by Michael Wood
‘God I hate that programme. That bloody sponge’s laugh cuts straight through me.’
‘The one that lives next door to him with the big nose reminds me of my first boyfriend, Terry. Remember him?’
Alice laughed. ‘God yes, the miserable sod. What you saw in him I’ve no idea. Two years you went out with him; I don’t think I saw him smile once.’
‘Neither did I and I slept with him.’
They both laughed.
‘Tea will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to open a bottle of wine?’
‘What a silly question. Of course I want to open a bottle of wine.’
Alice screamed.
‘What the hell?’ Jenny asked, startled. She looked over to her sister, thinking she’d burnt herself on the cooker but she hadn’t. Once again she saw Alice staring straight ahead out of the window. Jenny followed her gaze and saw the masked man who had threatened them two nights before.
‘Oh God Alice, he’s come back. Call the police.’
Alice stood still, frozen to the spot.
‘Alice, do something.’
Alice was just about to move when the intruder used the key and unlocked the door. He stepped in, locked the door behind him and held a gun aloft, pointing it directly at Alice.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said, his voice deep and menacing.
He was dressed from head to toe in black like last time. The same wrap-around goggles and the elaborate face mask covering his nose and mouth. It muffled his voice but the accent was distinctly Yorkshire. He took huge strides forward to the stricken sisters, his solid, muscular build making heavy footfalls on the wooden floor.
‘I’ve come back for my money. I know I gave you until the end of the month but things are happening and it needs to be now. This time I’m not pissing about. I either leave with cash or one of your kids. Which is it to be?’
Alice was shaking. ‘Look, I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t owe you any money. Kevin didn’t owe anybody any money and I haven’t seen Lucas for months.’
The intruder stared into Alice’s eyes, watching as the pupils danced wildly back and forth. She was scared. He turned and moved over to Jenny.
‘Do you watch horror films?’
‘What?’ The heavy frown on her face showed she wasn’t expecting to be asked that.
‘Horror films. Do you like them?’
‘Some. Not all.’ Jenny was petrified. She was clutching the bottle of wine as if her life depended on it.
‘Do you know what I hate about horror films? You’ve got the killer who spends most of the film going around killing people then at the end when he’s trapped his main victim he spends about twenty minutes chatting to her, giving the police plenty of time to come and save the day. Why not just kill her as soon as he gets there instead of all that chatting? Doesn’t that piss you off?’
‘Erm, yes, I suppose it does.’
‘What about you Alice?’ He looked over to Alice who was still standing by the cooker, unable to move.
‘I guess so.’
‘The killer should just walk up to his victim and put a bullet between her eyes. Like this.’
He placed the gun directly onto Jenny’s forehead and pulled the trigger. She didn’t have time to scream or beg or plead. The back of her head exploded and splattered on the cupboard doors behind her before she dropped to the floor with a dead thud.
Alice buckled. She almost fell to the ground at the horror of what she had just witnessed. She tried to scream but nothing would come out. She fell against the built-in cupboards behind her and tried, but failed, to keep herself standing. She slipped to the floor and began to cry. All she could think about were her children innocently watching SpongeBob SquarePants in the next room. The contrast in events in the space of a few feet was too sickening to contemplate.
The intruder walked towards her and crouched down to her level.
‘I bet you thought I’d get bored and leave you alone. Wrong. I want my fucking money.’
Alice was about to start pleading again before the attacker held up a hand to silence her.
‘I’ve been doing some ringing round since my last visit. I’ve got contacts. I know people; bad people. Either I get my money or I take your daughter and I hand her over to men who love nothing better than fucking little girls.’
The doorbell rang.
Sian and Faith were standing on the doorstep of the Hardaker home in Broad Elms Lane. It was coming up to 7.30. The surrounding houses were all lit up; the everyday routine of a weekday evening was continuing as normal.
‘Nice area,’ Faith said.
‘Yes. I like this front door,’ Sian replied looking at the Victorian wooden door with its symmetrical stained glass window in the centre. ‘I wonder how much something like this would cost.’
‘Maybe she’s gone out,’ Faith said looking up at the house.
‘Well her car is there and there’s a light on in the living room. Ring again.’
Faith pressed the doorbell and stepped back to look up at the upstairs rooms.
‘Answer the door.’
Alice was shaking. Her hands were covering her mouth and her eyes were wide. She was in shock and couldn’t stop looking down at her sister’s body. Her face was a distorted mess. Jenny was pretty, her hair neatly styled, make-up always applied, understated and never too much, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty. She was no supermodel, and could maybe stand to lose a few pounds, but she was attractive in a simple and discreet way.
‘Answer the door,’ the intruder said through gritted teeth. His voice low and deep.
‘I can’t. I can’t move,’ she eventually said.
The doorbell rang again.
‘I’ll get it,’ the sing-song voice of the eldest child, Warren, said.
Alice gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth again to stop herself from crying out.
The intruder grabbed her by the collar and dragged her over to the kitchen door. He held her firm in the crook of his arm and placed his leather-gloved hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. He was hurting her and she was struggling to breathe. He leaned in to the door, straining to listen. He could hear the security chain being removed and the door opening.
