Hinton Hollow Death Trip

by Will Carver

  It was that kind of greeting, it really summed up the kind of person that Margot Doyle was. Fake and vacuous. Unsympathetic to such a degree that she seemed completely removed from reality. And she loved to talk. To everybody. About everything.

  Catherine wouldn’t have even bothered if Steph hadn’t mentioned it that morning at the school gates. No doubt Steph would have nudged Margot about expecting a call so if Catherine hadn’t phoned, the mills on Mount Gossip would be spinning a wonderfully elaborate fabrication about her and her stuck-up ways.

  Sometimes in life it’s easier to sit in the shit with others and lie than it is to step around them and keep your feet clean.

  ‘Steph mentioned that a few of the mums had got together to form safety groups to walk the kids home.’ Catherine did not want to enter into a conversation about Rachel Hadley, she thought it was in exceptionally poor taste to even bring it up. She was feeling bad about making Ben go to school, but the strength she had gained from her rest convinced her it had been the correct decision.

  ‘Oh yes. It’s just so daunting. Immy and Tam are already tagging along so you should jump in our group to make a foursome.’ Catherine could hear the fake smile over the phone.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No problem. How are you feeling with the new baby?’

  ‘Well, he’s not so new any more. I’m still a little frazzled, but hitting that six-week turn.’ Catherine didn’t want to say too much because Margot had a gift for fiction. Margot had already turned that one sentence into deluded and finding it impossible to cope with two children.

  ‘It’s always harder when you’re outnumbered.’

  She couldn’t listen to any more of Margot’s clichés.

  ‘I think I can hear him in the other room now. Will need feeding again. Got to dash. I’ll meet you at the gates after school. See you then.’ And she put the phone down, she’d already taken the receiver away from her face mid-sentence.

  On the floor beside her feet, the six-week-old was quietly and contently cooing.

  ‘Now you’re quiet. Couldn’t even muster up a few tears to help your mum out.’ She smiled at him. She was happy. And, though it had started to rain quite heavily, she was looking forward to walking down Stanhope Road to pick Ben up from school.

  THE PERFECT DISTRACTION

  It ran like clockwork. And many animals were harmed in its making.

  Like always, it began with a delivery.

  The blue, dented truck pulled in around forty-five minutes after Darren had arrived for work. In the hot weather, some cows are exhausted or sick by the time they reach slaughter. When it’s cold, they can stick to the sides of the metal transport and have to be prised away. That day in Hinton Hollow, the weather was cold but not freezing. It was wet and the storm was well under way.

  The animals were meant to be checked for stress but they were not. The workers find it hard to care for something that is about to die, anyway. And that level of care only worsens the longer they perform their killing duties.

  Any cow that is sick or limp or dead is dragged out by a rope that is tied around its legs.

  This was not the delivery Darren was waiting for.

  He performed his duties, adding to the container of cow skulls and eyeballs.

  TWO THINGS HAPPEN WHEN PEOPLE HEAR SOMETHING LIKE THIS

  At first, they are disgusted at the treatment of animals.

  Later, they eat meat.

  This approach does not work in a world ruled by apathy and privilege.

  Next it was lunch.

  Then came the visit.

  The new recruit was being shown around the place. It wasn’t uncommon for them to throw up or even pass out. The scent of the faeces alone never left the place. Animals under stress tend to defecate. When living things die, they shit. You could see it on the new guy’s face, and that was before he saw all the blood.

  That’s when the pigs arrived.

  The rookie serial livestock killer was the perfect distraction.

  Darren went out as the truck arrived and slipped the driver some money. To keep one back. Not a big one, and not one of the lame ones, either. There’d be no fun in chasing that. Just one that he could drag to his car, throw into the boot and tie its feet together.

  And that is exactly what happened.

  While the new recruit threw up on the stairs and old colleagues chaperoned some screaming pigs towards a brutal death their eventual consumers traded off against the promise of a wholesome existence while alive, Darren ran off with a pig, put it into his boot, tied its feet together and drove it back to his house.

  By the time he returned to the abattoir, the kids had already been kicked out of school and nobody had even noticed he was gone.

  I only had a light hand on his shoulder that day.

  The rest was all Darren.

  A SQUEEZE

  Ellie Frith was alone in the Ablett and Ablett office when Roger returned, punching himself in the chest as he always did after one of his red-meat feasts.

  ‘That lazy, good-for-nothing brother of mine still not here?’

  ‘Just little old me,’ she chirped, her new devil-may-care attitude now with some added devil.

  Roger lowered himself back into his brother’s chair and logged in to his computer. Twenty-three new emails including one concerning an offer for the riverfront property in Twaincroft Hill. He rubbed his chubby mitts together then used them to shield his mouth as he coughed.

  ‘I saw Detective Pace at the diner. Said he’d had a nice chat with you after he left.’

  ‘Not sure whether I’d call it nice.’ She didn’t look directly at him. ‘Seemed very interested in Charles, though.’ She glanced quickly around the side of her screen but Roger was flicking through his emails.

