by Helen Phifer
He paused. What was his name? Panic set in. He couldn’t remember, but then it all came back to him.
‘Colin… I’m Colin and that is Gordy. Is he going to be all right?’
The doctor looked at the nurse who was staring at the two policemen standing by the side of his bed.
‘Colin, is that man over there Gordy Marshall?’
Colin nodded then winced as pain shot through his head. ‘Yes, that’s Gordy. Why?’
The doctor turned to the policemen and nodded his head.
‘We just need to know so we can get him sorted out.’
‘Oh right. Why are the coppers here? They were chasing us. I haven’t done anything wrong and I don’t want to go home. I’m old enough to stay with the circus if I want.’
‘Of course you are; you don’t need to go home. I think these policemen will want to talk to you. Do you feel well enough to speak to them?’
He nodded.
‘Good, that’s a good lad.’
The biggest man of the two came across to his bed. ‘Colin, why did you run away when you saw us?’
‘You can’t make me go home. I like it here. I got scared you were going to make me go back to my ma.’
‘Were you with Gordy this afternoon?’
‘No, he went for a walk on his own.’
‘Do you know where he went?’
Colin paused. He didn’t want to get his friend in any trouble – and what was a crushed larynx?
‘It’s all right, son; I just need to know if you saw where he went.’
‘He went into the park. I think he was mad at me and I was going to follow him to tell him I was sorry, but he began to talk to some girl in the playground so I left him and went back to the caravan.’
__________________________
The policeman was nodding his head as he tried to write down everything the lad was telling him. He had been right. They had their monster and he had been dressed as a clown. Of all the dirty, rotten tricks. Everyone knew that kids loved circus clowns and wouldn’t think they were evil hiding behind a smiley face. They knew it had been a clown because when they’d moved Ester’s body there was a crushed bunch of silk flowers – the kind that clowns pull out of their sleeves – underneath her.
Young had everything he needed. The bastard in the bed opposite couldn’t move his head or speak because of his injuries, but it didn’t matter. He would keep one of his lads with him until he was fit enough to be moved to the prison. That sick bastard wouldn’t be hurting any more kids because as soon as he was well enough they would be hanging him. It was a waste of good hospital care in his opinion.
Chapter Seventeen
Walter Lacey didn’t feel very well. He opened his eyes, wondering where the hell he was. He knew he wasn’t in his bed; that much was for sure. He tried to move and heard the groaning creak of the springs in the knackered old sofa. He groaned even louder. He didn’t remember getting on the sofa; he didn’t remember going to bed. In fact he didn’t even know what day it was or what time.
He felt in his pocket for his crappy pay-as-you-go brick of a phone and felt the smooth, cool, silky material of the clown suit underneath his fingertips. What have you done, Wally? Why are you dressed in this suit and why don’t you remember? Panic filling his chest, he tried to get off the sofa, but he felt hot and dizzy. He must have picked up some kind of bug in that old woman’s house yesterday. It had been pretty grotty in there.
Rolling until he fell off the sofa onto his hands and knees, he let out an even louder groan. He felt as if his head was about to explode everywhere and leave brain juice and matter on the walls and furniture. His body was soaked with stale sweat. He could smell the mustiness whenever he moved as it permeated the air around him.
Pulling himself to his feet he stumbled forwards, afraid he was going to fall over and not get back up. He managed to just keep on his feet and made his way in the direction of the cramped bathroom. As he threw open the door and turned on the light he gripped the cracked, grubby sink and stared into the broken mirror. His face was white. There was a big red smudge across his cheek. He leant in closer. What is that? He began to rub at it with his fingertips. He licked them, rubbed at the mark, then licked them again and gagged.
Blood. It was dried blood. There was no mistaking the metallic taste and it was all over his face. Looking down he saw his hands were stained the same colour. Fear filled his entire body; he’d done something really bad. He knew he had, but what and to who? When he looked down at the clown suit he let out a scream. The white of the silky material was stained dark red.
He began to try and get it off him, dancing around in the confined space and praying it wasn’t fused to his skin like it felt it was. Stripping it off he kicked it to one side and looked at his skinny arms and legs. They were stained red. Whose blood was that? He didn’t remember getting dressed and going out of the flat, but then it came back to him. He’d gone into the park and then what? Yes, he’d gone into the park out of sight of anyone, but he hadn’t been alone, had he? Someone had followed him; he remembered feeling as if someone was breathing down his neck as they watched his every move.
He’d turned around and there was no one there. Some invisible man was watching him. He began to laugh, which sent shock waves through his head. He lifted both hands to clutch the sides of his head, pressing his hands against his ears to drown out the sound of his own voice because it sounded like the voice of a mad man.
Turning on the shower he forced himself to step under the lukewarm spray. He’d have given anything for a scalding hot shower to rid himself of the blood that had dried all over his body like some kind of war paint. Wally had given up asking the landlord to sort his heating out. It cost him too much credit on his crappy phone to ring the number and try and get through to him.
