The Colour of the Soul

by Richard T. Burke

  “If that’s what you’re after, Kevin, I’ll split it with you.”

  Steven frowned. “You think this is about the money, Frank? Seriously? You honestly believe I’ve done all this just to get richer? I’m disappointed in you. No, this is about one thing and one thing only: revenge.”

  Mark shuffled forwards in his chair. “I’m sorry. I never thought you’d go through with it. It was a stupid idea.”

  “So you still loved me as your brother?”

  “Well ... yes.”

  “And yet in ten years, you made no attempt to track me down. I’m afraid I don’t buy that. It’s one betrayal after another, and I see you haven’t changed your ways. I felt cheated when I discovered your girlfriend was in a coma and I would be denied the opportunity to take her from you. For a while, I thought about making you suffer by finishing her off in the hospital, but it seemed you had already given up on her, just as you gave up on me. This way is so much better: more personal. I’m guessing you still have feelings for her. I mean, you asked her to marry you if her sister’s diary can be believed. Or maybe, you have some ulterior motive like you always seem to.”

  “I turned him down,” Annalise said. “You won’t be punishing him by hurting us. Please let us go.”

  Steven leered at her. “It’s far too late for that. It’s time to find out how much he really cares about you.” His hand reached into his back pocket and came out holding the knife. He opened the blade. The razor-sharp edge glinted in the light cast by the two lamps. He moved until he stood equidistant from the sisters, a yard from the sofa.

  “Eeny, meeny, miney, moe.”

  Their eyes followed the tip as it alternated between them.

  “Catch a—”

  The hammering of a fist on wood carried up from below. “This is the police. Open the door.”

  Chapter 57

  Steven’s face clouded in anger. “How the hell did they find me? If anybody makes the slightest sound, they die.”

  “What difference does it make?” Mark said. “You’re going to kill us all, anyway.”

  “Are you ready to die right now, brother?”

  Mark remained silent.

  Steven raised the knife and took a step forward. “I asked whether you want me to end it now.”

  Mark shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

  “Good. Sit still and keep quiet.” Steven turned away from his captives and padded to the window. He stood with his back to the wall, nudged aside the edge of the curtain and peered down. The angle was wrong to identify the man at the door. He surveyed the street. Instead of the array of armed officers he expected to see, the well-lit residential road with its rows of parked cars seemed empty. There was no obvious evidence of a police presence. He jogged across to the kitchen and gazed through the grubby pane of glass above the sink. Darkness shrouded the tiny rear garden and the alleyway behind. Nothing moved. He sauntered to the lounge, a smirk on his lips.

  “Sorry to disappoint you all, but it looks like there’s only one of them. I’m half tempted to go downstairs and sort him out.”

  He yanked apart the fading curtains. He undid the latch and leaned out. A solitary man in civilian clothes stood at the door.

  “What do you want?” Steven called.

  The policeman glanced sharply from side to side then identified the source of the voice. He stepped back and looked upwards. “Steven Jennings?”

  Steven ducked his head so his face was hidden from the visitor below. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

  “My name’s DCI Davies. Can you come down and open the door?”

  “What’s this about?”

  “If you let me in, I’ll tell you.”

  “Have you got a warrant?”

  “I just want to ask you some questions.”

  Steven laughed. “Have you any idea what time it is? If you don’t have the right paperwork, go away and come back at a more civilised time. In the meantime, piss off and leave me alone.”

  Annalise had been listening intently. A slight movement on the armchair caught her attention. Mark had edged forwards and was perched on the edge. Their gazes locked.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

  He gestured in the direction of the door. Once again, his lips moved soundlessly. “Run.”

  Until that point, Mark’s aura had been nothing but a shimmer, barely visible even out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly, a haze of radiance erupted from his body in an expanding sphere of bright light. Annalise blinked at the sudden intensity. He launched himself from the chair, the tendons in his neck taut, his teeth bared in a howl of fury. He tilted his frame forwards as he charged towards their captor, arms bound behind his back.

  Steven was fastening the latch when the roar reached his ears. The weapon was still in his hand as he whirled around. He had no time to raise it before Mark slammed into him. The collision drove Steven backwards. His elbow hammered into the pane of glass, shattering it into a shower of razor-sharp splinters. The knife spun free and skittered across the floor. The impact winded them both. Mark recovered first. He flung himself forwards in an attempted headbutt. Steven dodged to the side, his brother’s forehead glancing off his shoulder. The momentum carried them into the wall in a tumble of limbs. Mark came to rest on top but had no obvious way to make his temporary dominance pay. In desperation, he lowered his mouth and sank his teeth into the flesh of Steven’s upper arm.

