. He thought on it for a moment and decided to wait for a couple of weeks until the publicity died down and see what developed in the meantime, and just continued to go about his everyday business as usual, even going as far as joining in prayers at church that weekend for the missing girls and the family of Amber Thompson.
It was now early March. Although Detective Taylor and his team, working alongside Miss Riley, were exploring a couple of leads and had brought in two men matching the profiling for questioning, they had no concrete evidence or definitive proof linking the men to the girls, or motive for that matter, and therefore had to release them, adding further frustration to the investigators.
The excitement was becoming too much for Charles to contain, as he thought to himself he had outwitted the police for a second time. He laughed at their incompetence in secret, and thought that now might be a good time to get back to the task at hand, and maybe help the police along the way. However, this time he would throw them a curveball; Mr Beattie would finally get his comeuppance, instead of a young girl — he was curious to see if Cumbria’s finest in the constabulary could connect the dots.
***
Charles informed Rebecca the next day that he would be attending a business conference the following afternoon after work which would require him to be away for an overnight stay, as the conference was in Windermere in the heart of the Lake District. Although Rebecca thought this a tad unusual at such short notice, she never questioned her husband, as she knew he was doing all he could to make the practice successful and provide the family with a comfortable lifestyle. She just told Charles that she would miss him and asked him if there was anything in particular he needed to pack so she could prepare it for him. Charles informed her that everything was taken care of and he would only be needing an overnight bag, but thanked her anyway.
Charles woke bright and early the following morning, and after walking Tess then having breakfast, he kissed his two daughters on the cheeks before planting his lips on Rebecca’s and gave her a long, lingering kiss. He instructed the children to behave for their mother, then told them he would see them all tomorrow. He exited the cottage then waved them goodbye, as he made his way to his car and drove away from the property.
Charles had a real sense of purpose about him this morning, and could not wait to get the formalities of work out of the way so he could concentrate solely on his preparations for his extracurricular indulgencies. Even Linda, his secretary, could sense that he had a spring in his step.
‘What’s made you so happy this morning, Charles?’ she asked, as she made him his customary morning coffee.
‘Lake District conference today!’ he said happily, then explained to her how he would be leaving just before lunch, instructing her to pass over all his appointments for the afternoon to his colleagues.
Linda wasn’t best pleased, as she knew the other vets wouldn’t be very happy at having their workloads increased at such short notice, and knew she would end up taking the brunt of their frustrations, but she couldn’t argue; again, resigning herself to the fact that he was the boss, after all.
Charles then took himself through to his office to contemplate tonight’s events, and booked himself into a nice hotel in Windermere via his office computer to keep up appearances in case Rebecca was to question the truthfulness of what he had told her. As soon as it turned 11am Charles decided to leave the practice and make his way towards Windermere and check into his hotel room. He contemplated having a glass of wine whilst sitting out on the balcony that overlooked the beautiful and tranquil Lake Windermere, but stopped himself as he knew he had to remain one hundred percent level-headed and composed for what he had to do.
As evening drew ever nearer, Charles prepared a small rucksack to take with him which contained the remainder of the chloroform bottle, cable ties, surgical gloves, a small bottle of bleach, a length of rope, a balled gag with leather straps — the kind usually found in back street adult sex shops — a Stanley knife and, finally, a can of spray paint he had bought from a local hardware shop close to where he was staying. All he had to do now was wait until night arrived. He spent the remainder of the evening casually lying atop of his hotel bed, intently watching the twenty-four hour news channel, desperately hoping to catch a report of the on-going investigation. His mind raced over what would happen once the police discovered Jim’s body, and if they would be competent enough to link the cases. He thought it was unlikely, so had a plan to leave them a very specific, but cryptic, clue to see if the psychological profiler he had seen on his TV screen alongside Detective Taylor was as smart as the police had portrayed her to be.
***
At 10.30pm, Charles decided he had waited long enough, and thought that Jim would probably be pouring vast quantities of whiskey down his neck before falling into an alcohol-fuelled slumber. Charles didn’t bother to bring any ketamine along with him this night though, as he didn’t want Jim to have the benefit of being unconscious when he got what was coming to him!
As he got into his Volvo and started the thirty-five to forty minute drive from Windermere to Haywood farm just outside of Wigton, he finally realised that he was now about to get the revenge he had desperately dreamed of all those years ago when he was a helpless young victim himself with nobody to protect him. His palms became increasingly sweaty and his heart raced faster the closer he came to the farm. He drove just below the speed limit all the way there, so as not to draw any attention to himself. He finally pulled up in a quiet country lane, the kind that only locals and farmers alike would know of, switched off his engine and exited the vehicle, shouldering his rucksack.
