A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel

by Paula Hawkes

  She looked down at his computer. She let out an exasperated exclamation, “I already have your laptop you bastard,” making a few of the customers look up momentarily from their beers, and prompting Jim to look over in concern. Lilith ignored her. She crumpled up the note and threw it into her bag next to his computer.

  Chapter 41

  China rushed back home. She wanted to pack and leave before Philip came home. She would confront her husband eventually, he was her only lead now, but she just wanted to be out of the house first and she wanted to be somewhere alone to check what evidence might be on Mark’s computer before tackling her husband. She needed as many facts as she could gather, so she would be best placed to identify his lies. She grabbed Philips laptop from the table, stuffing it and its power supply into her shoulder bag, next to Mark’s.

  She hesitated for a moment as she opened the suitcase that was still sitting by her bed, only unpacked yesterday, thoughts of her Italian trip, their Italian trip, flooding back. As she threw clothes and toiletries into the suitcase, she knew that she was not thinking straight. Her rather simple plan was to get packed, get out, check in to a hotel and then take both laptops to the police. They would no doubt want to ask their own questions. She thought that would be a nice little surprise for Philip. First he would come home to find his wife gone, which might not be a surprise if he wasn’t being particularly dense, then the visit from the police. While she knew he couldn’t have killed Esta, there was some involvement of his that she didn’t fully understand yet, and it was a police job to find that out.

  China selected a very nice hotel near where she worked. Her mother dying had left her with enough expectation of inheritance that money would not be an issue for some time. For now, the credit card could take the strain. It felt weird, booking into a posh hotel without her husband. The staff politely took her reservation, showing no qualms when she stated that she was not sure how long her stay would be yet. She chose a small suite on one of the higher floors, and was politely escorted to her room by a smart young man uniformed in the hotel livery who carried her half-empty case.

  Normally China would have spent some time admiring the room, but on this day her mind was most definitely elsewhere. Once she had put her suitcase in the corner she retrieved both laptops from the heavy shoulder bag, and placed them on a table side by side next to a large window commanding views of the square opposite the hotel. She opened both up. She sat there for what felt like ages, not really knowing what to do. The greenery and flurried activity of the people in the busy square below provided her with much distraction for her procrastination. She felt numb, her whole body removed from her brain, and a rational part of her was able to observe herself from a distant corner of the room. She wanted to urge herself into action, but could see that this would not be easy. She was scared that maybe she really did not want to know the worst.

  The last month had been a whirlwind of extremes. Not only had she taken on lovers, something she had never entertained as a possibility before, but one of them had even been a woman. She had lost her mother, who she was just starting to build bridges with, which was actually going to make her quite rich, even if only on paper until everything was sorted out. The woman she had first explored sexually had then been murdered while she was away on holiday with her husband and at the same time as she was taking on yet another lover, with her husband’s full approval. Then she had come home to find out that her first lover disappeared, with the police showing particular interest in him, and discovered that Philip had not only known about her previous assignations with Mark and Esta, but had video recordings of them. It was difficult to piece all this together in a logical way, and even more difficult to believe that this had happened to her. Prior to this her life had been steady, boring almost. Now she had left her husband and was sitting in a hotel room staring at two laptops, both containing potential evidence concerning the recent spate of killings.

  At that point China almost decided to pack up the computers and head off to the police station. But curiosity got the better of her. She had to try and find out what had been going on. Her mind was in a spin, and she needed more information in order to get it back into shape, in order to move on with her life.

  She spent a little more time trawling through Philip’s computer but, aside from the videos in the desktop folder, there was nothing else incriminating that she could find. No e-mails, no other saved files, that might indicate anything amiss. An unsurprising selection of mildly pornographic downloads were present, some lurid images, a few other videos that didn’t feature his wife as the leading lady this time, and some cuckold fantasy related books by his favourite authors in his Kindle library, Audrey Bocklin, Claymore Black and Amber Leigh. But nothing else that betrayed any involvement in recent events, besides those three videos she had found. It appeared that his only stupidity had come with him being unable to let go of the sordid voyeuristic videos that Mark had made of her sexual encounters in his flat. Deep down she hoped that this would allow her to eventually forgive Philip for the relatively minor transgression of keeping the existence of those videos a secret.

  She expected more luck with Mark. He wasn’t living with someone and so would have no reason to hide anything on his computer. It might also explain the lack of a password on his laptop. His files were very organised. There were only a few icons on the desktop, e-mail, web browser, a folder called ‘Photos’ and a folder called ‘Videos’. The wallpaper was a slightly darker version of the picture of Zilda that he had on his wall.

  The first folder that China opened was the one labelled ‘Photos’. There were a simple series of folders inside this one, each with a girl’s name. As she expected, ‘China’ was there, and also several others including ‘Zilda’ and ‘Poppy’. She also recognized that second name, she wasn’t sure where from. There was no folder called ‘Esta’ and she recalled Esta telling her that she had never posed for Mark.

