by Luca Veste
‘What happened in that tunnel?’
‘I don’t know, Mum.’
Caroline placed both her palms against the side of her face, rubbing her temples with her fingers. There was pain behind her eyes now, tiredness taking hold. Also, the fact she couldn’t answer any questions with real answers. She just wanted to give the only true response, but knew it would sound ridiculous in that room now.
Caroline thought of the police detective, Louise. The only real visitor she’d had while she was in hospital. The questions she had asked, the way she’d opened up about her own life. She had thought there was a possibility that Louise might take her seriously, but even then it would be paled by her job. She was a detective, not a ghosthunter. When she’d checked herself out of the hospital, she had taken Louise’s card with her, a mobile number scrawled on the back.
Twenty years she had carried the story of what had happened when she’d gone into the woods with her brother. She wondered now why she had waited so long, whether it would have made any difference in the years that had passed since to his plight.
It had been her fault. She had been protecting herself from what was the painful truth.
She had chosen her own life over his. Left him alone in those woods, never to be seen again. Now, in the stark and painful light of a new day, she wished she hadn’t said a word. Wished she had never tried to find him. Wished she had never left her old comfortable life.
She would still have all her original skin, for one. She grimaced at that, looking down at where her torso bulged under the thin material of the T-shirt she was wearing. Bandaged up and left to heal. The scars left behind would be a constant reminder for the rest of her life, that sometimes . . . sometimes things are better left unknown.
‘Something was waiting in the tunnel,’ Caroline said finally, glancing at her mum for a moment, then away. ‘Waiting for Matty.’
‘Waiting for him?’
‘The tunnel we all went through, in those woods. Something was in there when I walked through. It had been watching us from the moment we entered the woods. Waiting for its chance. Going through that tunnel was it. Only, it thought I was him at first. It tried to get me. That’s why I knew something was in there. If I’d turned and run back out, then Matty would still be here.’
‘It?’
‘Whatever, I don’t know. It was something.’
‘The Bone Keeper,’ her mum said, her voice quiet now. Fear wrapped within each syllable.
‘I heard it.’
This was the first time she’d said this aloud, but it didn’t shift the weight she’d expected it to. Instead, the words hung between them, like a cloud of cigarette smoke in mid-air.
‘You heard the Bone Keeper?’
Caroline shook her head, wondering if that was actually true or not. Whether, in fact, it was a lie. It was still as it always had been – a story passed around fearful children, from generation to generation.
Yet, there was something out there, in those woods.
‘We went back through that tunnel, but we couldn’t see anything. The other two kids went off, scared – they ran back home, but I stayed there a few seconds longer. I heard him, Mum. I heard Matty’s voice. It was in that tunnel. He was crying, scared. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run back in there and help but I . . . I couldn’t move.’
‘We looked in the tunnel. He wasn’t there.’
‘I left him there, Mum. I left him there and that was it. He was gone. If I’d gone back in on my own, maybe I could have saved him.’
She could still remember that part, more clearly than any other, twenty years later. Standing at the edge of the tunnel entrance, shivering against a non-existent cold. Frightened. A scared, petrified little girl.
Caught up in a silly game gone wrong.
‘I probably stood there for a minute, but it felt like an hour. I heard him cry. I heard him shout for me . . . for you. Then, silence. I’ve never forgotten that dirty, horrific silence. I ran away. Back to you. I left him there, all alone. I couldn’t help him.’
Caroline could still see that tunnel in her mind, the smallness of it masking what lay within. The ordinariness of it, as if she had expected an evil place to have a sign indicating it to be so.
That’s the thing about evil. It never announces itself. Just festers and lives among the normal. The clean.
‘About six months ago, someone came into the shelter,’ Caroline continued, her eyes settling on the television as the yellow breaking news ticker slid along the bottom of the screen. More people reported missing, more crime scenes found. Helicopters in the sky and police vehicles swarming the city. ‘He was talking about the Bone Keeper. Saying he’d met someone who could take him to the actual, real monster. Everyone was calling him a liar and all that, but I listened. I followed him one evening, seeing where he was going, and he went into these woods. I found out later who he was meeting. A man called Rhys. I watched what they did. In those woods. I had to be sure. I had to see him.’
‘See who?’
‘The Bone Keeper. Whatever took our Matty. My brother. I wanted to see it, smell that same smell I did in that tunnel. I needed to know if this was just a silly game, or whether it was real. I saw it there. I saw symbols carved into the trees, appearing out of nowhere. I could smell it even from the distance I was. It stank like rotten meat, like death.’
She could feel the tears coming back now, as she remembered what had happened next. The mistake she had made in trying to stop him herself.
‘Why didn’t you tell me what happened?’
‘I thought you’d blame me for not helping. I thought it was a trick. That he would just come back. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.’
Her mum seemed to accept what she said, even if the lines on her forehead creased in confusion even further.
‘So, Matthew could still be out there?’
Caroline didn’t answer, only thinking of the man she’d known as Rhys. The man she’d originally followed, calling him that and nothing else. This Rhys and his eyes, as he’d stood over her. The cries of the man lying further away, dead within hours. She’d had to listen to his final breaths as the knife sliced into his skin.
