by Matt Shaw
“That you wanted to talk to me? Or that you believed our neighbour was the one responsible for what’s been going on in the news? Yeah - she told me. Was that you?”
“Was what me?”
“Don’t play clever. Did you phone the police?”
Thomas shook his head.
“You didn't phone the police? You didn’t tell them about your half-arsed theory about the neighbour?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you phone them? You think our neighbour is a murderer and you keep it to yourself?” Ryan was starting to get angry. It wasn’t the fact Thomas believed the neighbour to be the killer which made him angry. It was the fact he’d dare to try and upset his daughter by scaring her. Especially when she was already struggling to come to terms with the move. At this point, after all the stress they had had with the move, all Ryan wanted was some peace and quiet. Thomas backed up a bit. He could see Ryan was getting angry.
“It’s just a theory I have,” said Thomas. “I have no proof yet. I couldn’t go to the police. They wouldn’t take it seriously. Not without proof. I write books…” he went to explain but Ryan cut him off.
“I know - Claire told me. And you want a chat about my work colleague Vanessa. Well here you go. Her name is Vanessa. At least her name was Vanessa. It looks as though the sick son of a bitch, who took her, killed her. He cut her hands off and sent them to the bank,” nothing was confirmed. The hands hadn’t been identified yet - at least not to Ryan’s knowledge - but he knew the chance of the I.D coming back positive was more than likely.
“What? That’s great…” Thomas spoke without thinking. He wasn’t thinking about it being someone’s life. He was thinking about how great the story would be for his new book. Ryan wanted to knock him to his arse with a punch to the face - something to knock some sense into him - but he didn’t. He knew better than that. Could have been a different story had Thomas been a little older. He wouldn’t have felt bad for hitting him had they been the same age. Even though he couldn't hit him, he still couldn’t help but crack a little smile at the thought. He quickly hid it.
“Listen I don’t care what you think you know. I don’t care. And I don’t want to talk to you about your book. Truth be told I think the whole thing is silly. Stupid even. You need to grow up a bit. Find a sensible hobby - at least something you can make some money from. Writing is notoriously hard to do. This is me being a nice neighbour. Pointing you in a better direction…”
“I’m good at writing,” Thomas argued.
“…More importantly I’m trying to point you in a direction other than my daughter. She’s young - like you - she’s impressionable. I don’t want you filling her head with silly little ideas which make her feel uncomfortable in her new home. She’s already finding this move hard enough without you putting these thoughts in her head. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Thomas nodded. He hesitated for a moment as though he wanted to say something. Ryan decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, “What is it?”
“I didn’t call the police,” Thomas said. “I thought Claire did. You know, after I told her. If you’re saying it wasn’t her and it wasn’t you…And I’m telling you it wasn’t me.” He paused. “Why did the police take him away?” He put two and two together and quickly came to five, “I was fucking right! I told you!”
“No - you weren’t. If you were right then they’d have come with a search warrant and an army of police - which is exactly what I told Claire. Look, just stop putting silly ideas in her head and leave her alone. Okay? That’s all I ask. Leave all of us alone.”
“What’s going on?” Mike had walked in through the front door. And once again Ryan was caught having an awkward conversation with someone in the hallway. “There a reason you’re asking my boy to leave your family alone? Something I should know about?”
“Your son has been telling my daughter his theories about the recent spout of killings. I’d rather he didn’t. She’s having enough difficulty in adjusting to her new home without being scared of the neighbour…”
Mike had already turned his attention to his son. When Ryan had finished talking, he half expected Mike to have a go at him but - to his surprise - he wasn’t too bothered by his son’s revelation, “You told them too?”
“His work colleague was snatched by the guy. I just wanted to get an interview…”
“You and that fucking book,” Mike cut in.
“You know about all this? You don’t think it might be worth getting him to spend his time doing something a little more…”
Again, Mike cut in, “I won’t tell you how to raise your children and you won’t tell me how to raise mine. Okay?”
Ryan went quiet almost immediately. He hardly knew Mike and wasn’t sure how far he could be pushed before he’d lose his temper. He turned his attention back to Thomas, “I’ve said what I wanted to say so…Just keep your theories to yourself.” He walked over to the front door, which Mike was blocking, “Excuse me, please.”
“If it was him,” Mike said with a lowered voice, “wouldn’t you want to do something about it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This guy - whoever he is - he’s been hacking up girls and leaving them lying around. Could be your daughter. Could be mine. It’s already close to our home if it’s already reached your place of work…What if it is him? Wouldn’t you want him to taste some of his own medicine? See how he likes it?”
“I’d want him to go to prison and serve time.”
“Really? A private cell? Meals? Yard time? At the cost of the tax-payer. Scum like this guy - whoever he is - they don’t deserve to be alive. Should bring back the death penalty for people like that…”
“Look as lovely as this is - I’ve said what I came to say…Excuse me please,” Ryan said again as he tried to get to the front door.
“And if it is him - do you really want him living so close to your family?”