  Not wanting to look at her pictures yet, unable to deal with the feelings of sadness and anger that this action would initiate, she opened Zilda’s folder and browsed through the hundreds of images. Zilda was a truly gorgeous woman and China wondered what had happened to her, why she had disappeared. A terrifying thought occurred to her. What if Zilda had also been killed?

  She quickly opened up the web browser and searched for the name Zilda. Sure enough, one of the recent news results identified Zilda as one of the early victims of the killer that was stalking the streets of the city. She then entered the other names she found on the folders of Mark’s computer. None of the others turned up anything sinister, until she entered the name ‘Poppy’. That also returned a news item concerning the killer. She had been a recent victim too.

  China’s heart was beating faster in her chest and she felt hot and clammy.

  She finally resolved to open up the ‘Videos’ folder and found two subfolders. One was called ‘Zilda’, the other ‘For Hubby’. She opened the second, knowing what she would find. In that folder were the three videos that she had found on Philip’s laptop. The name of the folder was a strong indication that Mark had made these specifically for Philip, and had probably sent them to him. Her hopes for Philip’s lack of involvement receded.

  Opening up Mark’s e-mail she looked in the ‘Sent’ folder and searched down the list for Philip’s name. There was no mention of Philip by name, so she checked each e-mail subject in turn. One was labelled ‘Enjoy!’ She opened this one up and looked at the content, which read ‘She seems to be enjoying herself a lot. I told you I could do it’ followed by a link to some files on an online file sharing site. Just to be absolutely sure, China clicked on this link and waited for the first file to download. Five minutes later the video started to play and sure enough, it was a video of her and Mark having sex in his flat. She quickly shut the video down, not wanting to see any more. She looked at the e-mail again and noticed it was addressed to a ‘HornEnvy@anonG4H6Y7.com’. The signature on the e-mail was ‘Tarb4u’.

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bsp; Despite her curiosity, and needing to know what had gone on between Mark and Philip, she now had enough of a picture to realize they had both set her up. Philip had engaged Mark to help him realize his long held fantasy, and Mark had been a willing and ideal partner, recording the whole affair for Philip’s enjoyment. She felt violated and true hatred for them both. But she also now realised more importantly that she needed to get these computers to the police. The fact that three of the girls who had been killed were specifically referred to in Mark’s files was a huge piece of evidence that the police would need to see. China now could not help thinking that Mark must have been the killer, despite the protestations in his note to her. That was why the police were showing an interest in him, and why he had done a runner. She suddenly felt very afraid. What if Mark had planned on killing her next? What if Philip knew this? What if he’d planned this? Who knew what vile fantasies Philip might have been into, aside from the one of seeing his wife in sexual encounters with other people? She felt sick and icily cold.

  It was getting dark outside and she wondered how long she had been sitting there at the table, trawling through the incriminating evidence on the computers. She wouldn’t go out in the dark, she didn’t want to actually leave the room at all. She could phone the police, get them to come to her, but she decided that she would go to the police in the morning, when it was light. She needed to lay her head down, try to sleep, though she suspected that sleep would not come easily that night.

  She lay down, fully clothed, in the big soft hotel bed and pulled the heavy duvet up. She was still shivering, and the stone cold feeling would not go away.

  Chapter 42

  She drifted in and out of disturbed sleep throughout the night, and was wide eyed well before the first pink light of dawn warmed the room but not her body. She didn’t want to get up, but although she was deadly tired she could not close her eyes, afraid of what she might see in the dark movies playing behind her eyelids. She was staring at the computers still open on the table in the corner of the room. Her clothes were wrapped awkwardly around her foetal body, digging in, pulling, restricting, so she finally arose and went to the bathroom. What a mess. Her eye make up had smudged both cheeks and made her look like a psychotic panda. Her lips were pale, all her lipstick having rubbed off. If she was going to the police this morning she was going to make sure she had at least some dignity about her.

  Turning on the luxury walk-in shower, China waited until the room was a foggy womb of moist, hot air before she entered the scalding rain. The hot water stung her skin but felt as if it was washing away a China that existed before but that she could no longer be. As the water flowed the old China poured down the swirling plug hole, the insecure China, the doting wife who would forgive her husband almost anything, the giggling foolish flirt who craved the attention of attractive men, the self-doubter who would wonder if her chin looked too fat without a scarf to disguise it, and finally the China who needed a man to validate her existence. All these Chinas swirled away along with the soapy suds and hot water. When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, into the bedroom of the hotel suite she was a newly emerged butterfly, her wings still wet and crumpled, but the life of a caterpillar was left behind, and she knew that soon her wings would dry into beautiful shades and she would fly. She stood naked on the deep carpet in the soft sunlight that arced into the room. Over the previous month she had learnt for herself the powers associated with taking charge. She was no longer a novice. Now the world was hers for the taking. She was strong and confident and no longer ashamed.

