by J. S. Law
“Come now, Danny, don’t let events change the past,” he said, smiling again, straightening his head, and leaning toward her, resting his forearms on the table.
“I’m not,” said Dan.
“Okay, if you won’t discuss victim blaming with me, what about male privilege? Do you think I could have stayed undetected for so long if I hadn’t been a white male?”
Dan shook her head slightly, not saying no, just trying to catch up with the question and the change of direction.
“No, in truth, probably not,” she said.
“Exactly,” he said, holding up a finger.
Dan let out a long breath and placed her hands, palms down, on the table. She made to speak several times, each time stopping, unsure what to say.
“Look, if you’re trying to communicate to me that you’re a racist, misogynist rapist, then you’re preaching to the choir,” said Dan at last. “Honestly, I’m already there, utterly convinced of it.”
He sat back and took in a deep breath. All traces of humor melted from his face and he looked at her hard, his eyes cold.
“I thought you’d be more fun than this, Danny, I really did. Tell me, did you get my mail? Why’ve you come now?”
Dan steeled herself and looked back at him.
His eyes were what unsettled her.
Hamilton’s eyes were so changeable—one minute they were full of life, shining and bright, and then they’d cloud, the life running out of them like water off a windshield, and they’d be dark, black, reptilian, pitiless, and she was sure she’d glimpsed the man who’d murdered again and again.
“I thought you might be ready to talk,” she said, a preprepared answer to this anticipated question.
“I’m trying to talk now and you don’t want to.”
“I do. I just don’t enjoy having feminism and equality mansplained to me by a male I believe to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of women.”
He snorted.
“It wasn’t hundreds,” he said, like a petulant and pedantic child correcting a parent.
“How many was it?”
He looked at her and smiled.
“As if it would be that easy, Danny.”
Dan shrugged.
“So why did you want me to come here?” she asked. “I won’t lie, I didn’t read your letters after the first or maybe second, once I knew what they were and recognized them. I just shredded them.”
He raised his eyebrows at that, a little taken aback.
“Shredded my letters? Really? I feel a little bit hurt by that, Danny. It would’ve only taken a few moments to read them.”
“Pace of life, things to do, not much time for serial-killer mail. You know how it is.”
“Any other interesting mail that might be worthy of a mention?” he asked.
“Not unless you’ve been sending me a load of religious stuff, trying to draw me into a local church.”
He nodded. “You’d be surprised what I’d send you, Danny,” he said, and smiled.
“So why do you want to talk?” she asked again.
He moved in his seat, settled himself, and placed his hands on the table in front of him.
“I want to help you, Danny.”
“Why?”
“Is there any answer I could give that would satisfy you, really?” he said.
“No, but it’d be nice to think you’d spent some time coming up with a convincing lie.”
He smiled at that, the corners of his eyes creasing, and it occurred to Dan that a man like this didn’t deserve to have laugh lines, didn’t deserve to have had the moments that led to them.
“I’ve decided not to lie. I have my reasons, and they will remain my own, but I have decided to help you, Danny, not the National Crime Agency or local police, but you, specifically you.”
“And if I tell you to shove your help up your ass?”
He laughed again, louder, slapped the table with one hand.
“Ah, I’ve missed your winning ways, but I doubt you will, such is your sense of right and wrong.”
“So tell me how many people you murdered and start telling me where we can find their bodies. Once I confirm what you’re saying’s the truth, then we can really start to build up trust and move on from there, but you’ll need to give me something.”
He drummed the tabletop with his fingers, four solid, quick beats in a row, then a pause before he did it again. It was all that broke the silence.
“I don’t think that’s how this is going to work, Danny. You see, I want to help you, but first I need you to understand how I can help, and in order to do that, we’ll need to go on a journey together, figuratively, I mean, I doubt they’ll let me actually come along with you, but I need to establish value.”
Dan sighed, making sure it was loud and obvious.
“I knew you’d react this way,” said Hamilton, smiling. “I even prepared myself for your actions, but I need you to be honest with me, for just a moment. Someone has to go first, right? So tell me, truthfully, why you decided to come now.”
Dan weighed it, looked around the room as she thought about what she could say, the lies she could try, the lines they’d prepared this morning, but Hamilton, though he seemed simple in many ways, was far from it. He was an expert in reading body language, reading people’s intentions while hiding his own.
“The NCA received some evidence. The evidence, which hasn’t ever been seen before, comes from murder victims that we believe you abducted and killed. They really have very little to go on at the moment and they hoped you might be willing to help.”
She watched his reaction, trying to read it and failing.
He listened without reaction, not even a flicker of his eyes, and Dan couldn’t help but wonder how much he already knew.
“Well, I did say that I’d help you, Danny, not the NCA.”
“Then help me here.”
“You’re not on the case yet, though, are you? Someone else has taken your spot.”