  Steven screamed in agony and shoved his sibling away. Mark spat on the carpet, blood staining his lips. The two men scrambled to their feet and circled each other.

  Mark knew it would only be a matter of time before he succumbed if he couldn’t quickly gain an advantage. He had lost the element of surprise, and his bound wrists severely restricted his options. He launched a savage kick at his adversary’s groin. Steven darted sideways and Mark’s foot passed harmlessly by. Mark staggered, unbalanced by the attempt. Steven stepped in and responded with a sharp jab to the kidneys. Mark doubled up, winded by the blow.

  The grin returned to Steven’s face. “Nice try, bro’, but you know I’m going to win in the end. Then I’ll force you to watch while I butcher your two girlfriends.” He frowned at Mark’s look of triumph. Steven risked a glance at the sofa and realised it was empty. As he turned back, a kick smashed into his side, knocking him to the ground. Rolling away from the follow-up, he spotted a glint of light from beneath the television stand. He scrabbled over the stained carpet and closed his fingers around the reassuring firmness of the knife handle. Sensing his opponent’s approach, he sprang upright and lunged forwards, extending the weapon ahead of him.

  The blade penetrated Mark’s stomach to the hilt. A sigh escaped from his lips. Steven wrapped an arm around his brother’s neck, forced his hand upwards and twisted. His eyes remained fixed on his sibling’s face. Mark gasped in agony.

  “So long, Frank.”

  A trickle of blood dribbled from Mark’s mouth.

  Steven relaxed his grip and allowed his brother to sink to the floor. Then he sprinted across the room towards the staircase.

  Chapter 58

  As soon as Mark launched himself forwards, Annalise struggled to her feet. The two men crashed into the window. The crunch of broken glass accompanied the grunts of effort as they wrestled on the carpet. She glanced down at her sister who sat motionless, eyes wide in shock. “Run,” she hissed.

  Beatrice shook her head. “But what about—?”

  “Unless we get away now,” Annalise interrupted, “we’re both going to die.”

  The urgency in her sister’s voice jolted Beatrice out of her stupor. She shuffled forwards to the edge of the sofa and staggered upright. The two girls hurried towards the doorway, casting anxious glances at the fight taking place on the other side of the room.

  “Down the stairs,” Annalise whispered. A shove in the back almost caused her to stumble. “Don’t push.”

  Beatrice whimpered in fear, crowding close behind her sister. Annalise took the steps as fa
st as she dared and arrived at the front door. A figure in a pale-coloured top stood a few yards away. She could make out an upturned face through the frosted glass but couldn’t identify to whom it belonged. Turning her back, she extended her hands, grabbed the handle and pulled downwards. It refused to budge.

  “Help, we’re trapped,” she called out, whipping around towards the exit. The man advanced a pace and reached for the outside handle. It rattled as he twisted but didn’t turn.

  “It’s locked,” came a male voice. “Is there a key?”

  A crash reverberated through the ceiling. Annalise glanced upwards. The policeman stepped aside to avoid the trickle of glass fragments raining down from above. Annalise scanned the door with increasing panic. Yes, there was a key.

  “Hurry up,” Beatrice whispered through chattering teeth. “I think he might be coming.”

  Annalise turned her back and closed her fingers around the protruding metal. She twisted first one way then the other, but all attempts at movement proved futile.

  “It won’t rotate,” she yelled in mounting desperation. “He’ll be here in a second. Can’t you break the window?”

  The man hesitated. “I think you need to lift the handle before turning the key.”

  “My hands are tied,” Annalise screamed. “There’s no way I can hold them both at the same time.”

  “I’m not waiting any longer,” Beatrice sobbed. “I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom.” She pivoted on the spot and stumbled up the stairs.

  “Don’t go,” Annalise shouted at her departing sister’s back. Beatrice ignored her calls. Annalise spun to face the only escape route, but there was no sign of the man outside. A sense of despair settled over her. Steven would be there at any moment. She wavered for a second then decided to follow her sister. She had climbed two steps when the man’s muffled voice called from behind.

  “Keep away from the door. I’m going to smash the glass.”

