by Lee Cockburn
“Did your husband ever recall seeing anyone any of the nights before this incident took place, anything that was different, anything he might have mentioned to you when he came home after his walk?”
“No, not that I remember dear. Oh yes, yes, there was something one night. A few weeks back, he said he saw a tall man that looked a bit out of place. This was in the next street from Susan’s. He mentioned that he had felt uncomfortable when he had passed him.”
“Can you be more precise, a date perhaps?” Taylor probed.
“No, no, I’m so sorry, every day seems to merge into the next these days.”
“Did he say anything else about this man. Did he see him more than once?”
“No, other than he was tall and not from around here, and that he felt uncomfortable as he walked by him. No, nothing else, I’m sorry.”
Marcus asked if there was anything else they could do for her at this time, call someone, get some help from the social services or other agency, but she had said no - it was time that she needed, time to grieve for her losses.
The two detectives walked to their car. Marcus was moved by the loss felt by this woman, whose husband of forty years had been taken from her forever, without reason or mercy. Taylor too showed emotion, but hers was displayed more in anger and disgust at this vile man’s utter disregard for human life, and the deeply sad loss he had placed upon this woman and her family. She curled her hands into fists and rapped them off the bonnet of her car making a dent. She winced at her stupidity and the pain that now throbbed from her hands.
Simultaneously the search officers were scouring the house at 15 Grainger Loan, Edinburgh. Every inch of the property had to be covered on their hands and knees; a fingertip search made of every room, the garden and the streets outside, as they attempted to reveal every movement of the beast that had savaged Susan. Small hairs were found and two fingernails in the recess of the upper hallway where they believed he had waited for her: a sign of impatience or nerves - which? It was unknown. The officers were in one of the rooms downstairs when they heard a faint cry like that of a small child. “What the fuck was that!” one of them exclaimed.
It was coming from the linen cupboard at the back of the room, the door of which was closed.
“Whatever it is, it’s coming from that cupboard.”
“Oh really? Well I’m not looking in it. That gave me the fucking creeps that did.”
“You’re such a fucking sap, Stevie! I’ll look then shall I?”
One of the other officers strode to the door where the noise had been heard, just as the noise came again and this time much louder.
“Whooaaa!” The cop tried to make a joke out of the noise, trying not to show that he was very uncomfortable but he was noticeably uneasy as he opened the door. He slowly pulled it towards him, trying to peek inside, whilst protecting himself from what might be within. Just as he opened it a little further, a cat came leaping out from the top shelf, wailing loudly as it nearly knocked him off of his feet. It ran frantically from the room and out of sight to hide somewhere else in the house, untrusting of any strangers after what had happened. The others in the room laughed heartily at his misfortune, a regular occurrence for the team when anyone happened to come across any bad luck. Laughter and hilarity were an essential tonic in sad times for the police. Not because they didn’t care but to hide the fact that they did and they were affected by things like this.
“You realise we’re gonna have to find that furry wee shit again!”
“The lady apparently owned a cat and that was it and we’ve just fucking let it go.”
“Well at least that creep never found it, I can’t imagine he would have given it a wee drop milk and a pat.”
“He would probably have made a hat out of it or something.”
“I suppose I’ll have to tell the SIO that we’ll have to search the house again.”
“Yup, you let it go ya big fanny!”
¤¤¤
Kay walked into the incident room, her hands filled with papers, her cheeks flushed with colour as she saw Taylor sitting behind her desk in animated conversation with Marcus. Taylor looked up and spotted Kay at the far side of the room just outside the Inspector’s office; she felt a pleasurable warmth flow through her, very unexpected from just a glance. Kay disappeared into the office. Taylor could only imagine her boss’s thoughts as Kay leant over to place the papers onto his desk, his leery gaze as he caught a glimpse of her breasts from between the gap of her blouse. Kay was a truly striking and very pretty woman with sleek features, high cheekbones, full lips and an athletic poise. What Taylor was feeling was a hint of jealousy; she wanted to be alone with Kay in the office, not have to share her with many, and especially not that fat prick. Marcus looked at Taylor, and noticed her attention to him had wavered and her thoughts had drifted elsewhere. He followed her line of sight, her gaze focused on Kay as she left the office and then into the incident room.
He looked at Taylor, his eyebrow raised, and asked, “Why are you so interested in her? She’s very straight and just come out of a long term relationship with Tom!”
“I know, but even you’ve got to admit it, she’s lovely, stunning?”
“Very beautiful indeed, but not for me, I have my own treasures at home, you should try it, sometimes one person can fulfil all of your needs you know!”
“Oh really!” Taylor got up from her chair and said that she’d be back in a minute, and left the room; she felt he was on to her and wasn’t ready to reveal the truth and didn’t want her eyes to give it away.
She moved quickly to the exit and disappeared from sight. Climbing the stairs three at once, she was just in time to see Kay three floors up and called out to her.
“Kay, hold on a minute, wait there!”
Kay stopped and Taylor reached her in the empty corridor and grabbed her playfully round the waist. She pulled her towards her, kissing her boldly where they stood, a deep lust-filled kiss, passionate and full on.