‘Oh. Hello. Is your mummy in?’
‘Yes. She’s making us tea.’
‘Could we talk to her?’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Sian and my friend here is Faith. We’re from the police. We’d just like to have a few words with your mum before you have your tea.’
‘Can I have a look at your badges?’
‘Of course you can. Here you go.’
There was a long silence while the small boy was looking at the identification cards.
‘They are so cool. I want to be a policeman when I grow up.’
‘Do you? That’s good. Well, you need to be a good boy and work hard at school.’
‘I do. Mrs Bishop says I’m good at maths and I always listen.’
‘You are a good boy. Can we come in and see your mummy?’
‘Yes. Me and my sister are watching SpongeBob SquarePants. Mummy is in the kitchen.’
‘OK. Well you go back and watch your cartoon and I’ll come in and see you before we leave.’
The front door was closed. The intruder pulled Alice to the other side of the kitchen and pushed her down on the leather sofa. He stood at the side of the fridge, out of sight of the door, his gun pointing at Alice.
There was a slight knock on the door and it opened quickly. ‘Mrs Hardaker, I’m Detective Sergeant Sian Mills. This is—’
She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw a stricken looking Alice with uncontrollable tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes followed Alice’s as she looked from Sian to the floor behind the worktop where Jenny’s body was.
‘Alice. What’s happened?’
The intruder waited until Sian and Faith were fully in the kitchen before he
jumped out from behind the fridge, ran over to the door, slammed it closed, locked it and pocketed the key. He held the gun aloft.
‘None of you move. Not a single step.’
‘Oh my God!’ Faith cried out and immediate fell onto the sofa next to Alice. Sian remained stoic and eyed the intruder.
‘Colin Theobald?’ she asked.
There was no reply.
‘We’ve been looking for you all day,’ she continued. ‘You’re not an easy man to track down. Why don’t you take off the mask? We know who you are, you may as well.’
Sian and Colin remained locked in a stand-off. Neither of them was going to move first, giving the other the upper hand. Eventually Colin removed his glasses to reveal deep-set dark eyes sunken beneath a heavy, threatening brow. Slowly, he unhooked the mask from the back of his head and removed it from his face. He had several days’ worth of stubble and his jawline was firm and rigid with angry tension. His nostrils flared rapidly. He was standing on a knifepoint. He was ready to snap.
‘Shit,’ Sian said under her breath, so quiet that only she heard it.
‘So what happens now?’ Colin asked.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?’ Sian placed her hands in the pockets of her jacket to hide the fact they were shaking.
‘That’s between me and Mrs Hardaker.’
‘And what about …’ Sian nodded towards Jenny.
‘Well, nobody seemed to be taking what I was saying seriously. I think they needed a warning. They’re not very bright these Hardakers.’
‘You know the family then?’
‘I know the brother; a complete loser. I’ve only just become acquainted with Alice and Jenny.’ He looked past Sian and winked at Alice who winced under the power of his stare.
‘So why are you here?’
‘I’m owed some money. I’ve come to collect.’
‘Who owes you money?’
‘Alice does.’
Alice shook her head but couldn’t open her mouth to talk. Her emotions were running high. She was afraid that if she tried to speak a torrent of tears would pour out, alerting her children, and putting them in mortal danger.
‘How much?’ Sian asked.
‘It started out at ten thousand pounds. It’s twenty now.’
‘That’s a lot of money. Why would she owe you twenty thousand pounds?’
‘Because she paid me to kill her husband.’
FORTY-SIX
The black BMW drove at speed down Dobcroft Road. With cars parked on both sides of the narrow road traffic flow was restricted to a single lane. Ben Hales swerved close to parked cars as he ignored the twenty miles per hour speed limit. Cars coming in the opposite direction had to pull over, if they could find a space, or risk having their wing mirror whipped off. Drivers beeped and swore at Hales but he continued regardless.
He turned onto Whirlowdale Road, much wider than Dobcroft, so he hit the accelerator hard and charged up the road. The road was in darkness with Ecclesall Wood on either side of it. Hales was lucky he didn’t run anyone down.
His vision blurred through the tears and panic. He slammed down onto the brakes, the tyre screech echoing around the quiet road. He pulled off his seat belt, jumped out, and headed into the woods.
Hales was breathing heavily. He fought against the strong wind and fine rain. The terrain was soft and awkward underfoot and he was soon out of the range of his headlights and plunged into darkness. What was happening to him?
He fell against a gnarled oak tree and crouched among its mighty roots. His intention was to frighten Matilda, to warn her, to tell her that he would always be watching her. Even if it took the rest of his life he would be keeping a close eye on her, waiting for her to slip up and then he would pounce, rub her nose in her failure, and tell the world that he had been right all along: Matilda Darke was unfit to work for the police. He knew it before everyone else and he would have the last laugh. That was his plan. He had been building up to it for months. So why hadn’t it worked?
