Devil's Demise

by Lee Cockburn

  “He’s been fucking watching me, the fucking warped creep,” he muttered to himself.

  “Help me! Please, please help,” the voice came again, slightly louder this time.

  He was caught in the middle of a critical choice he did not want to make: Pursue the devil’s offspring? Or see what was calling out to him? He was a little unsure of either option. He looked into the woods, gave a loud sigh and turned to the big bins. Tentatively he opened them up one by one to see what was there, unnerved at how desolate it was at the back of the hospital. The firearms boys had arrived and he pointed to the woods, telling them the suspect hadn’t left the vicinity much more than a minute ago.

  The cop opened the last bin closest to the hospital and looked down into it. His heart skipped a beat. Initially, he couldn’t see anything but when he moved some bags his eyes could not believe what they were seeing - a woman’s face buried in trash, soaked with blood, eyes staring pleadingly up at him to help. All he could see was bright, blue eyes buried in a sea of red, reminding him of the film Carrie, when pig’s blood was poured over her at the end. The woman was wearing a nurse’s uniform, she was clearly in a bad way and he thrust himself over the ledge and climbed down to be beside her while calling for an ambulance over his radio. Ann gripped onto his vest with her quivering hand, making sure he didn’t leave her, her eyes silently pleading for help, her face disfigured by John’s brutal assault.

  “What happened to you? Who did this?” Not really thinking, not putting two and two together, the cop failed to connect that the man he was pursuing was responsible.

  Chapter 18: Pursuit

  Taylor couldn’t believe what she was hearing on the radio. “The arrogance of the man, we could’ve still been there. It’s not been that long since we left. We’ll have him though. He’s bound to have been caught on camera at some point, and the dogs should have a good chance. Come on Marcus, we’re leaving. He might still be in the area!”

  Four firearms officers sprinted into the woods, weighed down by all of their kit - their side arm, two less lethal options and their main weapon, ballistic vest, helmet and other standard issue wear. They were fit officers, one of the few specialists that were still fitness tested in the force. They were red status, which meant they were fully armed, and had authorisation to take lethal action if required, as well as the right to self-authorise if the situation warranted it.

  John was breathing hard and regretted staying to watch his pursuer for that long, although he knew he had the edge, a head start and the upper hand. He had planned his escape and didn’t have too far to go to get to his car.

  “STAY WHERE YOU ARE. DON’T MOVE OR I’LL SHOOT,” was shouted loudly through the night.

  “No fucking way have they caught up with me already, I watched them get here and I saw that both sets were still behind me.”

  Constable Lomond was bluffing, unaware of the knowledge that the suspect had. The young officer remained crouched down, 20 metres away from John, not wanting to give away his position, unaware of how sinister the suspect was. It was very dark in the trees, a slight breeze making the leaves rustle, sending a chill down his spine, as if warning him of the danger he was in. He shook off the sensation, as everyone in life is guilty of doing, ignoring his subtle senses. He repeated the order, louder this time, making his voice sound more authoritarian. He now wished that he and his partner had not chosen to split up as they entered the woods. He was unsure whether to use his radio at this time, in fear of the suspect hearing thus giving his position away, and hoped that his voice could be heard by the others and they’d come to assist him. Constable Lomond’s mouth went dry as he looked into the trees where John had been standing. The branches swayed and the shadows deceived but he was no longer there. He had vanished in an instant; the officer had only dropped his eyes for a second.

  “Fuck me! Where’s that bastard gone? Alpha Mike 23 to control. I’m at the west entrance to the wooded area, about 200 metres from the back entrance and-”

  Constable Lomond felt his hair stand on end, just before a dull thud sounded out as John struck him on the back of the head with substantial force, using a thick piece of wood. Constable Lomond dropped like a stone, falling face first onto the ground. John leaned over him to check if he was out cold; the officer didn’t move. His radio crackled.

  “Alpha Mike 23.” This was repeated several times, PC Lomond’s colleagues were seeking confirmation of his position. John smiled to himself. He thought about taking the radio to monitor their progress but remembered that the software had been updated. They all had GPS these days and they could just follow him right on home to his house.