  ‘And I’m sure you were nothing but complimentary, Ellie.’

  ‘I was honest, Roger. I only told him what a hundred other people in town could’ve told him.’ She was brazen and confident in her disregard.

  I had them all in my hand.

  ‘Mmm hmm.’

  That was all he said.

  If he was honest, the business ran more smoothly without the presence of Charles. He was a distraction. It would probably be best if his brother did not turn up at all.

  As he thought that, I reached into his heart and squeezed.

  MERELY A PRECAUTION

  Not everybody in Hinton Hollow was aware of Detective Sergeant Pace. Even those who had known him in his younger years would not recognise the man he had become.

  He pulled up in the residential area between Hinton Hollow Primary School and the park where Jacob Brady had been murdered. There were hundreds of flowers decorating the pathway and tied to the fence next to the swings. Pace never understood the idea of giving a woman flowers. For him, they always signified death. Untimely death.

  Pace was still using his unmarked car, though he had advised Anderson to be more conspicuous with his choice of vehicle. Pace did not need to advertise his presence, his being there was enough. He could be felt.

  Evil could always be felt.

  His dishevelled, dark and enigmatic appearance shone brightly against the backdrop of the pastel bucolic scenes that epitomised Hinton Hollow life. A ghost traipsing through a Constable painting. He stood out. And for many of the mothers waiting at the gates, he seemed like a threat. A possible danger that clouded the safe passage of their children.

  Of course, calling the local police station was useless because, thanks to Detective Sergeant Pace’s idea, nobody was there to answer the phone. Nobody was there to help. But the mothers did as they were advised to do; they huddled together in packs, leaving nobody behind. They felt hunted. But, as long as there were no stragglers, as long as there was no weakness, they were sure they stood a decent chance of returning home safely.

  Pace watched as women crowded together, some brave – or stupid – enough to let him know that they had spotted him lurking around the school perimeter.

 
; I’m the good guy. I’m here to stop this. He told himself this, knowing it was only a half-truth.

  Little. White. L i e s.

  He rolled his eyes and walked towards the largest group. There were eight mothers crammed in a circle. He saw two of them freeze rigid as he edged closer.

  Every mother acting in a different way.

  Each of them with their own manner.

  He couldn’t know how any of them would react.

  With caution, he reached into his pocket. One of the women – the one with the out-of-date hairstyle – opened her mouth slightly as though to scream. He clocked that. She was pre-empting his weapon.

  Pace pulled the warrant card from his pocket and flicked it open. The woman with the open mouth managed to catch her scream before it was released.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Pace,’ he announced. Sixteen shoulders dropped their tension, and many more who were looking on. ‘Good morning. It’s great to see that you are taking the advice and being so vigilant.’ He was speaking in his official voice.

  But wouldn’t it have been easier and more secure to keep your child from school and stay at home? the unofficial voice in his head countered.

  THINGS THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASIER

  Being nice to your neighbour.

  Not coveting someone else’s partner.

  Honouring your parents.

  Not stealing.

  Not killing.

  ‘You think he’s coming back?’ The woman with the too-tight perm quivered.

  ‘I’m merely here as a precaution, ma’am. A deterrent. You are right to be cautious. If there’s anything you feel uncertain about, do not hesitate to inform me. I’ll be right over there.’ He pointed to the spot he had walked from. ‘Good day, ladies. Get home quickly and together.’

  He said nothing else and returned to his post. A spot he had decided would give him a great vantage point but also allowed anyone lurking to note his presence.

  Word travelled around the groups of parents quickly that the man in the long coat was part of the local police detail. If there was one thing he could rely on in Hinton Hollow, it was the speed at which rumour moved.

  Pace followed a strict routine as he surveyed the area, but his eyes kept being drawn back to the woods beyond the park. He had picked up on them that first day back in town when he was called out to the scene where Jacob Brady had been shot.

  The rain, which had been stopping and starting all day, finally decided to rage.

  It made Pace feel small.

  And wrong.

  And exposed.

  GREY AREA

  Reynolds and Lynch had the opposite issue to Pace. They were dressed in full uniform, patrolling the front fence of the secondary school – part of which fell on Twaincroft Hill land. There were very few parents waiting outside but several had made the effort to ensure the safety of their offspring.

  The children were of an age where they could walk to school themselves or with a friend and, like certain members of the local constabulary, many of the parents had invented a pattern that did not exist and believed their kids were not in harm’s way.

  Reynolds was tired from another all-night shift and adrenaline was pulling him through what he was calling protection detail. Both constables had the best of intentions, and they hadn’t simply fallen into their careers. They wanted to help. They wanted to serve and protect. The fact was, they just weren’t set up for the scenario their town had found itself in. It was probably best that they were out of the way. As far from the action as possible.

  They were useless.

  That is the reason they were assigned to the secondary school, the outskirts of town. It was exactly where Detective Sergeant Pace needed and wanted them to be.

  Out of the way.

  The diluted edges of evil.