Ryan snapped, “The police are with him. They came around and collected him. If it is him - he’s already in custody so I don’t need to worry about it…”
“The police took him?” Mike turned to Thomas. Thomas nodded. “You called them? We spoke about this - we’d get some proof first. Wait for him to leave his house and then get in there…”
“Wait. What? You were planning on breaking into the guy’s home? What - you were hoping to find a stack of body parts, or something incriminating? And you’re encouraging this? Jesus Christ!”
“He rarely leaves his house since his wife was murdered a few years back. When he does - he enjoys spending time in the woods. I’ve followed him up there before now. The same paths the dead girls have been found on. Yes, I’ll break into his house if it helps get evidence of who he is.”
“And you think the police will thank you for breaking and entering?”
“The police would never find out.”
“Oh - sorry - I forgot. You’re the judge, jury and executioner. Should have told me over dinner the other day.” He took a deep breath before he slowly let it back out again - trying hard not to let the rage overcome him. “Just let me out of this fucking house and stay away from my family. Your wife too. Stay away from us.”
Mike and Ryan held each other’s gaze for a moment before Mike took a step to the side, giving Ryan access to the front door. Ryan paused a moment - half expecting another back and forth. Nothing was said. He opened the door and left. As he walked over the garden he didn’t bother minding the flowers like he had on previous trips across the grass. He just stepped on them. Squashed flowers symbolising the crushing of neighbourly relationships. He opened the door and stormed through to the lounge where Dee was sitting with Jackie - enjoying their hot drinks and a couple of biscuits.
“Sorry,” said Ryan, “Mike was asking after you. I said you’d be right over.”
“I’m sure he can wait five minutes,” Jackie laughed as she took another sip fr
om her drink.
“Your drink is on the kitchen side,” said Dee - not sensing the foul mood Ryan was trying to hide from his neighbour.
“I think it was important,” he pushed Jackie. She took the hint.
“Oh, right,” she turned to Dee, “well I’d best get back and see what’s wrong. He’s been acting strange all week so clearly there’s something he wants to talk about.” She laughed, “As long as he’s not having an affair…I think I can handle anything else he throws at me.” She stood up. Dee stood up with her and walked her to the front door.
“Thank you for today,” she said, “we’ll have to do it again sometime soon.”
“Of course but I think my credit card needs a little time to heal first,” Jackie laughed.
“Tell me about it!” Dee opened the door and Jackie stepped out, calling her daughter as she did so. Kara came running down the stairs and joined her mother on the doorstep. “Got everything?” Kara nodded. “Okay well - take care and chat later.” She closed the door after her neighbour had also said her goodbyes. When she turned back to the living room she noticed Ryan was standing there - a pissed off expression on his face. She presumed it was to do with the credit card admission. “Don’t fret, I didn’t spend much!”
“I don’t want you seeing her again.” Ryan snapped.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want you seeing any of them again. You hear me?” He waited for her to agree to his demands.
“Where did this come from? I thought you liked them?”
“I don’t want to go into it. But I don’t want you, or the girls, hanging around with them. Okay? They’re not right. Trust me…” He turned and walked towards the kitchen where his cup of (now lukewarm) tea was waiting for him. Dee followed him.
“No - you can’t just stop me from seeing them without telling me why. What brought this on?” Ryan didn’t answer her. He just stopped by the back window and stared out of it - cup of mildly-warm tea in his hand and a blank expression on his face. Unknown to Dee, he was replaying the whole conversation he’d had with Mike and his son back through his head; haunted by how obsessed they both seemed to be with the recent killings. And to think - he had said to Dee that it was only a matter of time before people set up vigilante groups. Was this the start of it? Had he moved into the worst possible area? Vigilantes on one side of his home and a killer on the other side? And what of his other neighbour - the quiet one - why’d the police come for him? Is it all related?
He was still wearing the trousers he’d worn to work for the last two days. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a business card belonging to Detective Andrews - the lead detective in charge of Vanessa’s disappearance. Ryan contemplated phoning him. He figured he had a right to know why the neighbour was pulled from his home. He had a family to protect after all.
Dee pulled him back to reality, “Until you tell me what your problem is - I’m going to do as I please.” She turned from the room and shut the door, closing him in with his thoughts. The last thing he heard from his wife as she walked down the hallway (back to what he presumed to be the living room) was that he was being ridiculous. He was tempted to call her back, bring her back in, and explain everything but she’d probably still think he was being silly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I looked at the pretty girl. Claire. All this time and she was right on my doorstep. Just goes to show I needed to get out a little more. Met my neighbours. Had it not been for them coming around my house, I might never have noticed her. The fear in her eyes was evident. And for good reason. The news programmes had done a really good job of sensationalising what I do. Not saying that the reality of the situation will be better than what’s reported - it’s just nice that it gives my ladies something to expect. Something to look forward to. Something to dread. I smiled at her as I pressed the knife against her cheek. She tried to pull away but I stopped her with a strong grip of the back of her head with my other hand. She whimpered. I smiled. I like it when they whimper. Their pain, their fear, their sense of dread - it’s all music to my ears. I love it. With no warning (for her) I threw the knife onto the cellar floor. The blade pierced the floor andthe knife was left quivering upright. She screamed out with fear. Don’t blame her. It was quite close to her foot. Such a pretty foot. I’d already taken her shoes and socks off so that I could see her feet. Her prettily painted toenails…Her toes…A shudder of excitement ran through me as I thought about what I was going to do to those pretty little toes. Not yet though. As always I start with the finger nails…I reached under the chair on which she sat and pulled out the pliers. I held them up to her face so she could get a good look at them. Rusty gold pliers tainted with the dried blood of the other ladies who’d had the displeasure of meeting them. I moved them down to her hand and gripped the nail of her index finger with them, applying enough pressure as to make it go white. I wonder - does she have any idea as to how much this is going to hurt? I do hope so. Still, I suppose it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t realise for it won’t be long before the pain makes itself known.