Dan hoped that she’d managed to conceal her surprise at his knowing that; the slight smile that crossed his lips told her she hadn’t.
“No, I’m not at the moment, but I am assisting.”
“By speaking to me?”
“Yes, by speaking to you.”
He drummed his fingertips on the tabletop again and again.
“That’s very irritating,” said Dan.
He stopped immediately.
“You’re a dogged investigator, Danny. You’re a dogged person, really. So I’ll say this. You need to find out about a gentleman named William Knight. I think if you take that all the way to its conclusion, then we’ll be able to have a much more fruitful conversation when you visit next time.”
Dan nodded and stood up to leave.
“Until next time, then,” she said, and headed for the door.
“That’s it, Danny? You don’t have any questions for me at all? We’re supposed to do a minimum of thirty minutes.”
Dan stopped and turned back. She looked at Hamilton.
“Okay, one, maybe two.”
“Fire away, Danny, I live but to serve you.”
“How did Matt Carson find you when you were outside that storage hangar up near Aldershot? How did he know you were there? Everyone he wanted to kill was there, so why would he come out looking for you? For anyone?”
Hamilton smiled and nodded, like an old man remembering a fond liaison.
“You know, next time, why don’t you bring a chess set with you? I know it’s a cliché for archrivals to be playing chess, and I know you’re not a player, but I’d be happy to teach you. It’d also give you somewhere to look when you can’t bear to look me in the eye anymore.”
“I’ll mull it over,” said Dan. “And my question?”
“I’ll mull that over, and I’ll let you leave early without penalty while I do,” Hamilton said. “But don’t forget what I said about victims, Danny,” he said, as Dan neared the door and reached out to knock. “Take
precautions. I very much doubt that any victim of a brutal rape feels much better knowing it wasn’t her fault.”
She knocked twice before turning back to face him.
“I won’t forget,” she said.
“And find out who the evidence was sent to at the NCA. There may be a clue in that alone.”
Dan nodded, waiting for the guard, and the silence stretched out between them.
“How’s your back, by the way?” he asked.
Dan felt the blood drain from her face. The only other people who knew about the attack she’d suffered and the injuries to her back were Felicity, Roger, and the people who’d carried it out. She’d long known deep inside that Hamilton had been responsible for the attack, that he’d ordered it, requested it, paid for it, but however he did it, he was behind it, and now he admitted it to her.
Dan forced herself to smile at him.
“It’s okay,” she said, “it’s not like someone opened me up with garden shears.”
The door opened, and she left without looking back.
18
Natasha Moore—Mid- to Late October (two months before disappearance)
“I’m so glad to be alongside again, aren’t you?”
Natasha looked over at Gary Black, who was hunched over his computer.
He tapped the keyboard a few times and then turned to face her.
“Definitely,” he said.
“I know you’ve done loads of sea time, and I’ve just finished my first three weeks, but I really feel like I’ve earned a night out tonight.”
She saw him smile as she waited for her account to log on.
“I found a used condom in the phone booth on X-deck,” said Natasha, shivering a little bit at how gross it had been when she’d looked down and seen it next to her boot.
Gary looked round and shook his head. “Not nice,” he said.
“Yeah, I think one of the bootnecks is seeing one of the other girls in my cabin. I’d heard they were having alone time there, but he should at least clean up after himself.”
“Royal Marines,” said Gary, as though that explained it all.
“Thing is, I told Jason about it, and now he’s being…”
Natasha tried to think about how Jason was being. He was like a teenager, grunting at her when she spoke, despite the fact that he was twelve years her senior. He was also mentioning Susi all the time, as though her name was a weapon to hurt Natasha with, to score petty points in a game Natasha didn’t even want to play. She’d always liked that he was older, seemed more confident and settled. She’d liked that he didn’t play the games that the boys her age did, that he didn’t pressure her to do things she didn’t want to do yet. She liked how he’d support her in everything, without question; he always backed her, made her believe she could achieve anything, go anywhere, even when it meant leaving his job and bringing her down to Portsmouth to join the navy. He was there for her, always. He was the only person who ever really had been.
“He’s being…” repeated Natasha, still not sure how to put it.
“A dick?” said Gary, without even turning away from his screen.
Natasha looked at his back, thought that she should defend her fiancé, then didn’t, because he was being just exactly that. For the first time ever, he was being a dick. She was going for a night out and she didn’t want to call him before she went, because she knew he’d stress her out and ruin the night for her.
Her account was taking ages to log on. Though she didn’t feel like speaking to Jason, she’d e-mailed him a long letter last night, explaining how he was making her feel, and she was anxious to see whether he’d replied.
She’d been honest and open, about her being away at sea, about him mixing with this Susi woman. She’d told him she didn’t want to be like her parents, her mum particularly, ignoring problems for as long as possible before running away from them to find the next one. She was hoping to catch his reply before she left work to get ready, assuming he’d been able to reply.