Charles stealthily made his way through private fields for nearly a mile before he found himself on the acres of land that surround the secluded Haywood farm. He gradually crept up towards the rear of the farmhouse, crouching so as not to be spotted as he approached ever closer. He spotted a light coming through the corridor from the front — it seemed like Jim might possibly still be awake — so he trod carefully, slowly pulling on the surgical gloves. He checked to see if he could prise open one of the dining room windows, to no avail. Gingerly, he made his way towards the back door and was shocked to find it unlocked; he gently pushed down on the handle, pausing for a second as the old wooden door creaked, then swiftly slid through the opening. Slowly and quietly, he closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock.
His adrenaline now surged throughout his body as he removed the chloroform from his bag and filled his handkerchief once again, creeping along the hallway towards where the light was coming from in the sitting room. As he peered arou
nd the door leading into the sitting room, he could clearly make out an empty whiskey bottle laid out in front of an old armchair; Jim slumped, intoxicated, upon the armchair. Charles began to relax slightly and placed the handkerchief back inside his pocket; when Jim was in this state, it would take some considerable effort to wake him up.
With Jim passed out, Charles casually sauntered to the front door of the building to ensure it was also locked. Charles knew exactly what he had in store for Jim. He made his way back to the door he entered through and removed the keys, as he knew that Jim always kept the key to his gun cabinet alongside his house keys. Charles then made his way back through to the sitting room, turned the TV up slightly to drown out any screams, then approached the unconscious Jim. Smiling slightly, he started to remove Jim’s clothing as he slept.
The old man stirred slightly as Charles began to remove his trousers and underwear. He called out for Edna whilst still asleep; for a split second, Charles began to pity the naked, sweaty, fat old man sleeping in front of him. The pity wasn’t to last though, as he remembered exactly why he was here, and what Jim had subjected him to.
Charles again went into his bag and removed the industrial strength cable ties and placed a couple around Jim’s ankles, binding them shut, then did the same to his wrists. Still, Jim did not wake. It wasn’t until Charles placed the balled gag inside of Jim’s mouth and pulled the strap hard as he tied it behind his head that Jim woke up in a state of shock and panic. He then desperately tried to make sense of what was happening but found it difficult to focus due to the vast amount of alcohol in his system. All he really knew was that there was a very serious possibility of something terrible happening to him.
Charles then dragged Jim to his feet from his seat with one mighty yank, and walked him towards the large coffee table that sat in the centre of the room. Charles instructed Jim to get down on his knees, stretch his arms out in front of him and bend over the table. He removed the rope and tied it through Jim’s trembling wrists, then connected the other end to the radiator on the wall in front of him. Charles then viciously severed the back of Jim’s ankles with the Stanley blade, cutting right through his Achilles tendons in doing so to make sure he couldn’t get back to his feet. Jim tried to scream in agony, but his terror was muffled due to the gag in his mouth. Through the horrendous pain and shock he was in, Jim desperately tried to figure out just why the man he had invited into his home for coffee just a few months previously was doing this to him, but he was at a loss and could not understand what was happening.
Charles could sense that he was still unaware of his true identity. Sneering, he said, ‘Let’s see if this jogs your memory, eh, Jim?’
He took out the can of paint, removed the mirror that hung from the middle of the wall and started to write.
If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
Jim looked up at what he had written and immediately recognised it as a verse from the Bible, but still couldn’t place Charles’ face. However, he also knew in that instance that it must be one of the victims of his abuse.
‘Now, don’t you go anywhere!’ Charles said sarcastically, and let him ponder over the Bible passage as he made his way out of the sitting room door and towards the stairs.
As he made his way up the stairs he grinned, as he could hear Jim whimpering and trying to free himself in desperation. Charles knew he wasn’t going anywhere and took his time searching for the locked cabinet that contained Jim’s licensed shotguns. He finally found it in the master bedroom and took the keys from his pocket and proceeded to unlock it. His eyes lit up as he discovered two firearms: one was a high calibre hunting rifle that he just passed right by, the other one, however, a single barrel shotgun. He picked the shotgun up and admired it wistfully. He then took a couple of cartridges from the box beside them and loaded one into the chamber.
As he made his way back down the stairs and towards the awaiting Jim, he noticed a thick, brass buckled belt hanging over a chair sat beside the door and decided he would put that to use also. Suddenly he couldn’t help but wonder what Detective Taylor and the psychological profiler Georgina Riley would think once they discovered his latest work, and how they would view the man they were searching for.
Jim was totally slumped over on the table as Charles made his way back into the sitting room, in a kind of acceptance of the fate that was about to befall him. Charles placed the gun on the sofa, just out of arms reach of Jim but just close enough so he could see it, as if to rub salt into already stinging wounds, in a manner that suggested, ‘if you can get it then you can gain your freedom’ — but Charles knew it was a fruitless opportunity.