The smell of death, permeating the atmosphere around them both.
‘He’s still out there, Caroline,’ her mum said, edging along the sofa towards her. ‘And I know it.’
Caroline looked at her mum, then across the room to where she was staring. At the flowers on the windowsill. She cocked her head, then lifted herself up, grimacing against the shooting pain across her stomach she did so. Made her way over to the windowsill, picking up what looked like twigs that were lying there, abandoned almost. A card lay at their side. She picked it up, reading the words carefully, twice, three times, then turned to her mum. She could feel her heart beating against her chest, the same feeling she’d had as she was lying on the ground, waiting for death in those woods.
‘Who sent you these?’
‘They’re from Matthew. He’s coming back.’
Caroline could feel her hands begin to shake, as her breathing became constricted. ‘This isn’t from Matty. It can’t be.’
Forty-Five
Louise couldn’t place the voice and the familiarity she had felt with each word. The memory of it, gravelled and deep.
The safety she felt in its presence.
Years and years. Time just spiralling away into nothingness, her past a blurred memory, another life, another world. Enough experiences since that time to replace the old ones.
She was a different person now, yet she could have been eleven years old again. Transported back to that time she couldn’t quite remember, yet which felt so memorable now.
A slight breeze rippled through the leaves, stinging her eyes, which were wide open, unblinking. She closed them briefly, feeling the wind rip through her hair, waiting for it to settle again. She was far enough away from the coastline now that the smell of saltwater had dissipated, but she imagi
ned she could still taste it in the air.
‘You remember this place?’ the voice said, hidden among the earth, the leaves. The darkness.
‘Who are you?’ Louise replied, speaking in the general direction of the voice. She couldn’t be sure. Wouldn’t allow herself to be. She glanced at the ruins of an old building, seeing the graffiti on its bricks.
‘You know who I am,’ the voice said, now coming into full form. The shadow took shape, until she could see him entirely. Dressed in ragged clothes, a long coat that covered almost his entire body. Dark, almost black in colour. A thought came into her head unbidden, about this person always being adept at camouflaging himself. That he had so much experience in doing so, not just here, in his natural habitat of the woods, but even in his personality and the way he presented himself.
He didn’t look like a real person. He was an apparition almost, as if he was just a part of the surroundings. A part of the night.
He had fooled them all. For so long.
‘Say my name.’
Louise hesitated, still not sure what exactly she was doing there in those woods. How she had found this place, what had led her there. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to get away from there, but she couldn’t move.
‘You have two choices, Louise. Either you accept who I am, or you arrest me.’
She could feel the smirk behind the words. She laughed, before she caught herself and stopped it escaping her mouth. She couldn’t help it. The situation was simply that ridiculous, she thought.
Her, a detective.
Him, a serial killer?
The memory sparked to life then, when she thought those words. Of being eleven years old and walking through these woods. Him, alongside her.
They were hunting. Something. She wasn’t sure.
He had left that message for her, knowing it would bring her back. She found it difficult to accept that there was anything more than that. Just a coincidence. That was all. He had hidden away in the woods behind their old house for all this time, making her think he was dead. Yet, everything within her was screaming the fact. It was who he was. What he had always been.
Was that who he was?
It had taken a long time, but she now recognised him for what he was at his core.
Evil.
‘What would you do if I did arrest you?’
She could see parts of him now which were still recognisable, but she couldn’t trust her memory. She couldn’t trust reality. She imagined something built into the ground itself. Buried underneath the ruins, she guessed. Where he felt most at home.
Louise knew him. What he was capable of, given the opportunity.
‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ he replied, no joviality to his tone now. ‘How would you explain my being here? What you let me do?’
‘I thought you were dead. All of you.’
‘You always knew. Right from the start of this. You knew who I was and who was responsible. Right from the very beginning. As soon as you saw those marks in the woods and heard the name.’
‘It would be your word against mine. Who are they going to believe . . . a detective, or a sick, sadistic killer?’
‘Is that what you think of me? That I’m evil?’
‘What else is there to believe?’ Louise said, now circling around him as he stood there unmoving. ‘Isn’t that why I’m here? Isn’t that why you broke into my home? You leave me alone for years and then suddenly return when bodies are found across the city. What am I supposed to think? You knew what I was going to discover. What you’ve been doing all these years. You killed her. Hazel Durham.’
‘She was fun. You would have enjoyed the way she ran,’ he said, something new in his voice now. Pleading, as if he were hoping she wouldn’t reject him now, at the final hurdle. ‘I have a life to protect.’
‘Yeah, a life where you kill people.’
‘It’s not as simple as that, Louise,’ he said, annoyance gone now. Back to his usual tone of pity and patronising. ‘Nothing ever is. We don’t live in a world of black and white. It’s grey. It’s always grey. You know that better than anyone.’
‘Tell that to the families of Adam Parker, Nicola Borthwick, Greg Hall, Carl Groves . . .’
‘No . . .’
‘Jon Durham,’ Louise finished, spitting the name out towards him. ‘Couldn’t even kill him yourself, could you? Had to drive him to it. Because he knew exactly what you were.’
