Beyond Evidence
Page 16
Ross realised that he did not feel frightened by a vase being thrown in his direction by someone who wasn't really there, but more angry that the vase could have halted his plan immediately.
If the air in the cottage could have growled, it would have. The anger between the spiritual energies was like electricity, willing themselves to pass through him like ten thousand volts and stop him dead! But his own will was too strong for them, even though they put all of their energies together.
He placed the vase quietly on the couch as he passed it and continued on his path. As he entered the bedroom where the mediums slept, he understood what he had felt moments ago at the car.
They're protecting her, he thought to himself as he creepily approached the bed, blending in with the darkness.
He's going to be the tricky one, Ross thought to himself as he reached into his pocket. He brought out a muslin cloth and from the other pocket he brought out a brown coloured glass bottle which looked like a cough syrup bottle. He soaked the muslin cloth in the liquid inside the bottle.
Chloroform.
He placed it very carefully over Patrick's nose and mouth, but did not apply pressure. He wanted to smash the cloth into Patrick's face however he knew that doing it was not in his own best interests. Ross waited until Patrick’s breathing became irregular before he made his move.
As he listened, Patrick’s breathing had become raspy. Ross had given him enough to keep him unconscious while he carried out his plan, but not too much that it would kill him, perhaps leave him with life long breathing problems yes, but not enough to kill him.
No, no Patrick, I want you to see this as much as I want to enjoy it, Ross couldn't help smiling as he watched Patrick lying there. He made his way around the bed now, towards his goal.
Jodie was completely and utterly dead to the world. I see my little prescription worked then, he thought to himself as he smiled under his balaclava. He thought back to when he had switched the pills. It had been so easy it was as if Jodie wanted him to do it.
He took out another muslin cloth and again soaked it in the Chloroform, now placing it over Jodie's nose and mouth. Again he fought off the urge to smash the cloth into her face, as much as he wanted too, it wasn't part of the plan, it could ruin everything. And killing them both here while they slept was far too easy. The satisfaction that Ross needed to stay well would need to come from a situation where challenge was the biggest obstacle.
Jodie's breathing also became raspy and that's when he made his move, he didn't have long. He quickly lifted the cloth from Patricks face and then he used all of his strength to throw Jodie over his shoulder and carry her out of the cottage, not before dropping a note on the dining table in the kitchen, "Something for your man to read over breakfast," he smirked as he left the cottage.
He ran to the car and when he got there he opened the boot with his free hand and almost threw Jodie inside. She was still out cold, but he knew it wouldn't be long before she came too and he needed to be sure that they were on the road before then.
He taped her ankles and wrists together and taped over her mouth. "This has all been too easy Jodie, just a shame for you the car journey won't be so easy," he whispered in her ear. Ross took one last look at her before he slammed the boot closed.
Thirty Eight
The beginning of revenge
The continuous bumping sensation was what finally woke her up. It only took one second to realise that her eyes were open but she could see absolutely nothing. Then after two seconds she realised that her hands and ankles were taped together (taped and not tied for the movement of her hands and ankles made her skin feel like it was beginning to tear) and after the third second of consciousness was when she tried to call out, making her realise that her mouth was also taped closed!
What the hell is going on? She thought. There came another bump, harder now. She wriggled, tried to throw her body around to escape from where she was.
I'm in a car, she spoke in her mind. Who the hell is driving?
She was awake for what seemed like a long time, feeling every crack and bump on whatever road to which she travelled on. There was no music, no conversation to be heard or voice to be recognised.
She panicked silently, not knowing who was driving the car, where the car was going... was she going to die?
She asked herself this over and over, tears falling across the bridge of her nose and onto the oil scented floor of the boot which she lay in. Her left side ached, feeling bruised as she was thrown around the small space she had been forced to lie in. The longer she lay in the boot, the more she began telling herself she was going to die, almost preparing herself. Then she remembered the conversation she had had with Patrick, when was it? She had no idea how long she had been gone, or if Patrick even knew she was away. Would he be looking for her? She had dreamt of the girls again, felt the burning of her own skin, the wind pipe in her neck being choked. She had wondered if the spirits were trying to warn her of something that was still to come.
Oh my god, I'm in the killer's car! She screamed in her head.
The car came to a stop. She felt the engine die, her ears were ringing. The door to the car slammed, footsteps now approaching. Her heart was now slamming against her chest, her throat as dry as sand and her eyes streamed. Then came the screaming, the words, the name Mark, Ross, Mark, Ross, Mark, Ross.
It was all she could hear now, no more ringing, no more footsteps, the words in her head spoken by an amalgamation of voices, those voices crying in terror. The fear that had taken over her body made her tremble and shake as she heard the handle of the boot click open.
***
The sun shone over the hills and through the crack in the curtains of the kitchen. Patrick was sitting at the dining table holding the note in his hand;
If you're as psychic as you say you are then you will know damn sure where to find her won't you Patrick. Why don't you ask your little spirit friends to help join in the chase.
