Buried Slaughter (Brian McDone Mysteries)

by Ryan Casey

  “And when you’ve chosen‌—‌when you’ve made your choice‌—‌one of your family members will suffer unimaginable pain. You’ve got…‌Let’s say fifteen, twenty minutes. No choice, and the pair of them go plunging into the acid bath. I hope you’re ready, Brian. Clock’s ticking.”

  Brian’s entire body was frozen as he stared at Hannah’s feet, wiggling between the tightly wrapped tape around her ankles.

  He had to make a choice.

  There was no other way out.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  “What’s wrong, Brian? Cat got your tongue? Ha. S’pose I shouldn’t be the one making cat jokes after that fucking bitch’s cat scratched my face that time, right?”

  Brian stared at Scott, who grinned and chatted just as if he was a friend.

  And yet, Hannah and Davey were beside him, hovering above those bathtubs of hydrofluoric acid. He understood the little kitchen weights around Davey’s stomach now. They were keeping the weight evenly distributed. So if one of them were to be lifted off, the other would descend to their fate.

  A belt of death.

  “Oh, don’t worry about her,” Scott said, pointing at Hannah’s twitching foot. “It’ll be a while before she properly comes round. But that doesn’t matter. I want her to feel the pain. I want you to see her pain, and I want to see that in your eyes. That grief. That understanding.”

  “You’re fucking insane,” Brian said, shaking his head. “Fucking deluded, Scott. All this shit over something that happened like, four hundred years ago. Completely fucking crackers.”

  Scott smiled. He seemed unaffected by Brian’s cursing. “History decides the innocent from the guilty.”

  The words sounded so familiar in Brian’s mind, and that’s because he knew he’d heard them before. Out on that field, when the killer had stood over him, he’d said those words. “All this time, it was you. All this fucking time.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Scott said. “Getting access to the medieval sword was particularly tricky. I knew I needed to plan very carefully for that. And hey‌—‌the Mcphee guy came good in the end.”

  Brian kept on checking on Hannah and Davey as the rope above them swung, the weight distribution falling out of sync every now and then.

  It only took a nudge. A slight nudge, and one of them would go flying into a pit of hot acid.

  “Darren Anderson,” Brian said. “He was your accomplice, wasn’t he?”

  Scott laughed. It was a singular, high-pitched cackle. “Accomplice? Jesus. Give me some credit. No, Darren Anderson played a very important part, but I’d hardly call him my accomplice. I just made sure he got a few things I needed. A public face, to take the blame should my whole…‌operation fall apart. He got me into the Pendle Hill excavation site. Hey‌—‌he even got me this here acid, in fact.” He pointed his finger at the acid, coming close to dipping it in.

  “Why would he do that for you? Why would he put his entire life on the line?”

  Scott reached up for Hannah’s smooth, bare leg and stroked it, like an owner stroking their pet. “The things a man would do for their family. Right?”

  In that instant, Brian got a very strong idea of what had happened to Darren Anderson after all. His family. His wife and daughter. 1/6/12. The desperation in Darren’s drunken eyes. “You kidnapped his family?”

  “I wouldn’t say I ‘kidnapped’ them. More…‌placed them in a very safe place. A place where they would be perfectly fine, should Darren carry out his side of the deal. But should he fail, well. I’m still making my mind up about his success. Ah, well. They’ve been good these last few months, and Darren’s just been too afraid about what I might do to them to go to the police. Far too afraid. Exactly what I wanted. Cowardly piece of shit. They should have enough food and water in their system to last another couple of days. Perhaps. Now, I love to digress, but your clock is ticking. I count ten minutes. Make your choice, Brian.”

  Brian was so pleased he hadn’t brought anybody down here with him now, police or Vanessa. He had no doubts that Scott was a nutter. A complete fucking head case. And he had no doubts that he’d be very willing to drop his family into a bath of acid. He’d probably enjoy it, in fact.

  “Scott, I don’t know what’s happened to you in your life, mate. I don’t know what fucking bad hand of cards you’ve been dealt, and I understand that…‌that in the past, awful things must’ve happened with our ancestors‌—‌”

  “Awful. Yes, awful. Truly.”