He then raised the belt aloft in his right hand and softly asked Jim, ‘How about now, you sick fucking bastard!’
Before Jim even had time to think, Charles brought the thick buckle down upon the bare backside of Jim with one almighty swing that sent waves of excruciating pain throughout the old man’s body. Lash after lash was delivered in a crazed frenzy, every one of them reminding him of the first time Mr Beattie had done it to him as an innocent, petrified schoolboy. This just spurred him on even more, and Jim’s backside and lower back were covered in severe welts and blood by the time Charles regained his composure and relented what he was doing.
He put down the belt and approached Jim from the front; he noticed that Jim’s face was completely tearstained and he appeared to be on the verge of passing out due to the sustained torture his body was being subjected to.
‘DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE PASS OUT, YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT! I HAVEN’T FUCKING FINISHED WITH YOU YET!’
He spat at the vile paedophile in front of him. Charles then lowered himself down to Jim’s level of vision and looked him dead in the eye.
‘Take a closer look, Jim, and tell me who you see.’
Charles held his gaze as Jim racked his brain trying to figure out who the man actually was that stood in front of him. After a few moments Charles saw in his eyes a moment of recognition and at that point he removed the gag from Jim’s mouth so he could speak.
‘No, no, it can’t be. Jonathon?’ he asked, desperately hoping he was wrong.
‘And finally, the penny drops!’ Charles snarled.
Jim frantically tried to apologise and reassure Charles that he had repented for his sins in a vain attempt to make him stop whatever it was he is about to do to him.
‘Save your apologies, old man. The time has passed for that, now the time for retribution is upon you at the hands of the man whose life you ruined at a time when I needed you the most. I want you to know that I am going to enjoy every last minute of condemning your soul to hell!’
Charles then picked up the shotgun beside him and once again Jim pleaded for his life. His pleas fell on deaf ears. Jim then tried to scream for help, but this just made Charles laugh as he aimed the gun towards Jim’s face and teasingly waved it in front of him.
‘Open your fucking mouth,’ Charles ordered. Jim hesitated, and Charles repeated more forcefully, ‘I said open your fucking mouth, or I will blow your head off right now!’
This time he did as he was told.
Charles then placed the barrel into Jim’s mouth and ordered him to suck it. He then repeated the words he had been told the very first time Jim had forced him to perform oral sex on him.
‘Don’t you dare try biting or screaming,’ he said, ‘because if you do, I will break your skinny little neck and bury you in the garden!’
He then forced the barrel deeper into his mouth, pushing it towards the back of his throat until it finally made him vomit. As Jim was throwing up, Charles smiled at him.
‘Look at yourself you pathetic coward. Not very nice is it, Jim?’
All Jim could do was offer apology after apology but Charles had heard enough. It was time to put an end to this, he thought, then placed the gag that was hanging from Jim’s
neck back into his mouth once he had finished throwing up. He then made his way back towards Jim’s heavily bleeding backside.
‘Now for the finale, Jimmy boy,’ he said maliciously. ‘Hold on tight, because I have a feeling this might hurt you ever so slightly!’
With that, he forcefully rammed the saliva and vomit soaked barrel deep into Jim’s rectum then proceeded to violate the beast of a man as he had done to him, totally removing any last bit of dignity Jim might have held.
Once he had humiliated him enough, not to mention the internal damage he had caused, he offered his final statement to his abuser and calmly said to him, ‘You reap what you sow, old man. Tell Satan it was a messenger of God that sent you.’
Charles gently squeezed the trigger, and with an almighty bang, the shot-filled cartridge was dispatched into Jim’s rectal passage and ripped right through his intestines and midriff, killing him instantly. Charles stood frozen to the spot for a few moments, his face totally covered in blood and faecal matter from the back draft of the force. His eyes were wide and his heart raced, then suddenly he was brought to his senses as the stench of human faeces filled his nostrils as Jim’s bowels loosened and excrement oozed out of the gaping hole which was once his back passage. Charles was just about to grab his things and leave in case anybody had happened to hear the gun shot, but he paused to further desecrate Jim’s body by taking out his Stanley knife from his pocket, slicing off Jim’s penis, and placing it inside his mouth before repositioning the gag back in his mouth so it wouldn’t fall out.
Charles stood back and proudly looked over his work for a few moments before gathering the remainder of his things and making his way towards the back door. He happened to catch a reflection of himself in a mirror that hung on the wall and made sure to wipe his face with a towel he found in the kitchen before he left, cleverly placing it inside his rucksack once he had used it so not to leave any DNA evidence at the murder scene.