Squeezing the last of his shower gel over his hands, he scrubbed away at his skin, raking it with his nails. He didn’t like the fact that he had no recollection of what happened after he’d left the park. He was going to have to venture out later on and buy a newspaper to see if there was any mention of a body being found. As he stepped onto the cold tiled floor – which was a death trap with wet feet – he began to towel-dry himself.
He felt a bit better than when he’d woken up now he was clean and didn’t smell as if he’d been rolling around in an abattoir. His head was still hurting when he moved it. Pulling on a pair of clean boxer shorts and a T-shirt he went and climbed under his bed covers. He might as well try and sleep off this awful hangover-type thing he had going on inside his head. He wouldn’t have minded if he’d been drunk last night. He knew he wasn’t because he didn’t have any alcohol in the house.
It was something to do with that clown suit. He should throw it away, get rid of it. He’d never wanted to kill anyone before he’d brought it into his house. It was as if it was cursed. The voices in his head had always been muted until now. Someone had turned the volume up and he didn’t know if it was him. He threw back the covers, pulled on his jogging pants, slipped on his trainers and got a carrier bag from under the sink. He walked into the living room, expecting to see it hanging up on the back of the door and exhaled with relief to find it still in a crumpled mess on the floor where he’d kicked it off.
Using the carrier bag he picked up the suit then tied the handles in a knot. He left his house swinging the bag and trying to keep it as far away as possible from himself. He crossed the road and went back into the huge public park where he walked until he found a bin. He stuffed the carrier bag inside. He made sure no one was watching him and then walked away.
He felt much better. His head still ached, but not like it had when he’d opened his eyes this morning. He felt lighter, better, as if he’d done the right thing for the first time in his shitty life. A couple of hours’ sleep and he could go out for a paper. If he kept his head down this might all blow over and no one would be any the wiser about his murderous spate of killings. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope in
prison. He’d rather die than be locked up for the rest of his life. He might have a crappy life at the moment, but he could make an effort to do something and change it, couldn’t he?
__________________________
Will heard Alfie stir and got out of bed, taking him downstairs with him so Annie could have a bit more sleep. He’d forgotten about last night until he walked into the kitchen to see the monitors on the island. He also saw the empty knife rack, which reminded him he needed to ask Annie where they were. He would give her another half an hour and then wake her up; they needed to talk about what was going on and why she was so scared.
Like an expert he changed and fed Alfie, then sat him in his bouncer in the kitchen so he could watch him put everything back. He disconnected the monitors, carrying them back into the utility room. He never heard Annie come downstairs.
‘What are you doing?’
He tried to dismiss the high pitch of her voice, not wanting to believe she was still upset that much.
‘Just putting everything back to normal for you.’
‘Well, don’t bother; I want them out here – where I can see them at all times, not stuck in there out of sight. I can’t sit in there all day and watch them. There isn’t enough room for all Alfie’s stuff.’
He stopped and turned around, putting the monitor he was carrying back down.
‘What’s wrong, Annie? This isn’t like you.’
‘I don’t know. I feel scared being here on my own with our son.’
Will’s phone started ringing. He ignored it.
‘I don’t want anything to happen, but I don’t know if I can stop it this time.’
His phone began to ring again and he picked it up. It was work. He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t. It might be important.
Annie glared at him, daring him to answer it. He did his best to not press the green button, but at the last second he did.
‘Ashworth.’
He shrugged and mouthed sorry to Annie who didn’t see because the tears that had filled her eyes had made her turn around.
__________________________
She didn’t know why she was acting like this. She did know that she wouldn’t let him see her crying just because he’d had to answer his phone. She bent down to pick Alfie up and take him into the living room to sit on the sofa with her. She turned on the television and the screen filled with the familiar sprawling green lawns and the bandstand in the middle of the park in Barrow.
Her heart missed a beat. What had happened? She had been there in her dream last night. Could she have stopped it if she hadn’t got so scared by the clown man and ran away? Will walked in saw the television screen and bent down to kiss her cheek.
‘I have to go. There’s been another murder.’
Annie nodded. What could she say? This was his job and she knew that when she married him. Just because she’d had a couple of scary dreams, she couldn’t expect him to not go to work and stay here.
‘I promise I’ll phone you after when I get a minute and we can talk. Why don’t you go and stop with Jake and Alex for the day? At least you won’t be up here on your own.’
‘I might do. I’ll ring you if I do.’
‘Everything’s okay, Annie. We’re okay, aren’t we?’
‘Of course we are. Go find that killer.’
‘I’ll try my best. If you don’t want to go to Jake’s, why don’t you go to my dad’s?’
She forced herself to smile. She adored Tom and Lily but she didn’t want to be stuck there all day. Tom always knew when something was wrong with her and she didn’t want to burden him with anything.
‘I’ll find something to do.’
He turned and walked away and it took every ounce of strength for her not to scream at him to stay, that if he walked out she’d never forgive him. The front door shut behind him and she heard his car start. She couldn’t move. She was frozen to the sofa because she felt the raspy cold of someone standing behind her and breathing down her neck. The thought that the clown from last night had found her exploded inside her mind.