  Brian waited a few seconds, then started speaking again. He had no idea how he was going to fight his way out of this one. “But right now, in the 21st Century, we’re new people. Not that the past doesn’t matter, but…‌but you’re going back four hundred years. You’re digging back into something I wasn’t even aware of. That’s not healthy. It’s not sane.”

  Scott stared at Brian. His cold, grey eyes examined every part of his body. Outside, the leafless branches of trees scratched against the boarded-up windows.

  And then, out of nowhere, Scott turned towards the rope and tugged it.

  Hannah and Davey both plummeted about a foot closer to the bathtubs. Hannah’s bare toes were almost making contact with the acid, while Davey swung from side to side, presumably still unconscious.

  Scott held the rope. His face was red again. “You don’t try to talk me out of this. I’ve worked so fucking hard to get you to this point. I’ve placed the pieces in all the right places to get you here now. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a case like that Pendle Hill massacre. Just knew it. And even if you had‌—‌even if that detective rat brain inside your head had somehow decided family was more important‌—‌I’d have found another way to get to you. There are always other ways. But this is here. Now. And if you don’t make a choice of who you want to save, I will tug this rope so hard that it sends that whore wife and cunt son of yours frying to their fucking bones. You understand?”

  Brian was still again. All the muscles in his legs and lower torso went weak. He nodded his head, just to try to get Scott to calm down more than anything. Scott was drooling. His eyes were filled with tears. He was like a rabid dog. A psychopathic rabid dog with a chip on its shoulder.

  “I laid everything out so carefully,” Scott said. “Everything. I‌—‌I even sent the question mark letter months ago in anticipation. Just to make it all…‌all authentic, you know? And I wouldn’t say I had fun with it. I’m not a killer, not at heart. But I enjoyed evading and misleading the bullshit authorities, time and time again.”

  “We can still walk away from this,” Brian said. He took a few steps closer to Scott. The old wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He wasn’t sure where the strength inside his body came from to say those words. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. But he had to try something. Anything. He couldn’t choose between Hannah and Davey. He contemplated losing one of them in his head, for a split second, and just couldn’t hold that thought.

  “I understand you want to talk your way out. Talk, talk, talk. All Brian McDone ever wants to do. A rat’s tactic, that’s what my granddad used to call it. Hold my neck, he would. Hold my neck and fuck me up the arse with a fucking screwdriver while telling me what rats you were. All of you. Scumfucks. All the fucking lot of you McDones.”

  Brian stopped beside a large wooden pillar in the middle of the former reception area. He was just a few feet away from his family now. The two most important people in his life. Hannah’s foot had stopped twitching. She was sleeping again, drugged on whatever Scott had given her. He was relieved, really. He didn’t want her to know about this. None of it.

  And he couldn’t even imagine Davey knowing in some way.

  “Cunts. Scummy cunts. All of you. Now you choose. You pay, like I paid. Because fuck, I paid. I paid every night of every week with‌—‌with the pain they put me through. But it was to make me strong. To make me strong so I could‌—‌I could find you and then I could make you suffer. It took time. It took patience. But
now they’re dead and I’m here and now you have a choice.”

  Brian stared at Scott. Scott was shaking all over as he crouched and held the rope at the side of the bath. He kept twisting his hand around it, like an old woman tugging at a piece of tissue nervously. He realised then that he didn’t recognise Scott. Not at all. He hadn’t known the real Scott. The real Scott was here, right now. A scared child, abused, punished beyond the point of redemption. A terrified, brainwashed child who couldn’t bring himself to blame his own family for the horrible things they’d done to him, so lashed out at somebody else.

  “You think you’ll be satisfied when you finish, do you?” Brian said. Passion returned to his voice. Confidence. Adrenaline, what a bitch. “You think that when you’ve seen me suffer, you’ll be happy, do you? Behind bars for the rest of your life. You don’t think you’ll want somebody else to take your frustrations out on?”