As Patrick dialled Preston's number he held onto the note, his eyes stinging due to the fact that he had been drugged and also, he hadn't blinked since reading the note.
"Patrick, to what do I owe this fine pleasure?" Preston answered chirpily.
"It's Jodie. She's gone."
"What?"
"Gone, kidnapped, stolen, whatever you guys call it!"
"You sure she's not just gone for a stroll down at the Loch or something?" Preston hoped that the thought hadn't crossed Patrick's mind yet and saying this would calm him down. The silence after the question made him realise it already had.
"There's a note." Patrick felt his anger raise him from his seat, "It's from him."
Preston didn't know what to make of this, he kept his eyes on Lang the whole way through their conversation giving him the knowledge that they had a severe problem on their hands. "What does it say?" Preston asked.
Patrick read the note to him slowly through gritted teeth, "and the bastard drugged us."
"What?" more disbelief in Preston's voice.
"I found two muslin cloths on the floor of our bedroom when I woke up and they were both damp. One was obviously mine to keep me out of the fucking way!" Patrick had to stop grinding his teeth or they were about to shatter under the pressure.
"What do they smell like?" Preston asked.
"I don't know. It's a sweet smell whatever it is."
Preston had an idea of substance that was on the cloth. "How's your head?"
"Sore and my vision is a little blurry, why?"
"I think I know what he has used to drug you. We need to test them to be sure though."
Patrick didn't know what to do, he was feeling every emotion under the sun and as it began to boil to the surface he felt his patience slipping. "Preston, what do we do now?"
"Right, we're on our way," Preston said as he tried to put his jacket on with his free hand.
"No! What's the point in that?"
"To start searching for Jodie of course!"
"But you've been drugged, you can't drive Patrick, it's not safe."
"Are you going to stop me? My fiancée is in danger of being murdered and you want me to stay put because I have a slight headache. Not a chance, arrest me if you have too!"
Preston hesitated for just a moment, "Ok, meet us at the station and we'll take it from there," he was still trying to put his jacket on, he didn't know why.
"I will be there in the next thirty minutes, oh and I have the cloths too." Patrick said.
The whole time Patrick was in the car, he pictured the note in his head over and over and he continued to repeat what he had said about being able to pick up on Jodie's presence the closer he got.
But where are they? he asked himself.
And even though he refused to say it into himself or out loud, he knew that if he didn't pick up on her presence, it would mostly likely mean she was unconscious.
Or dead.
***
He raised the boot slowly, holding it open. She looked up at him, searching for a clue as to who had taken her. She did not recognise the eyes. She tried to speak through the tape but nothing came. The fear had muted her voice.
"Hello Jodie, comfortable are we?" he smiled at her. Her eyes stared in to his and he knew that she tried to recognise them. He felt a strange pleasure from this rush through his body, giving him a surge of adrenalin.
"Now, this won't hurt you, we just need to make sure that the next part of the adventure is as intriguing for you as the first part has been," as he spoke, he soaked another small muslin cloth in the Chloroform and this time he held it over her nostrils and applied pressure. There was absolutely nothing that she could do except for breathe in the chemical.
Her instinct was to fight, but with her hands and feet restricted, the overwhelming terror began to set in.
This must have been why I had the feeling of suffocation, she thought as she jerked with all her might as he closed in on her.
As she watched the cloth draw nearer to her face, she began to smell the sweet scent that came from it. It was surprisingly pleasant, but she knew that this was not a good thing.
Her head began to ache and her eyes began to sting as suddenly they were heavy in her head. She struggled as she tried to focus on his eyes, her own vision becoming blurry and weak. She couldn't fight it anymore, the sleep was coming and it was coming fast...
He had to fight the urge to suffocate her there and then, to will his hand to release the pressure that he applied to her nose. He stopped, pulled away. She lay there, motionless, breathing now clean air. He threw the soaked cloth into the boot alongside her and slammed the boot closed again. As he made his way to the driver's seat, he felt haunted by the sound of his own footsteps on the gravel. He stopped and turned slowly to look around him but saw nothing.
Although, the feeling of a presence all around him was strong. Maybe it's just the presence of her that I can feel, he thought to himself, trying to reassure his doubts.
He composed himself and opened the car door, again only to be stopped in his tracks by the feeling of company. Again, he turned. Nothing.
Then the sound of a raspy scream in his right ear! A cold hand on his neck.
But still, no one around.
He jumped in to the driver seat and locked the doors. "Get a grip Ross, you don't have a lot of time to get her there."
The rear wheels spun up the gravel as he sped off down the deserted road.
Thirty Nine
Setting the scene
Nothing meant more to him than his mother. Nothing on the earth could replace his mother. That is why it had all boiled down to this, the final chapter in his revenge, the last sacrifice. He wasn't scared, not at all. He wanted to go, to be able to have that chance to see his mother again. Patrick had said himself that spirits were contactable through him, so surely he had a chance of seeing her, especially if he was dead!