She grabbed Alfie and jumped off the sofa, spinning around at the same time as backing away. There was nobody there; well, no one that she could physically see. She looked around the room to make sure he wasn’t hiding anywhere and was grateful they had decided on an open-plan layout downstairs so they didn’t have lots of hiding places. There was only the utility room and cloakroom that had doors.
She backed up to where she had a knife hidden and pulled it free. If that creepy fucker was in her house then she wouldn’t go without a fight. She ran to the kitchen window to see if Will was still outside and felt her heart sink to see the empty space where only minutes ago his car had been. She could ring him; tell him to come back – and then what? He was going to think she’d cracked up and lost her mind, which was exactly how she was feeling. Everything was out of her control.
Not wanting to put Alfie down while she searched, but not wanting to have to fight with him in her arms, she didn’t know what to do. She ran outside and strapped him into his car seat, then sent a quick text to Jake. ‘Can you come to mine as soon as you can? Need to speak to you.’ She sent it. If there was someone in her house and they got the better of her, at least Jake would be on his way and would be able to take care of Alfie.
She let out a pent-up sob. The thought of being murdered in her own home with her baby outside was too much. She couldn’t not go back in. Whoever it was could lie in wait in there for her or Will to come home, and if she left and Will came back, oh God, the thought of a killer lying in wait for him made up her mind. She’d almost lost him once at the hands of a killer; there was no way she’d let it happen again. She ran into the house and checked the utility room, cloakroom and then made her way upstairs. It was so quiet; the television was still on pause. As she checked each bedroom, she felt a little better until she reached Alfie’s. It was so cold in there she could feel the goosebumps that covered her arms.
‘Who are you and what do you want? I want to know what you are doing in my baby’s bedroom!’
Peering out of the window she could see Alfie in his car seat, gurgling away. Suddenly she felt a small hand slip into hers and she looked down to see the faint outline of Sophie standing there.
‘Sophie, is it you? Have you been breathing in my ear?’
The ghostly girl shook her head and Annie felt her voice inside her mind.
‘No, it’s a man. He’s scared and wants you to help him.’
‘Where is he, Sophie? I can’t see him like I can see you.’
‘He’s standing in the corner. He said he’s sorry if he scared you. He doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to die and it’s happening all over again.’
Sophie let go of her hand and crossed to the corner where she’d pointed moments ago. Annie heard Sophie’s soft, soothing voice whispering in the corner and looked out to check on Alfie, who was now fast asleep. Squinting, she stepped closer to the window. It looked as if his baby chair was being rocked ever so slightly and she smiled. Alice. She turned and faced the corner.
‘You don’t have to be scared; you were very brave to come and find me. I’m sorry I got a bit freaked out. If I can help you I will. Why don’t you tell me or Sophie what it is that you need help with?’
The shrill ring of the house phone broke the silence and Annie knew that the man had left, along with Sophie. Maybe now that she knew about him he would be brave enough to come back and tell her what he wanted. She ran into her bedroom to grab the spare handset, feeling much better. Picking it up she carried it downstairs so she could go and retrieve her sleeping baby from the car.
‘Hello.’
‘Annie, it’s Derek. I hope I didn’t disturb you?’
She didn’t think she’d ever been so pleased to hear his voice.
‘No, you didn’t. How are you feeling?’
‘Much better apart from this name that keeps swirling around in my head and won’t go away.’
>
‘Mine?’
‘How did you guess?’
He laughed, making her feel slightly less guilty about bothering him when he wasn’t well.
‘There’s something going on here that has been terrifying me, but I think I have it sorted out or almost sorted.’
‘Well, seeing as how I’m cooped up in this stuffy bedroom on bed rest until Gladys is home, maybe you could tell me. I’d like to help if I can.’
‘Oh, Derek, you’re far too kind. I don’t want to bother you.’
‘Okay, well, let me tell you what I think and then you can see I already know some of it.’
Annie didn’t answer so he continued.
‘I have a feeling that you’ve had a spirit invading you personal space, getting a little too close and spooking you. I also know that you’ve been having some dreams, which, shall we say, are a little too realistic. Am I close?’
‘You are very close. I have. These dreams feel as if I’m there when it’s happening – watching. And the person I’m watching knows I’m there. He can sense me, but he can’t see me. Not yet anyway. I’m terrified that he’ll discover who I am and come looking for me.’
‘Is this person dangerous?’
She was torn. She didn’t want to upset him too much, but he already seemed to know.
‘Yes, he’s a killer.’
Derek sucked in his breath.
‘Annie, how does this keep happening?’
‘I wish I knew and then I could stop it. I’m so fed up of living my life looking over my shoulder.’
She stared down at Alfie who was still asleep in his car seat.
‘Well, I think the good news is that unless this man is psychic as well, he won’t be able to find out who you are.’
Annie exhaled, not realising she’d been holding her breath.
‘What if he is?’
‘You would have known about it by now. It’s a very rare gift that thankfully not many killers possess. The bad news is I think you may have passed your gift on to that cute little baby of yours and that is why things seem to be taking a different direction than normal. Are you finding it a struggle to connect with this spirit in your house?’