Black was looking at her, she could feel it, and she turned back to him while she waited.
“I was thinking, if you wanted,” he began, pausing and looking away as he often did, his cheeks flushing red, “we could hang out or something on this stop? Maybe after work today?”
Natasha was shocked and must have looked it.
“I just mean, like, grab some food and wander into town or something,” he added quickly. “You know, just to kill some time or something.”
Natasha couldn’t help but notice how he’d used several words that he normally wouldn’t and how it made his lisp so much more apparent when he did. She looked at him carefully.
He was a decent boss, and Natasha liked him well enough. He was a little unpredictable, almost huffy at times, a bit too tactile on occasion, and that could feel creepy, but he seemed like a decent guy.
Now she couldn’t tell if she was being asked out on a date by him, something she’d definitely not want to do. She paused and saw him blush again before he stood up and approached her.
“You’ve got something in your hair,” he said, and reached out.
She felt his hand run across her hairline, brushing her cheek.
The awkwardness in the compartment was palpable and she knew the longer she waited to answer, the worse it was going to get.
“Thanks,” she said, as he moved, brushing against her shoulder as he flicked something away that she couldn’t see. “But I can’t tonight.”
He looked at her and walked back to his computer.
“What about nipping out for lunch or something tomorrow or the day after?” Natasha asked.
He nodded but didn’t look back round, instead becoming quickly engrossed in his computer.
“I could use a day hanging out with a really good friend,” she said. “So if you fancied it, we could nip into town. Though I’m not sure you’ll like the shops I’ll want to visit…”
Natasha let her words to trail off, hoping for a smile from him, as they’d often talked about his hatred of shopping, and crowds in general, but he said nothing for a moment, not even turning around.
“Who’re you going out with tonight?” he asked after a long silence.
Natasha tried hard to keep it conversational and upbeat.
“I’m going to see if Jason’s e-mailed me back. Then I’m meeting Mark for a quick run, before we all head into town.” She watched him, hopeful of a positive reaction. “You should come,” she added quickly. “There’s a load of us going.”
“You won’t get anything from lover boy. He’s gone out,” said Black quickly, before tapping on his keyboard again.
Natasha watched for a moment and turned back to her screen, frowning and unsure what Black meant, but not wanting to get further into anything that might lead to her night, or mood, being ruined. She double-clicked on the mail icon.
“We’re heading out pretty much straight after work. So you can come along if you want,” she said. “But everyone’s keen to get going. I’m literally doing a fifteen-minute, high-intensity session and then getting ready and I’m out of here.”
Her e-mail opened up and she saw a message from Jason, immediately clicking on it.
Can’t chat. Heading out. Agree with what you say and will reply properly when back later. Love you. x
Natasha’s stomach seemed to flip as she read the message. It was a massive brushoff. She’d no issue with his going out, of course she didn’t. She was going out tonight herself, and he couldn’t be expected to stay in for three months, although he was supposed to be saving money while she was away so they could get a deposit and move out of the flat they were renting and into something that they’d own, something that was really theirs, to work on, build up, and improve together. They’d both agreed that they wanted to get a place with car parking if possible, maybe a garage in case Jason was ever able to start mobile catering, something he’d really fancied for a long time.
She read the message again, and then again. S
he’d poured her guts into her e-mail to him. Had come clean about how she felt about their separation and how they could get through this together while she carved out a career for herself in the navy. She’d already talked to Lieutenant Cox about selection for the commissioned ranks through the Upper Yardman scheme. That’d mean more money, better promotion prospects, a better future for both of them.
She’d told him all of that. She’d made it clear that she could only do it if they stayed strong; both of them had come from nothing and only had each other. And after that, all he’d had to say was that he was going out …
Natasha turned to Black.
“How did you know he was going out?” she asked.
Black turned to look at her, confused.
“What?”
“You said I wouldn’t get much from lover boy because he was out. That’s what you said, just a few minutes ago. But how did you know?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He shook his head as though she was being daft and turned back to his computer.
“That’s what you said. When I said I was going to check my e-mails and then head out, that’s what you said to me.”
He was shaking his head, but not looking at her, acting as though he was engrossed in the work he was doing.
“Gary,” Natasha said, knowing she sounded exasperated and speaking louder than she meant to.
He spun to look at her, his face red, his sudden action making her jump.
“I don’t know what you’re on about and I don’t know who you think you’re talking to,” he said, his breathing deep. “Honestly. I was probably talking about Coker. He’s going out, isn’t he?”
Natasha blinked a few times.
Black was big, but over the short time she’d known him he’d nearly always been friendly, benign even. Now, with his voice raised and his fists balled as he leaned forward in his chair toward her, he was really, really intimidating.
“Okay,” she said, knowing she was on the verge of tears. “Okay, it’s just that…” She paused, not knowing what to say next and feeling tears start to fall. “I’m just going to go to the heads.”
She got up and walked quickly to the door.