  Scott’s nostrils twitched. “Oh, I’ll be happy alright. And you’re assuming I get to prison. You’re assuming I won’t just end things, right here, once I’ve had my moment of intense pleasure. What better way to die than in bliss?”

  Brian leaned against the tall wooden pillar. He was about to say something back to Scott, but he realised the pillar was loose. He looked up at it. It was large, right up to the ceiling, but damp. He knew he could get it to move if he pushed it hard enough.

  “You’re a nutcase,” Brian said. “A psychotic, abused little nutcase who never grew up. Y’know, tonight was supposed to be our engagement night‌—‌”

  “You don’t think I know that already?” Scott spat. “Why the hell do you think I chose tonight?”

  Brian forced a painful smile and shook his head. “You’re a lowlife. A lowlife piece of dirt who is no better than the rest of his abusive family. Because I know that’s what happened now. I know you must’ve been put through hell earlier in your life, and that’s why you’re here, right now. You think I’m to blame. You think that something in ancient history caused your family to be the way it was. And maybe you’re right. But every new life is a chance to change the course. Every new descendant has a chance to make amends for the past. Congratulations on failing.”

  Scott took a few seconds before stepping away from the rope. He walked in Brian’s direction. Hannah and Davey’s bodies shook from side to side again. Brian leaned on the wooden pillar. Still loose.

  Scott stopped right in front of Brian’s face. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and lifted it to Brian’s neck. Brian flinched and edged back.

  “You know, I’ve been lenient with you. I could’ve made you suffer so, so much. Physically, you know?” His breath stank of onions and takeaway curry gone off. “But I know you’re a self-harmer, anyway. Or at least you were. A cutter, I believe.” He yanked the blade up to Brian’s cheek and sliced in a sudden, rapid movement.

  Brian clutched his face, but stayed as close to the pillar as he could.

  “So you don’t judge me,” Scott said, tapping the tip of the blade against Brian’s forehead. “You are by no means in a position to judge.”

  He turned around and headed back towards the rope. “Now time for you to dec‌—‌”

  “Hey, Scott?” Brian said. He gripped the wooden pillar. His heart raced. His body felt like it was vibrating.

  Scott turned around and looked at him, a snarl on his face.

  “Mind your head,” Brian said.

  He put all the weight he possibly could into pushing the pillar. Damp wood snapped above him, and the pillar went tumbling in the direction of Scott, and of Hannah and Davey.

  By the time Scott’s eyes had widened and realised what Brian had done, Brian was already sprinting full-pelt in Hannah and Davey’s direction. He grabbed their feet, supporting their weight as best as he could, as the pillar kicked up dust and tumbled in Scott’s direction.

  Brian turned around as he leaned above the acid baths, his face and entire body so close to unimaginable suffering.

  The pillar collapsed to the floor with a huge thump. Above it, part of the ceiling was exposed. A cloud of yellow dust spread around the room.

  Scott was still standing behind it, specks of debris covering him. He looked at it pitifully.

  Shit.

  “You made your choice then,” Scott said, and walked in the direction of the rope.

  Brian looked up at the ceiling. It was still cracking. He closed his eyes. It all ended here. It all fucking ended here.

  “You choose for us all to die,” Scott shouted, crouching beside the rope.

  Brian tensed as much as he could to support the weight above him. The ceiling was cracking. Debris and rubble was crumbling down. Some of it splashed in the acid, nicking Brian’s face with tiny burns.

  But something was opening in the crack. The crack was sinking. Something solid was upstairs.

  And it was right above Scott’s head.

  “I said, watch your head,” Brian shouted at Scott as he stepped back with the rope.

  Scott looked up, frowning.

  A leather sofa crashed through the ceiling and fell down towards Scott. Scott tried to move away, fear in his eyes, but the sofa arm wedged against his neck and sent it cracking in an unnatural direction. He fell to the ground, and the sofa crunched the bones in his spine, crushing him with its force and weight.

