“Are you going in to work today?” she asked when we were clearing up.
“I’m going in to see George first thing,” I answered. “But I’ll probably come home after that.”
“Shall I come round after work?” she asked, her eyes searching my face.
“Of course,” I said as cheerfully as I could. If I hadn’t changed my mind, the sooner we talked the better. “Do you want to pick a takeaway up on your way round?”
“OK,” she answered. “Is it alright for me to leave my car in the garage today?”
I told her it would be fine and we walked to work hand in hand. George was already there when we arrived, sorting out the post. He looked up as we entered, straightening as he saw me.
“Jack,” he said with a failed effort at a smile. “How are you?”
“Not great,” I admitted.
“You didn’t have to come in today,” he told me reprovingly.
“I’m probably not going to stay for long,” I answered. “There were just a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you first.”
“Of course,” he said. “Do you want to come through to my office? Oh, and there was an odd letter waiting for you this morning.” He reached into the pile in front of him and picked up a small white envelope. “It must have been hand delivered.”
As he handed it across, I looked at the single word “Jack” printed on the front. I couldn’t tear my eyes from that one bit of writing. “It’s from him,” I said finally.
“From who?” George said in puzzlement, but Katie was much quicker to grasp what I meant. “From the killer?” she said, and I nodded.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t open it and just take it straight to the police.” George suggested.
I thought about that for a minute, but then decided. “If the previous notes are any guide, there won’t be any fingerprints on it anyway. I may as well know what he’s got to say to me this time.” I tore open the envelope and took the note out, to be greeted by the familiar script.
Jack,
Maybe you’ve learned the lesson now. Your life is worth nothing because I can so easily undo all your achievements. If fact, it’s worth less than nothing – you are a virus that blights the life of everyone you have contact with. Don’t you think that they would have been better off if they’d never met you? At least they might still be alive. I made sure they knew, as I carved the screaming little girl up like a joint, that it was all your fault that they were going to suffer and die.
I hope you can live with the guilt, at least for a little while. Is it time for us to meet, or do you think I can find some other things you value to take away from you first? I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.
Soon,
Guignol
Once I’d read the note, I handed it across to George and Katie. Katie gasped silently as she absorbed its contents.
“This is one very sick person,” said George. “You need to give this to the police as soon as possible.”
“You mustn’t believe what he’s written,” Katie said furiously. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. None of this is your fault.”
“Maybe,” I said without much conviction. “But it pretty much confirms what I’d already decided. My being at work could well be putting other people in danger. Who knows who he’s going to target next – another client; you, because you’re my friends; or anyone? I just can’t take the risk anymore.”
“I understand why you’re saying that,” George answered. “But what option do you have? You can’t just stop your life altogether because of him.”
“I think the end is getting closer,” I said. “He seems to be escalating the whole thing. I think it’s best if I stay away from work until it’s all resolved, one way or another.”
“What do you mean, one way or another?” Katie demanded.
“I mean until he’s stopped and caught, of course.” I tried to cover up for my earlier blunder, but I could see that Katie wasn’t persuaded. “Sooner or later he’s going to make a move on me, and I’m sure the police will trap him then.”
“Only if they’re not still convinced that it’s you who are behind all this,” Katie replied, putting my own doubts uncomfortably into words.
“I’m sure this note will help to convince them,” I lied. “George, are you really sure that you can manage without me?”
“We’ll miss you, obviously,” he answered. “But we can cope with the work alright. Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”
“I’m sure that it’s what I have to do,” I said firmly. “If I carry on working and he does then kill another of my clients, I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself.”
“OK,” he said. “But you make sure that you keep in touch and let us know how you are.”
“I’ll come round to your flat as soon as I’ve finished work,” Katie said. “Do you still want me to pick up a takeaway on my way?”
I was very tempted to tell her to stay away as well, but I could tell from the determination in her eyes that she wasn’t in the mood to listen. In any case, I thought I at least owed her a proper explanation.
“Yes, that would be nice,” I said. I waited around to see Barbara when she arrived so I could explain to her as well what was going on. She’s not someone given to great physical displays of emotion, but this time she gave me a fierce hug. I said my goodbyes to the three of them and, with one last look around the Centre, left. Part of me wondered if I would ever be in the place again.
I walked the short distance up to the police station, and reported to the main desk. Neither Laura Smith or Michael Palmer were in the station, so I left the note with the constable, who promised to pass it on to them as soon as they arrived.
I walked slowly back to my flat, well aware that I had a lot of thinking to do before I was ready to face Katie again.
Chapter Thirty Two
It was about six thirty when Katie arrived at my flat, carrying a bag of Chinese food. I’d spent most of the afternoon rehearsing what was going to say to her, but figured it could wait until after we’d eaten. It did strike me that there was a certain sick irony in the fact that she’d chosen to get Chinese. It meant we were replicating what we’d eaten on our first date together.
