The Domino Killer

by Neil White

  Proctor’s fingernails tapped on the table surface before he slammed his hand down, unable to control his anger. ‘You’re a killer, just like me.’

  Helena stepped round the guard and slapped Proctor hard across the face, the crack of her palm on his cheek turning everyone silent. ‘I’m nothing like you!’

  The guard grabbed her around waist and tried to pull her away.

  ‘You come here to lecture me about morality,’ he said, standing up, his eyes wide with rage. ‘You’re no different.’

  ‘You’re the one in a cell, not me,’ she screamed, and kicked out at the table.

  The sound of footsteps was loud. Firm hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away. Another guard grabbed Proctor and pushed his head down to the desk.

  ‘The police will find the others soon,’ she shouted, as she was led towards the door.

  ‘Others?’ he said, muffled.

  ‘Yes, the others. I know where they are.’

  She hit the door hard as she was pushed through.

  The last word she heard him shout as she was propelled towards the exit was ‘Helena!’ The word was filled with anger and confusion and the knowledge that she’d won. That would torment him. That was her prize.

  ‘Here she is,’ Joe said.

  Helena was walking towards them, her finger under her nose as if sniffling, but when she climbed in there was no sign of tears.

  ‘You all right?’ Joe said.

  She straightened her hair. Her cheeks were red. ‘I will be,’ she said.

  ‘Where do you want to be?’

  ‘Just take me home. I need to pack.’

  Joe and Sam exchanged glances.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Sam said.

  ‘I’m selling up. I can’t live there any more, too many memories of my sister, and of Mark and all of his lies.’

  ‘Where will you go?’

  She thought about that. ‘Somewhere hot. It’s time for a new start. I might even change my name, so that I can disappear. I need to put all of this behind me. There’s nothing for me here except bad memories. I want to go and never be found again.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Sam said. ‘Well, good luck, I suppose. You’ll come back for the trial, though?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She frowned and leaned forward, put her hand on the back of Sam’s seat. ‘This sounds stupid,’ she said, ‘but my father’s workshop…’

  Joe looked at Sam. He remembered the workshop. The candles, the damp feeling in the air.

  ‘I was thinking about it before I came up here,’ she said, ‘and about the girls they never found. Well, Mark spent all of his time in there and I never really understood why. The floor is really uneven, you see, as if someone has been digging in there and refilling it, but why would they do that? Then I think about the ones they’ve never found…’ And she shuddered.

  Joe knew straight away what she meant. They were in the workshop, buried. He thought back to it. The candles, randomly spaced. He got it now. The candles weren’t there for light. They were markers, little flickering souvenirs of what lay beneath.

  Sam pulled his mobile from his pocket. He dialled a number and whispered into it that he needed to meet at Helena’s house.

  As Joe watched in her in the rear-view mirror, Helena looked out of the side window, her handbag on her knees. She looked composed, almost content.