It had taken a lot of effort and time to get Jodie to where they were now without anyone seeing them. But the hard part was over and all he had to do now was wait for Jodie to wake up and the fun could begin.
He had laid her on the floor of the room, blacked out the window and made sure that she was in a position that she would see all of the pictures, photo's and cut outs...all of them.
The room was cold and a little damp, a perfect setting to wake up and realise you are still in the nightmare.
He left her in the room, still and asleep, a chemical induced sleep. She lay on the floor and as she did, her mind slipped into the dream stage of sleep, meaning that it would be soon that she would awaken, most likely feeling groggy from the chemical.
Ross hammered nails through wooden slats that he had placed across the frame of the door. The nails were long and thick and there was no way possible that she was able to open the door from the inside. He hammered in the last nail and sat down, head against the wall and waited for her to wake up.
***
She put every single shred of energy into making her legs move quicker than they were already but it was no use. She ran on the spot and in slow motion too, like what happens to people in most dreams they have that involve running.
They looked back at her as she tried with all of her might, and were screaming, "Come now, run with us, you have to tell Patrick!"
She could feel the sweat from her brow stinging her eyelids as she tried frantically to keep up with them. "Tell Patrick what?" she called back.
"It's him," they were crying, screaming, choking on their words.
"Who's him? I don't understand?" she was calling out over the shortness of breath.
She remembered the eyes staring into hers in the car, looking for a clue in the eyes but finding nothing. The voice played over in her head, the neurons firing through her brain, trying to make the connection. And that's when it clicked.
Him...
"Oh my god, it's Mark," she said quietly, but they still heard her.
Now they were smiling, yet still running. However, Jodie was standing still and not able to shift the heaviness from her legs. She watched them go out of sight, dreading the thought that she needed them now and they wouldn't be there.
She stopped her attempts to move from where she was and looked around. There was nothing, everything was gone. There was no road or ground, there were no trees, no cars, no people or sound.
"Where am I?" she said. She heard no reply to her open question, she felt lost. "Am I dead?" The next thing she knew, she was lying down on the blackness beneath her, rolled up in a ball and feeling very cold. She could hear a faint banging sound above her, but again she could see nothing.
Then the banging became louder and had more rhythm, BANG, BANG, BANG.
The pain in her head began to throb and memories began creeping their way back into her mind. She forced her eyes open and had to blink a few times as the blurriness was thick.
She instantly remembered the room from her dream and tried to lift her head from the cold floor. The pain resembled that of a tension headache and she tried to ignore it.
As she sat up, her hip also began to throb but she pushed it to the back of her mind when she saw the extent of her situation. The banging was coming loud and in a steady beat from the door of the room. She managed to stand and she walked over to the door and as she did she could feel the banging vibrate in her chest.
A new terror sped through her when she saw the photographs on the wall, Angela, Michelle, Rebecca and Anna smiled out at her. However this is not what created the feeling of despair and desperation in her veins.
Staring back at her was herself. A photograph taken from the small article about the church was neatly pinned next to his victims' faces. She could feel the tea
rs stinging her eyes as she thought about Patrick. Did he even know she was gone, how long had it been?
BANG, BANG, BANG.
She jumped when the banging started again.
"Please let me go," she called out, attempting a brave firmness and failing miserably.
"Oh, you're up."
She held her breath when she heard the voice, shocked at the familiarity.
"So, are you comfortable in your new space, you're going to be spending a lot of time in there. Well actually that's a lie, you won't be spending too much time in there to be honest, ha."
Mark! She was too stunned to speak. She listened to him as he laughed on the other side of the door, the banging continued. She knew he was hammering nails into the wood.
She had already experienced this place in her dream...
Not dream, premonition, she heard in her head.
Then another realisation kicked in. The dreams, the panic attacks, lack of sleep, it was all linked to this moment.
"So, what do you think?" he asked calmly.
"Of what?" she replied, suddenly feeling equally calm.
"Your new room, I hope you like it," he laughed again.
Jodie slowly began pacing the room. "Why don't you quit the game and just kill me if that's what you plan on doing?"
"Oh Jodie, trust me darling, this is no game." His voice turned sinister as he spoke and she decided that it was time to face up to the harrowing truth that she was going to die in this room.
"Mark, I know it's you."
"Jodie, you don't know anything at all."
"Then tell me, tell me why you murdered four women for no reason?" she began to feel angry, all the while the tension headache beginning to travel down her spine.
Ross sat down outside the door to the room in his flat and brought his knees up to his chest. "Ah, so you heard about Anna then?"
"Of course we did. Patrick is working with police, remember?" Jodie was glad that she was on the opposite side of the door as she knew this would anger him.
"Fucking police, what's the point in that set up, it has been nine weeks, four murders already and they are still none the wiser." She heard the grin as he spoke.