When he cornered her in the hallway and he inched closer he saw the look of terror etched on her pale face, the fear in her wide eyes. He could hear her breathing quickly, see her chest rising and falling, feel her warm breath on his face as he leaned in. He raised his hands and placed them on her throat. He was going to strangle her, squeeze every last ounce of life out of her body and drop her to the floor. Except … when he touched her, when his cold shaking fingers made contact with her neck, the anger he felt dissipated. The feel of her skin ignited something within him. She was smooth and soft. He felt a stirring in his stomach, like butterflies. He instantly began to relax and the sensation of warmth spread down to his groin and up to his lips. He felt himself smile. He locked eyes with Matilda and the world stopped turning. Neither of them blinked. The unknown had become known. Matilda’s fear escalated. Ben’s determination to kill waned. Something else was about to happen. Ben Hales was going to force himself onto her. He was going to rape Matilda Darke.
He let go; backed off. He turned and left the house without looking back. He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want her to see the tears streaming down his face.
Now, crouching in the damp woods by the trunk of a several hundred-year-old tree he vomited. The disgust he felt for himself, for what he had turned into, rose up inside him and he ejected it all over the soggy ground. When his stomach was empty he kept retching. He wanted every drop of evil inside him to come out.
Through the tears and the hacking he screamed his apologies to Matilda – but they were lost in the wind.
Ben Hales had reached the point of no return. He had become everything he had ever hated.
Matilda stood in the shower as the skin-dissolving hot water rained down on her. The strength of the jets and the heat had numbed her body long ago. She no longer felt the pain and the burning, yet she still felt the sensation of Ben Hales’ fingers lightly tracing her neck before his grip took hold. The second he touched her his entire persona had changed. He turned from a pathetic, angry, bitter man into a vicious predator. He was going to inflict the worse possible crime a woman could endure. He was going to rape her. She saw it in his eyes: the brief glimpse of violence and lust. She knew he wanted to hurt her – something long-lasting that would live with her for the rest of her life. She had no idea he was capable of such barbarity.
She braced herself. The last man who had touched her was her husband. She had never thought of being physical with another man. Matilda didn’t want anyone else touching her. She had no idea her next form of physical contact was going to be a violation of her body. Her mind immediately brought up the conversation she’d had with Rory in the hospital canteen after interviewing Lois Craven: If a bloke tried to rape me I’d kick him so hard between his legs he’d need surgery to have his balls removed from his throat. That hadn’t happened. She’d frozen. Fight or flight? Like Lois, she did neither.
Matilda stared deep into Ben’s eyes and saw the hatred and the anger looking back at her. And then, it was over before it could even begin. He let go of her neck. He swallowed hard and blinked and when he opened his eyes the monster was gone. He was back to the sad, pathetic Ben Hales. He turned and left without looking back.
She waited in the hallway and listened for the sound of his car starting. She strained to hear it disappear down the road at speed. As soon as the house fell into silence once more Matilda ran to the front door, slammed it closed, and locked it with the bolts at the top and bottom before securing the safety chain. She ran upstairs and made it to the bathroom just in time to be sick.
Ben Hales was wet, cold, and covered in dried vomit. He was frightened by what he was turning into. Did he really have the potential to become a rapist? He wondered what had stopped him and, more importantly, what would happen if there was a next time?
He staggered out of the woods and, surprisingly, his car was still waiting for him at the side of the road. He had left the driver’s door open and the key in the ignition
. People were obviously very honest in Whirlow. He slumped in behind the wheel, turned on the engine, and slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator. He didn’t bother putting on his seat belt.
From Whirlowdale Road he turned left onto Abbey Lane. At the junction, the lights were in his favour, not that he was planning to stop, so turned left onto Abbeydale Road. There was very little traffic about so he roared along at sixty, seventy miles per hour. As he reached the bright lights of the Tesco petrol station the traffic started to build up. He swerved to get around an ancient Fiat Punto and drove into the path of a single decker bus. The driver slammed on the brakes and sounded his horn but Ben paid no attention.
The lights ahead were on red. He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator and closed his eyes. Something hit him. He had no idea what it was but he felt his entire body shift in the car. His head hit something hard and the life was knocked out of him. Before he lost consciousness Ben thought of the driver who had rammed into him. He thanked them for saving his life by taking it away from him.
FORTY-SEVEN
DC Rory Fleming drove like a man possessed. He had tried to call Matilda’s mobile several times but she wasn’t picking up. He’d managed to get through to the ACC who was on her way back into the station but Matilda seemed to be off the grid.
The traffic was shocking as he approached Abbeydale Road. He assumed there had been an accident or a break down, so he took the back roads. He pulled up outside Matilda’s house and ran to the front door, simultaneously knocking hard and ringing the bell. Her car was in the driveway so she was obviously home.
He looked up at the house but it was in darkness. He knocked again, harder this time.
‘I’m coming,’ he heard an exasperated voice from inside call out but he still continued with his knocking.
The door opened and a very red-faced Matilda stood in the doorway wrapped in a pink towelling dressing gown.
‘Rory, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’ve been ringing and ringing for ages. You’ve not picked up.’