  His smile came to an abrupt halt when he heard a dog barking from the hospital car park; the police dogs had arrived and they were pretty swift at closing down the ground, unless the handler was a slouch. John turned on his heels and ran as fast as he could in the direction of his car, which was safely parked in a residential street nearby. This time he would be more careful not to lumber into any more enthusiastic young cops. He crashed through the undergrowth, his heart racing. He was starting to worry that the plods might actually catch him this time. He got to the outer wall and climbed up to look over. Several cop cars were arriving and going to the main entrance 100 metres down the road. He knew it was only a matter of time before they fanned out and surrounded the area completely. Heaving his body up onto the wall he took his chance and sprinted over the road into a neighbouring garden, which offered bushes and shrubbery to secrete him. He pulled his feet through the bush just as another siren sounded, the vehicle racing past where he had crossed a moment before. “Close, too fucking close,” he rasped, as he pulled himself onto his feet and casually walked further away.

  Taylor and Marcus pulled into the hospital grounds in time to hear Constable Lomond’s voice on the radio. He sounded like shit. He gave his position as best he could and stated that he had seen the suspect prior to being assaulted, but was unclear exactly where he had made off to as he had been struck on the head.

  “He obviously didn’t come here on foot, unless he lives around here. Where would you have parked your car?” Taylor said to Marcus.

  “Where it won’t be noticed. Somewhere with no CCTV and in a decent residential area.”

  “Name one and we’ll start there,” Taylor exclaimed.

  Marcus slammed their car into reverse and sped to the Craigour area, the nearest scheme. They drove from street to street hunting for his car. There wasn’t much traffic around and the evening streets were quiet and almost pedestrian free. Taylor focused on every lane and open garden, hoping for a glimpse of something, knowing the odds were in the suspect’s favour as he could hear them coming.

  John stood completely still as he watched their car go by; he knew straight away that they were undercover cops.

  “Well done,” he said to himself. “Good forward thinking but I can see you and you can’t see me.”“Get the fuck out of ma garden ya fucking arsehole!” came bellowing out from the window, one floor above him, proving that there were a few rougher people living there amongst the good ones.

  “Keep your fucking hair on mate, I’ve lost my fucking dug!” he replied without hesitation.

  “My fucking arse, you’re hiding from the feds. I’ve seen them. They’re all over the place and I’ll call them right now if you don’t get the fuck out of my garden, ya arsehole!” John had no choice but to leave his hiding place and move swiftly down the street to another well covered garden before the cops returned. He could tell that the bloke meant it but wasn’t a lover of the police himself.

  Marcus turned the car round and headed back the way he had come. There was a big guy standing on the kerb flagging them down, his arms covered in tattoos, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a sneer on his face. Taylor brought her window down and asked what he wanted in a polite voice. She was about to give their excuses and carry on until she heard what he had to say. He told them that he had seen a guy hiding in his garden as
they drove up the street, and he was only grassing because there was something not right about him.

  Taylor asked, “Can you be more specific?”

  “He gave me the creeps man. His eyes were pure evil, like, and if looks could kill, I’d be deed!”

  “How long ago? Which direction?”

  “Barely minutes. He went down to the right and I lost sight of him. I was just checkin’ that he was leavin’, ‘cause I dinnae want him comin’ back to ma door. He’s a fuckin’ scary looking bastard an’ all.”

  “Thanks, thanks a lot. I mean it!” Taylor turned to Marcus her eyes wide and excited. “Come on, we’re close!”

  John unlocked his car and climbed in just as the headlights came round the corner. He ducked just in time but did not know if he’d been seen. Sweat poured into his eyes, the result of the chase through the woods and the assault course through the gardens showing all over his face. His heart raced in anticipation of being caught, there was no way he could talk his way out of this one with sweat pissing all over his face and no plausible explanation.

  Did they see me? Was I quick enough to get down? I’m up shit creek if they did, or perhaps they are.

  Taylor was looking to the left and Marcus to the right as they rounded the corner. There were cars parked on both sides, windows with condensation on them, none of them looking as if they’d been moved all night. “Shit it’s like a ghost town up here. He could be anywhere,” said Taylor. “Call in the last sighting of that guy seen in the garden. It might not even be our guy cause this area can be full of strange folk and robbin’ wee bastards.”

