Written In Blood

by Alex R Carver

  When the front door, against which she was leaning, shook under the impact of something heavy, Emily left it and hurried up the stairs. As she ascended she sought to unlock Georgina Ryder’s phone – she had seen it previously in the hands of her brother’s girlfriend, which was why she had found it familiar the moment she picked it up – so she could call her father, but her fingers continued to display a reluctance to obey the commands from her brain. She was beginning to think the phone was dead when the screen lit up; unfortunately, that was as far as she got, for Georgina had her phone secured with a password.

  Inspiration struck her as she closed the door to her bedroom with a bang and twisted the key in the old-fashioned lock. The relief she felt when Georgina’s birthday unlocked the phone was amazing, she had never felt anything so powerfully before. That relief quickly disappeared, however, when she got no answer from her father’s number.

  Again, and again she tried to get hold of her father, while she listened with one ear to the front door smash into the wall of the passage, followed by the thunder of footsteps on the stairs.

  “Come on, dad,” Emily pleaded, the phone pressed to her ear so hard it was liable to stay there even after she let go of it. “Pickup, pickup, pickup. Where are you when I need you?”

  When the thunderous footsteps reached the top of the stairs and stopped, only to be followed by a crash as something heavy slammed into the door of the bedroom, Emily abandoned her efforts to contact her father, and instead dialled the number for Oakhurst’s police station. She hoped, while dialling, that the solid, and old, oak door she had always hated would prove strong enough to keep out Georgina and Lucy’s killer; so far it had stood up to the job – it shook and shuddered within its frame, but remained secure.

  More than she feared being murdered, if it was possible for her to fear something more than that, she feared what he might do to her before he killed her. As she had told Zack Wild on the drive back to the village, she knew what Sergeant Mitchell believed had been done to Georgina and Lucy before they were killed. Until a few minutes ago, she would not have believed that someone she knew so well could be capable of either rape or murder, and she certainly would not have believed him capable of committing either act on her.

  Having seen his face when he tried to get the phone from her, though, she found herself scared that he was prepared to do anything, to anyone, including her.

  Sturdy the door might be, sturdy enough it wasn’t. Once, twice, three times, he threw his body against the door, and on the fourth time it burst open in a shower of splinters that made Emily duck for fear of being struck. When she straightened up, she saw the menacing figure of the person she had cared about approaching her through the ruins of her door. His face was a twisted, barely recognisable, mask of rage that made her tremble violently.

  “Gimme the phone,” He demanded in a voice that was so harsh and full of hatred it combined with the look on his face to give him an air of insanity.

  Emily could only wonder how it was that she had not seen how crazy he was before. It didn’t seem possible that he could have concealed what kind of person he was for so long. Someone should have seen through the act he was putting on, she thought during the millisecond in which she was able to think with some semblance of clarity.

  “I said gimme the fucking phone.”

  Emily twisted away as he lunged for her. She tried to slip past him and out of the room, thinking that if she could get out of the house without getting caught, she stood a chance of making it to the village – once there she would be safe. The idea was good, but it failed at the first hurdle; she was caught before she could even get out of the room. She was almost at the door when she was brought up short by a sharp jerk on her top, the back of which had been grabbed by the killer she was trying to elude.

  “Where the hell d’you think you’re going?”

  The question was accompanied by a yank that sent her spinning and stumbling across the room. She hit the bed and fell over it, landing heavily on the floor on the other side. Unaware that her call to the police station had been answered, Emily lost her grip on the phone, which bounced out of her hand to disappear under the bed.

  More concerned with protecting herself from the maniac who was obviously intent on causing her serious harm, and most likely on killing her, Emily gave no thought to the phone she had just lost as she struggled to her feet. At least she tried to, before she could make it further than her knees, she was grabbed and thrown onto her back.

  “What the hell were you doing looking around in my car?” he demanded, punching Emily in the face as she tried to sit up. “Why are you so fucking nosey? I said, why are you so fucking nosey?” Grabbing Emily by the front of her t-shirt, he pulled her up so he could punch her again for not answering him, not that she could have done so for the first blow had rocked her head back so it struck the bedside cabinet behind her.

  He repeated the question several times, in different ways, and each time Emily failed to answer him, he hit her. Finally, it sank in that he was not going to get an answer because Emily was incapable of providing one. Once he realised that, he let go of her t-shirt, leaving her to drop to the floor with a thud. While the thud echoed around the bedroom, the madness that had overcome him began to fade; sense, or some semblance of it, began to return to his mind, though not before he was struck by a last – for the time being – burst of open insanity.

  “Look what you’ve made me do. Look at the mess you’ve made me make.” He kicked her in the stomach. He felt like kicking her a second time, but now that the madness was gone and he was thinking a little more clearly, he realised he had to move quickly if he wanted to avoid getting caught.

  He had no idea how much time he had before Tara got home, and he had to get Emily’s body out of there before she did, before she could see what he had done. He didn’t know where he could take her – he certainly couldn’t dump her body where he had dumped Georgina and Lucy, that would be the first place the police looked, but having a destination wasn’t half as important as getting her out of the house.