Kay momentarily responded to the sensation of unadulterated desire, willing Taylor to continue, but she stopped, realising where they were, and pulled away, whispering, “Discreet? If this is discreet I’d hate to see what the opposite would be!”
Taylor stepped back, her neck flushed with their feverish kiss. “I want you, you’re so god damn sexy. When I saw you go into that sleaze ball’s office, I may have even been a little jealous, and I couldn’t wait another second to hold you and kiss you. God I want you Kay,” and she motioned to kiss her again.
Kay let Taylor’s lips touch hers, slightly opening her mouth, and then pulled back and asked, “What do you want from me Taylor? The other night was wonderful, an eye opener, but what am I to you, another conquest? I’m not someone you can pick up and put down when it suits you, I’m not going to be that type of lady for you, lovely though you are!”
Taylor, being her usual casual self, hesitated with her answer, which was enough to let Kay know where she stood and she turned and walked away; the silent answer she expected. She turned into an office, which Taylor knew would not be empty and to follow her would be futile right now. Taylor slumped against the wall, a crushing feeling now deep in her heart, an unexpected feeling of loss.
“What an asshole I am. She is so right. What was she to me,? What is she to me? I don’t even know myself.”
Taylor walked back down the steps and into the office. Marcus looked up at her and couldn’t help but notice that her neck was red and a hint of disappointment was visible in her eyes.
“What’s up with you? You look like something’s got into you?”
Taylor just looked at him, a hard stare without uttering a word. She was taken aback with how much that little rendezvous in the corridor had made her feel. For once she cared and she had been just a little too blasé for her own good.
“Shit,” she muttered to herself, Marcus turned to her again.
“Do you want to get a bite to eat? I’m starving.”
�
��You’re always starving, you should be the size of a house, you lucky pig,” Taylor replied, obviously still in a grump.
“Come on, moody. There’s nothing a good old BLT won’t sort out.”
Taylor reached for her jacket and Marcus smiled as he grabbed his coat and almost skipped alongside her, just to annoy her a little more.
Inspector Findlay popped his unwanted head out of his office; Taylor’s stomach sunk with anticipation of the inevitable instructions that were to follow, likely more enquiries, more endless tasks that all seemed to lead nowhere.
“DNA results are in. Surprise, surprise - no match found with anyone on the database, but there certainly wasn’t a shortage of it, he certainly wasn’t shy; oh, and they’ve found the cat. I now want you to look through all of the outstanding missing persons, I don’t think for a minute this was this bastard’s first victim.”
Taylor nodded as they headed off for lunch. She moaned to Marcus, “That freak better not put a foot wrong; anyone who does anything these days is having their DNA taken. He better not even sneeze in the wrong direction or we’ll have him, the arrogant bastard.”
Chapter 7: Why
Early one September morning, about a year before, Louise Brennan, the ex-wife of John Brennan, walked happily to her house; she was enjoying the autumn sun on her face. She was free at last from years of torment at the hands of her brutal husband, she never thought she’d ever see that day. She now walked with a permanent limp caused by one of her husband’s assaults; he had stamped down on her thigh as she lay at the bottom of the stairs, snapping her femur in two places, causing one leg to be shorter than the other after the repair. Her face had numerous old scars, each telling its own silent story, her bones deformed in many places with enlarged areas where they had calcified on their repair. None of the assaults was ever reported to the police due to her fear of even more violent reprisals.
The house they had owned had been sold months ago; John had received his share of the money and more. Louise had tied up all of the loose ends and intended heading off to France to live in peace and start afresh. She had a year’s lease for a quaint holding there, all paid for in advance, with the keys waiting for her under the mat on her arrival.
Her mother had died two months ago leaving her a small fortune, none of which she had to give to John because the divorce had been finalised the month before. John was raging about this, but he was always raging about every tiny little thing. Good riddance, she thought to herself as she turned the key in the lock. She stepped inside and everything was just as she had left it, the furniture all to be left as part of the lease. She toyed with whether to spend her last night in a hotel or not but thought it would be easier just to stay where she now called home.
They hadn’t been able to have children, another thing John had blamed her for, never considering for a moment that the problem could have been on his side. Louise longed for children but became glad in a way that they didn’t have any because of John’s temper; what would he have been like with the children?
She could barely contain her shudder as she thought about that. She walked through to the kitchen, the paperwork for the house and the information regarding the final arrangements still lying on the counter where she had left them. Everything was signed over and all that was left to do was leave the keys and the letting agent would collect them as she had already given over all of the other sets of keys. She was fearful of the massive step she was about to take but the further she was away from John the better; she had no relatives, as she was an only child and both her parents were now dead. She didn’t care if the rest of her life might be spent alone; she only cared that she would not have to feel fear and pain anymore. She wouldn’t have the anticipation of being raped whenever he wanted her. Being safe and her freedom was all that mattered.
John had pestered her to go back to him for a short while after she had left him but strangely he had stopped as if he had accepted that she was never coming back. He had signed the divorce papers and taken his share of the money. Little did Louise know that his mind was already planning a sinister final solution of his own to their sorry excuse for a marriage.