“Please don’t. Whatever you want. I’ll get it for you. Anything. Please.” The voice didn’t belong to my pretty neighbour. It belonged to her father. The idiot who introduced me to his daughter. The idiot who introduced me to my new play-thing. “Please,” he said again.
“Ssh.”
She went to open her mouth again so I yanked on the nail. It split away from the girl’s hand with ease leaving a little bloody slice of skin gaping behind. She screamed. He screamed. We all screamed together.
* * * * *
Ryan woke with a start and bolted upright in his bed. The moonlight spilled in through the window illuminating his room as though it were day as opposed to night. Ryan’s heart was beating ten to the dozen. Beads of sweat were running across his forehead as though he’d recently run a marathon.
“You alright?” Dee asked from her pillow on the bed next to where he lay. He looked around to her. The sleepy look in her glazed eyes told him he’d disturbed her sleep.
“Bad dream,” he said, “it’s fine. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.” Dee didn’t need telling twice. Before he’d even finished his sentence she was practically asleep already. Ryan carefully crawled from the bed so as not to disturb her again. He looked out of the window and noticed a taxi sitting in the road just outside of his house. The driver of the cab reached up and turned the interior light on illuminating both himself and his fare. The neighbour. What had the police officer called him? Mr. Reynolds was it? Mr. Reynolds leaned forward to the driver and handed him what must have been some money before he opened the car and slid from the seat. He slammed the door and watched as the taxi drove off. And then he froze. What was he doing? Ryan squinted into the night to try and see. The tall man slowly turned around until he was staring right up at Ryan’s window. Ryan panicked and ducked down. He couldn’t have seen him watching him. He couldn’t have. It’s not as though they had any lights on in the room. Maybe he just sensed he was being watched? Slowly Ryan positioned himself next to the window so he could move himself up in order to see over the ledge and outside once more. Mr. Reynolds was still standing there - staring straight back into the room. What was he doing? Ryan continued to watch as the man slid his left hand into his trouser pocket. Seconds later he pulled out some keys and a few more seconds after that - he finally turned his attention towards his own home (his front door in particular). Without looking back, he continued down his own drive and out of Ryan’s vision. Ryan didn’t dare move from where he was still crouched next to the window even though he knew he was being stupid. If the man had been released from questioning - surely the police didn’t consider him to be dangerous. Clearly he wasn’t the man they were looking for. He’d helped them and they’d let him go. Everything was fine. Mike and his son, Thomas, were wrong. He wasn’t the threat they believed. He was just a quiet man who preferred to keep himself to himself. Ryan didn’t understand how he wasn’t able to
move then. If he really believed that - surely he had nothing to fear from him?
* * * * *
The rest of the night had dragged. It was hot and sticky, but Ryan wasn’t comfortable in opening the window to let some air in. His imagination got the better of him. So, the neighbour looked to be innocent of whatever the police wanted to talk to him about. So what? It didn’t detract from the fact that somewhere - out there - a killer was lurking and there was nothing stopping said killer (in Ryan’s imagination anyway) from climbing in through the open bedroom window and killing everyone in the household whilst they slept.
By the time Dee stirred from her sleep, Ryan was already dressed in a fresh suit ready for a day at the bank.
“You’re going to work then?” Dee asked.
“I haven’t heard anything so I guess we’ll be open today.” Unless another package was sent to them - a thought which passed through his mind but remained unspoken. There was no point in saying anything like that to Dee. She’d only worry that whoever took Vanessa could come back and hurt her husband. Ryan internally told himself off. There’s still no proof that Vanessa hadn’t just walked out. Just because they can’t get hold of her, or her parents, it doesn’t mean she’s been taken. Chances are she’s just been taken on holiday by her mum and dad. Somewhere nice and hot, Ryan hoped. Besides - there was no evidence that suggested the person in the news took old people; like Vanessa’s mum and dad. If he did take them all then it meant he’d changed his pattern and Ryan knew - admittedly from the films he watched - that it was rare for serial killers to act in such a manner. “Did you need the car?” he asked Dee. She shook her head and snuggled back down into the bed as though telling him she planned to stay there all day. Bitch. Not long left now before the school holidays were over and she’d be getting out of bed at the same time. Not long at all. She should just enjoy it whilst she could. Part of Ryan wished he still had more holidays to take at the bank. If so - he’d be sure to time it with Dee’s first few days back in the classroom. She’d have to get up and he could snuggle down in the comfort of their bed. See how she liked it.