  He took a quick look out of the window quickly, to be sure the yard was clear, then bent to grab Emily by the front of her t-shirt. It took all of his strength to get her dead weight to his shoulder, and he staggered a little as he made his way out of the room.

  28

  “Oakhurst Police Station, how can I help you?” Melissa answered the phone. “Hello, is anyone there?” Hello. Hello.” She pressed the phone to her ear as she strained to hear anything that would suggest there was someone on the other end of the call.

  “Why are you so fucking nosy?”

  Melissa flinched, and quickly pulled the phone away from her ear, though not before she heard the unmistakeable sound of a fist striking flesh.

  “Sergeant, I think you should hear this,” she called down the passage after covering the mouthpiece of the phone. While she waited for Mitchell, she listened with growing horror to the sound of someone being violently assaulted.

  “What is it?” Mitchell asked upon reaching the counter.

  Melissa answered the question by putting the call on speaker. “I want to be wrong,” she said, after silencing the microphone so she could speak without being heard by whoever was on the other end of the call, “but that sounds like someone getting beaten up.”

  Mitchell nodded his agreement. “You’re right, the question is, who; who’s being attacked, and who’s doing the attacking, and where’s the attack happening? Do you know the number?” he asked, looking at the phone’s screen.

  Melissa wracked her brain, but had no more luck recognising the number than Mitchell. “No idea,” she said with an unhappy shake of her head. “If I’ve seen it before, I don’t remember it.” That didn’t surprise her, she had a lousy memory for numbers; to be sure it wasn’t a number she should know, she took out her phone.

  The number didn’t match any of those in her phone book, nor those in Mitchell’s when he thought to take out his phon
e to copy her; despite that, both officers were sure the call was coming from someone in the village.

  “What’re we going to do?” Melissa asked, afraid that they were listening to the person who had killed Georgina and Lucy as he attacked a third young girl.

  Mitchell was quick to answer that. “You’re going to stay here and call everybody. I want the inspector here to help you try to figure out who’s being attacked, and I want you to send Paul, Michael and Adrian to meet me at Wild’s place, and tell them to hurry, I want them there before he can do anything permanent to whoever he’s attacking.”

  “But we don’t know that Mr Wild’s attacking anyone,” Melissa said, not happy that Mitchell was leaping to the conclusion that the author was responsible for what they had heard on the phone. “We’ve got no reason for thinking that he’s attacking, or has attacked, anyone. That voice is familiar, but I’m not sure it’s Mr Wild.”

  “We’ve got plenty of reason,” Mitchell told her, starting down the passage to his office; he returned almost immediately with a file, which he slapped down on the counter in front of Melissa. “Read that. But call everyone before you do.” With that he strode around the counter and out of the station so he could get on his way.

  Since the phone line was still open and on speaker, in case anything was said that could be used to identify either attacker or victim – it would have been good if they had been able to record the phone call for future use, but that was not something they had the technology to do – Melissa used her mobile to make the calls she had to, at the same time she flipped open the file so she could see what it was Mitchell wanted her to read. She saw straight away that it was Zack Wild’s personnel file from Southampton police, the full file, not the summary they had received before.

  It took only a short while for Melissa to see what had caused Mitchell to react the way he had; the file presented the image of a man who was prone to violence, including violence against women. By the time she got to the end of it, however, she realised that Mitchell had only taken what he wanted to from the file.

  The confusion she had already been feeling with regard to Zack Wild and Sergeant Mitchell, and the latter’s certainty regarding the former’s guilt, was deepened by reading the file. She couldn’t deny that Zack Wild had control issues when it came to violence, but the report made it clear that the incidents were either self-defence, the result of provocation, or, in the case of the allegations made by two young women, which were most likely the incidents on which Mitchell was basing his presumption of guilt, false.

  She was relieved when Inspector Stevens agreed with her that Zack Wild couldn’t be arrested on what they had, and that if he was arrested it might jeopardise any case they tried to put together against him in the future.

  She doubted Mitchell was going to be happy with her when he realised what she had done, but she found she didn’t care; all that mattered to her just then were stopping her superior endangering the investigation, and figuring out who they had heard being attacked, and who was doing the attacking - neither of those last two were easy since beyond the ‘nosy bitch’ phrase, which suggested the victim was female, and the number the call came from, they had no clues.

  29

  “Hi, is Tara home?”

  Hastily, He pulled the blanket he was arranging down and spun around; the panic he felt at the thought that Emily’s body had been seen subsided when he saw that it was only Daisy Hawkins, and she showed no sign of being aware of what he had done, or of what he was doing.

  “Not yet,” He said, pleased that he sounded completely normal.

  Daisy might not have seen anything suspicious, but when Emily was discovered missing, she was bound to mention that she had seen him at the house, and when. No matter how stupid Sergeant Mitchell was, He didn’t imagine he would have any difficulty connecting his presence at the house with Emily’s disappearance. Since that was the case, He couldn’t allow Daisy to tell anyone he had been there, he wasn’t sure what to do about her, though.

  After a moment, he was struck by what he could only think of as an inspiration. “Actually, I’m on my way to meet her, why don’t you come along.”