  Quickly dressing – one thing about packing lightly when leaving home was that it made wardrobe choices a lot simpler – she applied subtle make up and pressed both laptops into her shoulder bag. She was aware that she hadn’t eaten properly in a few days, but she still didn’t feel like breakfast, so she headed straight to the nearest police station.

  When she told the desk sergeant why she was here there was a flurry of activity behind the desk before a senior officer came out and politely escorted her into a stark grey room. A cup of hot, black coffee was provided in the blink of an eye and then she found herself facing two police officers across a steel table. One was a middle aged man, comfortably filling a mismatched suit and open necked green shirt, and the other a rangy, short-haired woman with pretty eyes peering intelligently out of a plain face. The woman officer spoke first.

  “You don’t mind if we record this, do you?”

  “Of course not,” she responded confidently. She had nothing to hide.

  The policewoman switched on a recording device next to China sitting on the end of the table between them. China briefly wondered if these devices still used old cassette tapes or if they recorded digitally to a disk, but then the woman started to ask questions.

  “For the purposes of the tape, would you mind stating who you are please?”

  “I’m China Dark.”

  “And why have you come to the station today?”

  “I’ve found some evidence that I believe may be of interest to you in relation to the recent killings in the area.”

  “And what is this evidence?”

  “My husband’s laptop and…” she hesitated but then steeled herself that she didn’t care what these people thought of her morality. She realized she didn’t care what anyone thought of the way she had decided to live her life. “And my lover’s laptop. They both contain material that links to the girls who were killed.”

  She thought she saw the woman’s eyes flicker and pupils widen when she mentioned her lover, and she definitely saw the man’s eyebrows raise. There was a pause while the two officers thought about their next question.

  “You have these laptops with you I presume?” the woman asked.

  In response China pulled the two computers out of her bag and laid them separately on the table between them. Within one minute a uniformed officer had entered the room and collected the two items of evidence.

  “In your own words, what is on these laptops that you think is linked to the murders?”

  “On my husband’s computer there are three videos of me with my lover, Mark. One of them also has a video of me with Mark and Esta, the last girl killed. The girl in the newspaper two days ago.” China didn’t shed any more tears. That time was over. She still felt sad, but the overwhelming emotion was the need for justice for Esta who she had only known briefly, but with whom she’d shared a few precious moments that had helped form the chrysalis from which she had just emerged.

  “Go on please.” China became aware of where she was again and that she had stopped talking, thinking sadly about her time with Esta and Mark.

  “Sorry. On Mark’s computer, that’s the MacBook, there are the same videos and if you read his e-mail you’ll see he sent these to my husband, Philip Dark. There are also some folders of pictures, Mark was a photographer, of two of the other girls who were killed, Zilda and Poppy.”

  The two officers would not be drawn on this, and their eyes revealed nothing about what they were thinking.

  “Anything else?”

  “I’m not sure. The fact that they knew each other and kept that hidden from me, and the fact that Mark knew all the victims. I thought that was significant.”

  The man nodded. “We are keen to talk to Mark. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. No one has seen him for a few days.”

  “Yes. He appears to have absconded. As soon as he realized we would want to talk to him again he disappeared. Are you sure you can’t think of where he might have gone?”

  China hesitated a moment before responding truthfully. “I didn’t really know him. We met only a few weeks ago, but I know hardly anything about him. He came from Australia, was born in Ireland, worked in the pub, the Dog and Duck, but you know that already I’m sure, and lived only half a mile away from the pub.” She gave the officers his address, but they didn’t write anything down. She assumed that they already had his address. “He liked taking photographs of girls.”<
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  “He liked taking pictures of married women,” the man interrupted and got a sharp look from his colleague. China thought she may have even kicked him under the table.

  “We went to a lap dancing pub together and the girls there seemed to know him quite well,” China added, hoping it would help.

  “We know this. Two of the victims worked in that pub. None of the other girls knew much about him. But then they weren’t married, so maybe he wasn’t interested.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, and he received another angry, thin-lipped stare from the woman. He was obviously revealing more information than she would have liked.

  “Look China,” the woman said, turning the tone of the conversation back to an interrogation and hoping to stop her colleague revealing any more details. “How did you meet Mark and why would a happily married woman, I presume you were happily married, take on a lover who was essentially a stranger?” There was no empathy in the woman’s eyes and China realized that this woman did not like her at all. Or maybe she just didn’t understand her. How could anyone who hadn’t been on the same journey identify with her? She suspected she would need to get used to this reaction. A lot of women naturally hated infidelity in all of its forms, no matter how approved it might be by their partners.

  “We met on a train,” she started. “Well, we didn’t really meet. You know the cliché. Eyes meeting across the room, or in this case crowded tube train. Anyway, he slipped his business card into my pocket as I pushed past him to get off the train. My husband was with me, but he didn’t show any signs of knowing him.”