She opened the door to the living room and froze on the spot, her breath shallow and fast; there in front of her he stood, his eyes twinkling with a strange sense of triumph. He spoke in a calm voice. “You didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you? I’ve waited patiently for you to sort everything out for me, for you to erase yourself from society so as I don’t have to cover my tracks. As far as everyone is concerned, the few that may know you, you’ve already left.”
Tears rolled down her face as she dropped to her knees, her voice at a whisper. “Why, why won’t you just leave me be, let me go John, please let me go John, I’m begging you.”
“Never! You’re mine, and I decide when you leave me! In fact you’ll be leaving soon, for good,” he smirked and walked over to her.
She looked up at him, his eyes cold and unfeeling as they met hers; she gently held on to his trouser leg, her fingers weak and her touch soft, her fingertips pleading to John’s softer side that he once had shown her many, many years ago.
“I told you that I’d never let you leave me, and I meant it.” He reached down to her and pulled her up to her feet; she was much smaller than him, half his weight and of frail appearance. He placed his hands around her throat and she whimpered meekly like a defenceless lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
“Don’t John, I’m sorry for leaving you, everything’s my fault.”
His thumbs pushed slowly into her throat, to savour the moment; her hands gripped his wrists, a futile attempt to stop him, his piercing eyes fixed on hers as he slowly choked the life from her. He pushed harder and harder. Louise lost consciousness and then he violently snapped her neck with his bare hands. He held her up, his strength easily holding her weight before dropping her to the ground; her limp lifeless body lay there. At last her prolonged and tormented battle against him was finally lost. Escape had been so close but yet so far.
He brought through a large case and savagely stuffed his beloved wife into it. There was no care for her as he jammed her limbs in, bending and twisting bone and cartilage to make her fit. There was now no obvious trace that anything had ever happened in that room.
Chapter 8: Next
He moved the barrel in the kitchen; it was quite heavy, as his wife’s decaying body lay folded double within it. Her head was pressed against her ankles, sadistically folded over like a rag doll. The barrel was sealed shut as John had welded it after he placed her there, months before, a grotesque resting place for a kind and loyal woman that he had shared such a large part of his life with. There was an old, manky, stale stained table cloth covering the wooden circle, which lay on top of the barrel which he now used as a table top, sometimes eating his food off it, thinking of her inside. It gave him pleasure when he thought of how he had shown her that he was the boss and that she could never leave him now - stupid bitch.
He pulled on a semi clean pair of pants, his work uniform, a half ironed shirt which had only been worn once and his clip-on tie. He looked in the mirror, and combed his hair, a sly smile sneaking onto his face as what he saw in the mirror was a completely different impression than others would see. He saw somebody that commanded respect, a powerful man, someone that women should obey. He thought that women should be more like they were in the fifties: subservient to men, looking pretty for when men needed relief, tea on the table on time and conjugal rights as and when they chose. There was no law against raping your wife, that wasn’t classed as a crime. He had always taken full advantage of this with his wife, even though the law had changed many, many years ago. He had beaten her regularly for the tiniest thing - burnt food, being late home from the shops, not being quick enough with his beer - the list was endless, his savagery growing as the years went by. He kicked the barrel hard as he left for work, thinking how that bitch had dared leave him, he was her master and she disrespected him;
but he showed her who was in charge, that she shouldn’t have left him, and he would show the rest of them.
He climbed into his Ford Escort, not an old car - he had used some of his wife’s divorce money to buy it. Inside was like a tip, just like his house. He had no respect for anything and he was a slovenly creature. He carefully put on his seatbelt, not because he was a law abiding citizen, but because he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention from the police, as even the slightest misdemeanour could bring him to their attention, and he didn’t want that. He was bold enough to leave his DNA everywhere as he believed he was invincible, and couldn’t risk having to give it over. He drove down his street, dull grey three-storey blocks on either side, some graffiti on the walls; pictures displaying sexual deviancy always caught his eye and made him smile to think that there were others that shared his own thoughts. He drove down through the meadows, a large expanse of green belt, where the student population relaxed on hot days and played a multitude of sports throughout the year, in between their studying and partying. Two slim female joggers ran past his car as he stopped at the traffic lights and he did not hide his gaze as his head turned in an owl-like fashion to follow their svelte bodies for as long as they were in view. They wore crop tops and lycra shorts, their taut flesh on display, unaware of the evil watching from the vehicle that they had just passed. He was tempted to turn round and have another eyeful of those girls, but better judgement prevented him. As with the seatbelt, a complaint against him would lead to life behind bars for the atrocities he had committed. He was beginning to regret leaving his identity practically gift-wrapped for those who hunted him. He shook his head and focused on getting to his work, where he had to hide who he really was and act like normal old John.
He pulled into the staff car parking area beneath the building; the swelling beneath his trousers had only just subsided and he could go about his business as normal without any unnecessary attention. His heart was still racing with the unhealthy thoughts still present in his mind regarding the girls in the park; he wanted them, but not in a way that a normal person wants something. He wanted to do unspeakable things to them, to hurt them, to make them beg before him for the very breath that they breathed.