During the meal, we chatted pleasantly enough, with Katie telling me about the events of the day at work. It was a strange feeling to be an outsider of the life at the Centre. Once we’d finished eating and cleared up, Katie came up to give me a kiss. I responded briefly, but then gently moved back to look her in the eyes.
“We need to talk,” I said. Something flickered for an instant in her eyes – puzzlement, wariness, precognition – I couldn’t be sure, but she sat down facing me. I took a deep breath and tried to remember my prepared script.
“Katie,” I began. “I think you are the most wonderful and beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I love being with you.”
I paused for a moment. “Why do I have a horrible feeling that there’s going to be a but any second now?” Katie asked me.
“Probably because you’re great at reading people,” I admitted. “But I think we should stop seeing each other.”
Whatever she’d been expecting me to say, she clearly wasn’t ready for such a final statement. Her face momentarily displayed surprise and hurt, and I had to fight the strong impulse to take her in my arms and say that I was talking rubbish.
“Is this about last night?” she demanded. “Do you think that things are moving too fast?”
“No, it isn’t that at all,” I tried to reassure her. “Last night was the most special of my life. I’ve never felt so at one with another person. I suppose it did make me think about where our relationship was going though, and about whether I was being unfair to you.”
“You weren’t exactly twisting my arm,” she said. “I think that there’s something special developing between us as well. Why on earth would you want to stop that?”
This wasn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped.
“There are things about me that you don’t know,” I began. “Things that might make you feel differently about me.”
“I doubt it,” she said firmly. “Let me try three guesses. You really are a serial killer. You’re gay. You’ve already got three other wives hidden secretly away. Am I close?”
Despite myself, she managed to make me smile. “No, it’s not any of those,” I told her.
“Then I think we’ll probably manage to work our way through it,” she said with determination. “Whatever it is, I love the person you are now and we’ll cope.”
Her declaration that she loved me almost made me lose all composure, but I forced myself to stay firm. “It’s not just that anyway,” I said. “There’s a killer at large who seems to be determined to target everything that’s good in my life. Being together with you could be putting you in danger. I’ve already got enough guilt to carry without being responsible for that as well.”
“Don’t try and hide behind that,” she said, sounding angry for the first time. Her voice softened again. “Let’s at least be completely honest with each other Jack, OK? I know how scared you are about what the killer’s going to do next. But if he knows as much about you as he seems to, the he already knows about our relationship. You splitting up with me isn’t going to make a blind bit of difference unless you plan to take out full page adverts in the paper to tell the world about it.”
I had to nod at that point. She’d obviously been thinking a lot about this as well.
“If anything,” Katie continued. “You could argue that the more time we spend together the better, since it would make it harder for the killer to attack one of us.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But you could equally argue that the more time we are together, the more certain it becomes that he’s going to decide to attack you.”
“Possibly. But that’s exactly my point. Whatever we do could be wrong, so let’s not pretend that it’s a reason to split up. This is just between you and me, and I think you owe me a full explanation. Shouldn’t it be up to me to decide if these dreadful “things I don’t know about you” mean we can’t be together?”
“I’ll try and explain,” I said finally. “But you’re not going to be able to change my mind about this. Do you remember the first time that you came here, you read a poem that I’d written?”
“The sad one?” she said instantly. “Of course I remember it.”
“Well, it was about me – about what I’m really like once you get past the surface,” I began, and went on to describe the abuse I had experienced, and the way that it had shaped and stunted my personality. When I’d finished, her eyes were damp.
“I knew it had to be something like that,” she said after a period of silence. “It wasn’t just the poem; there’s a sort of vulnerability about you that I sensed the first time we met. Rebecca picked up on it as well. It was probably that in the first place that made me feel drawn to you.”
“But that’s how it works,” I continued. “Liz was exactly the same at the start. Even though we didn’t know about the abuse then, she could sense something. She thought that she could love me enough to make it all alright, but that wasn’t how it worked out. I don’t want to end up hurting you in exactly the same way.”
“But you wouldn’t have to,” she argued. “You just said yourself that you didn’t know what the cause was. Now you do, we can deal with it together.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I said. “When I saw the police psychiatrist the other day, he said I was incapable of feeling real emotions. I’m just a shell, but you deserve someone who will love you properly.”
“That’s rubbish. You can’t stand there and tell me that you don’t have feelings for me, because I know you’d be lying. Tell me truthfully that you aren’t beginning to love me and I’ll go.”
“I’m not beginning to love you,” I said. “I do love you. I love everything about you. But the sort of love that I’m capable of is only very shallow. You need something better than that, someone who isn’t so emotionally scarred and crippled.”