  “Okay,” Daisy said without hesitation, showing no sign of being afraid or concerned, rather she looked excited at being invited to go with him.

  “Get in then,” he told her. “I’ve just got to finish sorting something out back here, then we’ll be good to go.” He waited until Daisy had climbed into the passenger seat of the Land Rover and couldn’t see what he was doing, then he adjusted the blanket covering Emily to be sure she wouldn’t be revealed by accident. Only when he was satisfied did he close the boot and get behind the wheel.

  “Where are we going?” Daisy asked as he turned off the road less than half a mile from the farm. She had never been down the dirt path they were on now, but she knew it led to an old farm, and she couldn’t imagine why Tara would be there; despite that she didn’t feel afraid, only surprised.

  Fear replaced her surprise, however, when she saw the way he was looking at her.

  He had seen Daisy a number of times, but never thought of her as anything but a young girl, when he thought of her at all. Now, though, and he couldn’t have said why his thoughts had changed, he found himself looking at her as he would a girl he was interested in taking to bed, and he liked what he saw. She was young, but she was developing into an attractive girl, and he found himself becoming aroused.

  “Where are we going?” Daisy repeated her question. With an effort, she tore her gaze from his; the hint of lust in his eyes – she had never been looked at like that before, but some instinct told her what was behind the look – scared her, at the same time it gave her a tingly feeling she didn’t understand, but which made her squirm in her seat. “Why would Tara be out here?”

  “She isn’t,” he told her. There was an edge to his voice that he quickly suppressed. “I’ve got to take care of something before we go and meet her. You don’t mind, do you?” As he asked the question he dropped a hand to her leg and began stroking it up and down, caressing her thigh through the denim of her jeans.

  The tingly feeling that had begun with the look increased at his touch, but so did her fear. Despite her excitement at his sudden interest in her, Daisy could not help feeling that there was something wrong. “What do you have to do?”

  “D’you always ask so many questions?” He wanted to know. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that men prefer girls who know how to be quiet?”

  “S-sorry.” Daisy was glad when the hand was taken from her leg, but the sudden sharpness with which he spoke to her made her tremble in fright.

  His temper, which had seemed to be just below boiling point for the past week, since he killed Georgina, erupted at this minimal provocation and he lashed out.

  “I said shut up,” He snapped as Daisy groaned in pain. “Why can’t you girls ever do what you’re told?” he demanded.

  The drive to the farmhouse took no time at all, and he was soon pulling up in the yard in front of the partially destroyed house. He glanced around briefly, but didn’t give the yard and the house more than a cursory look because he couldn’t afford to waste time if he wanted to avoid anyone becoming suspicious. Throwing open the door next to him, he got out, shouting for Daisy to do the same.

  Daisy was stunned and horrified by what had happened; she had never been hit before, not properly, and she didn’t know how to react to it other than to be afraid. Releasing her seatbelt when he got out of the Land Rover and started towards the rear of it, she threw herself across the car so she could pull the driver’s door closed and lock it. After that she reached over to hit the lock on the passenger door, before dropping into the driver’s seat.

  She had never driven a car before, she had never even started the engine on one, but she had seen her parents drive often enough to be reasonably confident she could manage. There was just one problem with her plan, the keys were not in the ignition; a tapping sound on the window next to h
er made her look round apprehensively and she saw that He had the keys. Her heart, which had already been beating a rapid tempo against her ribcage, threatened to burst out of her chest.

  When He saw that he had her attention, he stopped and unlocked the car.

  “That was very – fucking – stupid,” He said angrily, speaking slowly and deliberately to emphasise his words. Reaching into the Land Rover, he grabbed Daisy and dragged her out. She fell to the ground when he let go of her and simply lay there, sobbing. “Get up,” he ordered in a voice so harsh it made her sob all the harder. “I said get up. Get up and get inside.” He accompanied the order with a kick that lifted her half off the ground and drove the air from her lungs in an explosive gasp.

  Daisy lay there for several long moments, overwhelmed by pain and struggling for breath, and then slowly pushed herself up. He seemed satisfied that she was obeying him once she started to get up, and she used that to her advantage; while He was focused on what he was doing at the rear of the Land Rover, she, instead of heading towards the farmhouse, began moving slowly back the way they had driven. She wanted to run, to sprint for the road that led to the village as fast as her legs would carry her, but she was afraid that running would attract his attention, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She had gone no more than a couple of feet when she saw what he was taking from the boot of the Land Rover. The moment she saw the body – she couldn’t see the face, so she had no idea who it was, but she could see it was female – she screamed, a prolonged sound of terror that made him drop his burden and spin towards her. The anger in his face gave Daisy a burst of adrenaline that sent her racing away, like a hare pursued by a pack of hounds.

  He forgot all about Emily’s body as he sprinted after Daisy – Emily was not going anywhere, but if Daisy got away he would be in serious trouble. He was not as fast as the fleeing girl, he saw that almost immediately, so he did the only thing he could think of, He threw himself into a diving tackle. He caught Daisy around the legs with one arm, knocking them out from under her and sending her to the ground.