  NOT LIKE A MOTHER

  It took a few minutes to figure it out but Catherine Raymond eventually managed to fit the plastic rain cover over the pushchair. She had wrestled with it inside-out and back-to-front before eventually figuring out the correct position of the crumpled polygon, the eyelets on the elastic fitting perfectly over the protruding hooks on the frame.

  Her baby was swaddled in a blanket and tucked within a fleece foot-muff before being covered by the shelter that would protect him from the rain. Catherine packed a bag with wipes and spare nappies and a change of clothes though there was no way she was going to unravel her child from his protective cocoon; the school was only a few minutes away. But mothers were supposed to be prepared.

  She double-checked the pocket of her bag though she knew the printed cinema tickets were in there. She’d already checked twice. Then she closed the flap, tapped the leather and threw it over her shoulder. She was going to make things right. God knew she had been neglectful. She hadn’t been herself for weeks. Her husband had been a stranger in that time, her eldest son, forgotten. And her new baby, a nuisance.

  Catherine Raymond had been wanting to feel something. Joy at the new addition to her family. Relief. Pride in the pregnancy and the birth. But she had felt numb. Not like a woman. Not like a mother. But she was determined to get through this.

  She was strong.

  She would put everything back together the way it was before. Better than it was before.

  HANDLE IT

  Councilwoman Hayes sashayed into Hinton Hollow Police Station soaked in shade. Her heart touched with anxiety, her head filled with mischief. She locked the door behind her. Nobody was on the front desk. She laid her jacket over it and began to unbutton her blouse as she walked to the door behind. The clock on the wall said 14:55.

  Twenty minutes before school finished.

  Inspector Anderson had no luck with recruiting extra hands and was clearing away his things before leaving. He was hoping that Pace was right; if the man with the gun was going to attack another school, he would double-bluff and return to Hinton Hollow Primary. Pace would be able to handle it, he comforted himself.

  F e a r.

  The last thing he wanted was to be confronted by the killer himself. That is not the reason he had chosen the position in Hinton Hollow fifteen years before. That was not the way to cruise to retirement.

  The man with the oversized moustache was so preoccupied with his own thoughts and the trepidation of fulfilling his job description that he did not notice his door was open and framed the silhouette of a woman, her right leg bent coyly, sexily, her blouse hanging open. Relaxed. Inviting. Enticing the officer into the absence of light.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ He was startled. ‘That looks like an excellent idea but I’m not sure it’s the time…’

  ‘Is there ever a bad time?’ She closed the door behind her and waited.

  ‘Not usually, Anita, but I’m on my way to Stanhope School. Standing guard, so to speak.’ He moved some stationery around his desk, trying to distract his own thoughts.

  ‘You’ve got almost twenty minutes. It shouldn’t be an issue. Take the car.’

  Anderson wasn’t sure what was annoying him more, the fact that she appeared to be making a comment on his sexual prowess or that yet another person was throwing orders his away and telling him how to travel around the town that he was in charge of protecting.

  Or that Anita Hayes was walking towards him, her hands soft against her own skin, and he knew that he was going to do exactly what she told him to do.

  Weakness everywhere.

  SAFE WITH ONE

  Stanhope Road was a circus. A lot of parents had made sure that they arrived at the school before the bell rang for the end of the day. The pathway was not wide enough for the herds of people hoping to escort their children back to the safety of their homes, many of them realising that community solidarity was too much like hard work. They were standing in the road just to be as close as they possibly could to the gate.

  Catherine Raymond could see the gaggle from a few hundred yards away. Not a parent on that pavement was bothered by the rain pelting down on their heads. She picked out
Margot’s tousled red locks and, though it seemed like one large crowd, there was a clear segregation of friendship and social groups within the larger mob. Margot was stood with four other mothers, some with a younger child in tow, others without.

  A FACT

  The only child was keeping their mother alive.

  Margot waved to Catherine then turned her hand the other way to beckon her closer. Catherine witnessed the woman lean gently to the side and mouth something to the neighbour at her left shoulder. Undoubtedly some sort of slight on Catherine’s character. She gritted her teeth and strode on. The bell rang as she neared and a hundred adults bolted like a hare from the trap.

  Kids flew out of the blue door and into the playground. They were unaware of what was lurking in the shadows. The clouds above were black and ominous. Miles away, thunder was popping and crackling, heading towards The Hollow for a showdown with fate. It was time to go home.

  Parents ushered their children out through the gates faster than a royal palace bomb scare. Catherine waited with her troupe for Ben, her hand on the side of her bag to protect the paper tickets from getting wet. She was smiling at the prospect of telling him all about it but was growing anxious as the crowd dissipated and the parents within her safety throng stared at her, agitated, because she was the only one left waiting.

  They looked at their watches. They rubbed at the kids’ shoulders as if to say don’t worry, we’ll be going home soon.

  Then Ben’s teacher appeared at the door and nodded resignedly towards Catherine.

  ‘One sec. I won’t be long,’ Catherine said to nobody in particular.

  Nobody – in particular – responded and she went in.

  PROVOKER/PRINCESS