“That isn’t your decision to make,” she insisted. “You might have been hurt badly, but I love you as you are today. I’ve got my own past you know, my own scars and secrets. That’s what a relationship is all about, gradually learning more about each other and helping to heal the other person’s hurt.”
“And if the hurt doesn’t ever get healed?” I asked. “Then you’ve condemned yourself to being miserable until the relationship slowly bleeds to death. You’re too precious to me to let you take that chance.”
“That’s not your decision,” Katie shouted. “It’s mine. Do you think that chances like this come along around every corner? I believe you and I have something special – something that neither of us might be given again. And you want to throw it away just because it might not work out?”
“I just couldn’t bear to be responsible for hurting you,” I said.
“What do you think you are doing now?” she asked. “There aren’t any guarantees in love. It might not work out between us, you might get fed up of me, anything could happen. But surely it’s worth taking a chance, because it might just turn out that our love grows and lasts us a lifetime.”
“I don’t believe that I’m able to have that sort of love,” I said stubbornly. “The longer we’re together, the more you’re going to get hurt in the end. It’s better if we end it now, so you have a chance to find the person who’s right for you, instead of wasting your time on me.”
To my amazement, she gave me an enormous hug. “You are the right person, you idiot,” she murmured passionately. “But if you don’t believe that, then we really haven’t got a chance.”
She pulled away, and then carried on speaking. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life,” she said with conviction. “if you want us to stop seeing each other, then we will. But I’m not ready to give up on you just yet. I’m going to wait for you to come to your senses and realise that you can’t manage without me.”
She had to stop for a moment to regain composure, as tears were rolling down her cheeks. I hated myself for putting her through this, but the stubborn voice in my head kept insisting “better now than later”.
“You’d better make your mind up soon though,” she added. “Because I’m not going to wait for ever. Just remember how much I love you. You might never be given another opportunity like this one.”
“Maybe I don’t deserve one,” I muttered, my head bowed to stop myself from breaking down.
She stood up and kissed me on the top of the head. “I know you’re upset and confused,” she said. “But I want you to think about one thing for me. Whoever this bastard who’s trying to destroy you is, he’s wasting his time isn’t he? You’re determined to do it all by yourself.”
I didn’t look up as she left. The only clue as to how she was really feeling came with the slam of the door behind her. I sat unable to move for what seemed like hours. Her final words echoing repeatedly in my head. Maybe she was right. Maybe my unwillingness to risk loving her was my final fulfilment of the belief that I had been born for Endless Night.
Right at that moment, I couldn’t escape from the feeling that I had damaged every life I had had contact with. I had made Liz unhappy, I was making Katie unhappy. Images of the tortured bodies of Jill and Sophie swam before my eyes, along with an unbearable weight of guilt.
The blackness settled upon me like a weight. The words “destroy yourself” played in my head as if they were on a repeating tape loop. I was suddenly struck with what seemed to be a brilliant insight. If the killer was choosing victims to get at me, then the process would have to end if I wasn’t around. If I were dead, then the game couldn’t continue. If my life had put people I cared about at risk, then maybe my death could set them free.
In that instant, it seemed like the obvious solution. I went into the kitchen, and found a sharp knife, only realising as I did that it was already dark outside. Back into the liv
ing room, I sat down in the armchair.
I rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt, to expose my right upper arm. Once more I pressed the sharp point against my pale flesh. This time though, I reasoned, my death wouldn’t just bring peace to me at last, it might save the lives of others. I pressed harder, feeling no pain as the skin parted under the coolness of the life. In the moonlight, the blood, which blossomed on my arm like a flower, was a rich black. “Press harder” the voice in my head willed.
But my arm seemed to be frozen in place. Katie’s words came fully back to me. “He’s wasting his time, isn’t he, because you’re determined to do it all by yourself.” What I was doing now was the final confirmation of what she had said.
Was I really ready to let him win so easily? To die without ever knowing who it was, or why they had chosen me to fixate on? I knew that the likely end of our strange dance was that he would kill me, but at least I might get the chance to look him in the eye and try and get him to face up to what he had done. The pressure on the knife eased slightly.
In any case, I told myself, it seemed rather foolish to commit suicide and leave all those who cared about me with the guilt of wondering whether they could have done something to stop me. Especially when there was someone who seemed so determined to do the job of ending my life for me. Now wasn’t the time, I decided and lifted the knife away from my wrist.
Now the sting of the cut made itself known. I went into the kitchen and rinsed the knife and the wound. It was still bleeding fairly heavily, so I found my first aid kit and slowly bandaged it up. This is the last time that I’m going to do this I told myself, but the words didn’t ring with much conviction.
It was going to be another long night.
Chapter Thirty Three
Shaping the Ripples Page 25