‘Enough,’ he said, his voice dark and echoing around them. Louise stopped moving, closer to him now. Close enough to see deep into his eyes, the dark orbs they had become. What they had always been. Lifeless, without soul. She could see the black underneath his skin, the mud which was almost a part of his features now. He could still make her stop dead – the power he still held over her . . . it frightened her.
All these memories, now suddenly in her mind, as if his mere presence had been enough to break down the barriers she had created over the years. Saving herself, so she didn’t have to face what she came from.
‘You don’t understand,’ he said, more measured now. ‘Poor Louise. I know you’ve been through a lot. If you can just let me explain, you’ll know why you’re here . . .’
‘No,’ Louise said, firmly but without raising her voice as he had done. A minor victory, but she could see his features fall a little, which made it feel more substantial. ‘I can’t let this go on.’
‘Yes, you can. You know that’s the answer. What you’ve been searching for all these years.’
‘And you’d know what I’ve been doing all this time?’
‘I know more than you realise.’
Louise didn’t say anything for a few moments, trying to formulate a response that didn’t sound as empty as the threat she wanted to throw at him.
‘Tell me why,’ she said finally, risking another step closer. She could see him more clearly now, his features, marked and changed over the years since they’d last stood this close to one another. The lies and broken promises thick in the air between them. ‘Why did you let me live thinking you were . . . gone?’
He had been the Bone Keeper. Always. Another thought that sprang up out of nowhere, without prompt. Yet, the information meant nothing to her. She felt cold inside.
‘I had to go, Louise,’ he replied, turning his back on her now. ‘The fire gave me a way out. To get back to where I belong. To where you belong. You should have come with me after. That was the right way for you.’
Louise ignored the last part. ‘All these years I’ve carried the belief that I was alone. That I was the only one left. Why?’
‘It was better this way.’
The wind whistled around them, as the sky darkened further. Louise could feel the familiar feeling growing inside her now. The one which she tried hard, so often, to ignore. The hatred and anger, like a black ball of pus in her stomach, bubbling and craving attention. To be released.
‘And you were him. All along.’
‘There is no him. Just me. You know why I’m here. Why I’ve always been here. You feel it too.’
‘I don’t understand . . .’
‘Yes you do, Louise,’ he said, cocking his head to one side and seemingly studying her anew. ‘Some of us have a need to play sports, or become lawyers or politicians. You wanted to protect people, so you joined the police. We all have our callings.’
‘And yours was killing people?’
‘It’s more than that, Louise,’ he said quickly, standing taller now. The small clearing began to feel as if it were closing in around them. Louise could feel it become tighter, more constricting. ‘So much more. I’m free. I own my life. My story. No one can stop me.’
‘You sicken me.’
He laughed, deep and repellent. This was the real him. It had always been there, hidden away from her and all those who had known him. That’s what it felt like now. She had glimpsed the person behind the facade he’d worn like a mask. This was him.
His laughter c
ame to a sudden stop. ‘What else can I be?’ he said, his features turning in an instant. ‘I can’t be like all the people out there. Mindless drones. That’s not me. It’s not you. Tell me, do you feel good when you lock up the bad guys? Like you’ve done something right? It’s pathetic. You were always better than just being a cog in the machine. That’s what you’ve become. Just someone else shuffling paperwork around, taking away people’s freedom. We’re all just animals, Louise.’
She hated the way he said her name. As if he owned it. ‘You’ve lost your mind. You’re sick. Let me help you.’
‘You can’t help me. None of you ever could. This was always me. You were a distraction. All of you were. All you ever did was try and stop me from being all I could be.’
‘You were never this. You’ve become something else. This isn’t the real you.’
He moved closer to her and she realised she could no longer move. Stuck to the ground, as he grew nearer, the stench of him coming along.
It’s death. He stinks of it. It will rub off on you. You’ll never be able to get it off your skin. It’ll stain and scar you just the same.
‘The real me? Is that what you want to see? Is that why you came here?’ he said, coming to a stop a couple of feet from her, staring into her eyes. She couldn’t help but hold his stare, becoming lost in the blackness there. ‘You didn’t come here for that. You came to find me. Well, here I am.’
‘Years I spent thinking you were gone. All that time . . . you were here. Letting me live with what happened alone.’
‘It was for your own good . . .’
‘That wasn’t for you to decide,’ Louise said, her voice now echoing around them. She could feel a lump at the back of her throat, as she blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. ‘Why? Why would you kill them? What have they ever done to deserve this?’
‘You should know better. We’re all evil. We all have that capacity within us. I bet you’ve got the same feelings now. You would love nothing more than to kill me yourself. To wrap those pretty little hands around my throat and choke the life out of me. You’re a detective. I bet you’ve sat opposite the bad people before. You will have felt the same then. That the world would be a better place if you just removed them from it. You ever wonder where that feeling comes from? Here’s the nasty, dirty little secret . . . we all want to be killers. We all want to do the things I’ve done. You know that’s true. You know how you feel, deep inside, locked away like all the memories you’ve kept hidden all these years. That’s why you’re here now.’