  Marcus got on the radio and told them their position and then they headed in the direction of the high flats at Moredun.

  “The last sighting of him was at Craigour Crescent, near number 14, and get a dog set to come along here ASAP and see if they can pick up a scent,” Taylor called on the radio. “He’s still fucking here. I can feel it in my bones and we need to find that bastard!”

  Hands shaking, John raised his head and watched the unmarked car head off towards the high flats. He quickly turned the ignition key and put the demister on full blast, hurriedly wiping enough of the screen to see out. Putting the car in gear he slowly pulled away with his headlights off and headed in the opposite direction of the police. He kept his speed down, although the huge speed bumps prevented any great speed anyway. His heart still pounding, he allowed himself a wry smile as he reached the main road that ran parallel to Dalkeith Road, because the minute he got onto that road, there would be several other cars travelling in the same direction and he could join them and blend in like all the other good people going about their lawful business.

  After touring round all of the parking areas of the high flats, Marcus turned back, retracing his route. Taylor had suggested they head back to the hospital and get a full update on what had happened there, leaving the marked cars to take over as the suspect could be anywhere by now. They pulled round the corner back onto Craigour Path, where they had already been, and looked at all of the parked cars one more time.

  “There’s one fucking missing from over there. Shit we were too quick to leave. We should have got out and walked and physically checked them all out!” She pointed to the recently vacated space.

  Marcus turned to her with an anxious look. “It could have been anyone, Taylor. You’re just gonna beat yourself up thinking the worst.”

  “It is the worst. Get the dogs to number 14 and if that mutt stops here where that car was, we’ve driven right past that bastard and he knows it. Fuck, fuck, FFUUUUCCKKK!” she yelled at the top of her voice and thumped the dashboard, making Marcus jump.

  They sat at the space where the car had been and listened on the radio as the dog set called up, confirming that he was at 14 Craigour Crescent and that the dog had indeed picked up a scent, just as they’d suspected. There hadn’t been any pedestrians in that area and that was good for the preservation of the scent particles that the dog’s nose could pick up. The scent was only left a short time ago. Taylor and Marcus watched as the General Purpose dog, one that dealt with tracking human scent, came round the corner, nose to the ground, heading straight towards the space.

  “No, no, no!” exclaimed Taylor as it stopped dead at the spot where the car had been and sat down, wagging its tail.

  The handler clapped the dog and threw it a ball, reward for a job well done. He leant in Taylor’s window and said, “Serg, the vehicle that left was driven away by the guy who was hiding at number 14 and if he’s the guy from the hospital, he’s long gone by now.”

  “Thanks for your help. We should’ve checked the fucking cars Marcus. Why didn’t we do that, hey?”

  “Hindsight is a wonderful thing and we did look at all of the cars. There was condensation on all of them. We weren’t to know.”

  “Can you remember what type of car was there?”

  Marcus looked at her and said, “A dark one. All of the cars on that side were dark. As for the type, I can’t remember, something non-descript!”

  “Let’s head back to the hospital and see what the score is,” Taylor sighed. “We were so close, so god damn close. He watched us, you know, and the outcome could’ve been so different, all for a few measly seconds.”

  Taylor moaned as she looked out of the window. “Where are you now, you twisted bastard?”

  Chapter 19: Loose Ends

  Taylor entered the hospital at the main entrance, avoiding A & E as there was always something going on involving the police and she didn’t want to get embroiled in any trouble. She went to Susan’s ward and a young police officer stood almost to attention as she arrived.

  “No-one’s to go in there.”

  “I’m Sergeant Nicks and I am in charge of this investigation.”

  “Sorry Sergeant, I didn’t know who you were,” and he gestured for her to carry on after looking at her ID.

  She thought to herself, at least he’s doing his job properly, regardless of what was said.

  At a glance, she saw the state of Susan’s pillow before looking over at Mary’s bed; the sheets were soiled with urine and the covers dishevelled. She caught a nurse as she walked by.

  “Where are they? Are they alright?” she asked.

  “They are both okay. Mary is a little shaken up and has been moved to Ward 10 and Susan is with Andrew in the TV room, waiting for the police to speak with her.”