  As rubble and debris rained down on the room, Brian closed his eyes and kept tight grip of Hannah and Davey’s legs, which were shaking and jostling now.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here. Let’s get you out.”

  He felt something warm on his cheeks. At first, he thought it must’ve been acid, but he soon realised that he was crying.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Mr. McDone? Are you sure you don’t want a drink of water? You look a little pale, and rightly so.”

  Brian sat on the spongy grass outside the abandoned care home. He had a thick blue towel wrapped over his shoulders, and was hunched forward, biting his nails. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, suit yourself,” the fireman said. He had a large, pointy nose and a mole underneath his left eye. “But you’ve been through a very traumatic set of circumstances by the looks of things. Just make sure you take it easy until we get somebody else over here.”

  Brian looked up at the care home. The first floor had partly caved in when he’d pushed over that wooden pillar. The air was thick with dust, as debris spewed out of the side window. He’d done what he could. What he had to.

  Two firemen emerged from the rubble holding a body. Another fireman ran over to cover it up the second they emerged, but the image was already present in Brian’s head. The legs, dangling out of place like a contorted kid’s toy. Blood pooling out of a gaping wound in the chest; a meteor crater, like pectus excavatum gone hostile.

  “Okay, let’s get him in the van until the ambulance gets down here,” a bearded, Asian-looking fireman said. “Where the hell are those guys, anyway?”

  As they dragged Scott Collins’ body towards the red fire truck, Brian took a moment to consider just how fortunate he’d been. Somehow, while he was propping up Hannah and Davey’s bodies, while the rubble rained from the ceiling, keeping them still to stop the whole thing collapsing, he’d managed to call the emergency line. He’d managed to do that, then they’d got down here and cut Hannah and Davey free.

  He winced as he stood to his feet. His right shin seared with pain. Some of the acid had splashed back at them when they’d left, as a rock tumbled from above. It’d splashed against Brian, Davey, Hannah. It wouldn’t be enough to cause anything other than minor tissue wounds, but they would have to live with those scars forever. A constant reminder of how close he’d come‌—‌how close they’d all come‌—‌to a force of personal grievance way beyond their control.

  The past would always have a mark on their future.

  Hannah and Davey had been escorted to the hospital right away by one of the fir
e trucks, and they’d advised Brian to go too, but he knew he needed to stay here. He needed to explain to the authorities exactly what had happened. He needed to provide them with the evidence that Scott was the Pendle Hill killer, the Longridge Fell killer, Marie’s killer. David Wallson’s killer.

  He needed to show them all the evidence he had. There was no way Scott was getting away with murder, not like Robert Luther had. Even if Scott didn’t make it alive, he was going to be held accountable for his crimes, whether the department liked the idea of a PCSO being responsible or not.

  An ambulance soon returned to the scene and took Scott away, strapping equipment and monitors and whatever the hell else to him. As those ambulance doors slammed shut and took Scott away, Brian didn’t feel any remorse or sympathy. He didn’t even feel sad to be bidding farewell to a man he thought was a genuine friend.

  Because there was nothing genuine about Scott Collins. Or Scott Harvey. Or whatever the hell his real name was. Who knew?

  DI Marlow and a couple of officers soon arrived at the scene. Brian explained the situation to Marlow‌—‌how Scott was the killer, how he’d lured Brian out here and forced him to make a choice in the manner of Harold Harvey. Marlow just stared and listened. His greying beard was even bushier than ever.

  Brian swore the dark plumbs underneath Marlow’s eyes were just about ready to burst with all that had happened.

  “We’ll get a team straight down to Scott’s. Truth is, CCTV’s just come back from your street. Private firm, so took a little longer, as per fucking usual. A man matching the black clothing that Scott is…‌was wearing is seen dropping off the envelope that you described at your house. And we’ve also had word from a witness at David Wallson’s, who saw a man dressed all in black head up the stairs and leave shortly after, looking a little flummoxed.”

  Brian nodded. At least DI Marlow seemed to be taking it all seriously. Whether it would be enough alone to charge Scott was anyone’s guess. He’d have his justice though. One way or another, he’d have his justice.