  Taylor looked at her. “There was a nurse hurt too, was there not? How is she doing?”

  “Ann. She’s down at A & E with facial injuries but nothing life threatening. She’s tough as old boots that one.”

  “Will I be able to speak to her?”

  “I assume so although her mouth will be sore. She lost a couple of teeth but she’ll want to tell you all about it. She loves a good story.”

  ¤¤¤

  John parked his car in his driveway and moved inside quickly, sweat soaking through his clothes and his heart still pounding. He kicked an old beer can hard against the wall and shouted, “BITCH,” at the top of his voice. I’ll get her and she’ll wish she hadn’t survived. They can’t look after her 24/7 and when they let their guard down, she’s mine. His thoughts drifted back to the night he had spent with her, the pain and terror he put her through still fresh in his mind. He licked his lips, saliva glistening on his unshaven face. I want you again, I want to savour you one last time and this time you will die, but it won’t be quick. He clicked on the TV and put on the news channel; the local news had just finished and he threw the remote across the floor with rage. He wanted to hear them talk about the night at the hospital and his escape. He took great pleasure in outsmarting the police. Easy when you had spent years working alongside them, working hand in hand with them, providing video evidence for a multitude of crimes in the city, and it certainly helped when he knew of every city and view camera in existence and what they covered. He was aware of police tactics; how many there were and timescales for their attendance at call outs. He was blissfu
lly unaware, however, that on that night’s news, there had been a press release admitting that there was a dangerous criminal on the loose targeting women. An apparently accurate sketch artist’s drawing of the suspect had also been shown along with a large reward for information. John sat blissfully unaware as he slouched back on his couch, his hand now buried in his trousers as he recalled the night he had tortured Susan.

  ¤¤¤

  “Thank you Ann, you’ve been a great help, and I’m glad you saw the sketch earlier and you’re sure it was the same man.”

  “Yes I’m sure. His eyes were so demon like and sinister, I’ll never forget them. He was utterly terrifying. The sketch is definitely a true likeness.”

  Taylor turned to Marcus as they left A & E, an old tramp nearly bumping into them. The vagrant was completely drunk, looking for a place to rest his head for the night, somewhere warm to sleep, much to the annoyance of those waiting for treatment.

  Taylor said to Marcus as they walked, “He’s totally lost it you know. He wasn’t worried about how many people saw him and the risks he took just to get near to Susan were unbelievable.”

  Marcus agreed, saying, “I think he’ll regret this mistake big style. He appeared to want another chance to prove it, and almost at any cost, if tonight’s anything to go by.”

  “The photo fit was being released on tonight’s news. Let’s see what that will turn up for us and take it from there.”

  “Why didn’t he kill anyone tonight? He had the chance and didn’t take it,” Taylor exclaimed as they made their way into the parking lot.

  “Maybe not enough time to enjoy it or maybe he’s playing god with other’s lives? Who knows? The guy’s a fucking freak anyway. Who knows what goes on in his mind?”

  ¤¤¤

  Peter sat watching the news in his house, staring at the screen when the photo fit came up. He laughed to himself, thinking that John at work wouldn’t see the funny side, that the guy terrorising the city was a spitting image of him. It didn’t even cross his mind that the guy he shared eight hours a day with was a murderer. He’s such a normal guy. No way could he have carried out all of the things that have been reported. John’s just a decent hard working guy, who is just a little lonely and a little awkward around women. It couldn’t be him, he convinced himself. They’d have a right laugh about this at work when they were back on shift together. The girl from the office where John worked froze when she watched the news; she remembered the way she had felt in the lift that day when his eyes had roamed up and down her body like an animal stalking its prey. He had unnerved her that day and she had only been exposed to him for a few seconds. Could this possibly be the same person, she questioned herself. Lucy Millar picked up the phone and dialled the number shown on the screen. The phone was answered reasonably quickly and a woman asked what information she had and the basis of the call. Little did Lucy know that she was number 478 to call in since the bulletin was aired on mainstream television. It was amazing how many people saw things when there was a reward to be had, bogging down the police with false leads and fabricated stories to try to get their hands on the money.