  Annalise sat on the stair. She averted her head as a heavy object thudded into the frosted window. A spider web of cracks emanated from a point at the centre of the pane. Another crunch followed, and this time, several shards fell on the mat. Now she could see a man wearing a pale blue jumper. In his hand, he held a rock. He used it to bash out the remaining jagged splinters from the bottom of the frame. He dropped the stone, reached his hands through the opening and raised the handle.

  “A bit lower,” Annalise called as he groped for the key.

  The man lowered his head, and she recognised the features of Tony Davies. Their eyes met for a second. A look passed across his face, but she couldn’t determine what it meant. His fingers closed on the brass disc and twisted.

  “There you are, bitch.”

  Annalise pushed herself upright as the figure of Steven Jennings appeared at the top of the staircase. Streaks of red stained the fist clutching the knife. She immediately knew to whom the blood belonged. He bounded down the stairs, two at a time.

  The door swung towards her as Davies finally turned the key. With a squeal of terror, she staggered forwards through the narrow gap. She burst through three paces ahead of her captor, almost knocking over Davies as she raced past. Steven ignored the policeman, all attention focused on his prey. In the rush to catch up with her, his foot caught on the doorstep. He pitched headlong onto the concrete path, losing his grip on the knife. It tumbled over the tiny patch of lawn and came to rest four feet away.

  Annalise barrelled through the narrow gate. She sensed the lack of pursuit and glanced behind. Davies took a step towards the weapon then halted. Steven crawled forwards on his knees, winded by the fall. Seeing the policeman’s hesitation, he lunged to snatch it up. He scrambled to his feet and waved the blade in Davies’ direction. The police officer raised his hands and backed away.

  Steven set off after Annalise. Davies remained rooted. At the gate, Steven stared left and right. At first, he didn’t spot her, but a sudden movement on the other side of the road caught his eye. Annalise sprinted along the pavement as Steven rapidly closed the gap. The handicap of bound wrists restricted her speed. “Help!” she screamed. “Somebody, please help.”

  Fingers landed on her shoulder and spun her around. She tumbled over, losing the skin from her elbow on the rough concrete. A hand seized her by the upper arm and hauled her upright. The other held the razor-sharp edge to her throat.

  “Thought you could escape me, did you, bitch? I haven’t finished with you yet.”

  “Let her go,” Davies said from behind them.

  “Oh, it’s the tough guy policeman,” Steven sneered. “You could have taken the knife off me when I fell, but it’s too late now. How did you travel here?”

  “By car.”

  “Give me the keys or she dies.” He jabbed the tip of the blade into Annalise’s neck. She moaned as a trickle of blood ran over her skin.

  Davies raised his hands. “I don’t have them. It isn’t my car.”

  “Well, whose is it?”

  “Mine,” Billings said, halting beside his colleague.

  “I take it you’re another copper.”

  “DCI Alan Billings. You can’t get away, you know. I’ve already called in for backup. Why don’t you just give up now and save us a whole load of bother?” As if to reinforce his statement, the sound of distant sirens drifted towards them on the night breeze.

  “Hand over the damned keys, or I swear to God, I’ll slit her throat right here.”

  “Alright, calm down. Take them.” Billings tossed the car keys on the ground. They landed midway between the policeman and the murderer.

  “Move away or she gets a knife in the neck. Go on, further back.”

  The two policemen edged backwards. The discordant wailing sound shattered the night. Steven crouched down. He waved the blade at Annalise’s midriff and snatched up the fob. “Where is it then?”

  Davies was about to point at their parking spot when Billings gestured in the opposite direction. “Over there.”

  Steven jabbed the unlock button. A chirrup accompanied the flash of the indicator lights. Anger flooded his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He pressed the knife tip against the skin of Annalise’s neck. She groaned. A second rivulet of blood joined the first. By now, the wail of the sirens rose and fell, blending together in a raucous wall of sound.

  “Lie down on the pavement,” Steven commanded, “both of you with your hands behind your head. If you move before I get in, she dies.”

  The two policemen did as instructed. Steven shoved Annalise forwards and hurried towards the police car.

  Chapter 59

  Steven yanked the door handle on the driver’s side towards him. “Get in,” he commanded “Climb over into the passenger seat. And hurry.”

  The flashing blue lights were now visible against the night skyline as the forces of law and order converged on their location.

  “But I can’t with my hands tied behind—”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, you’re a useless bitch.” He severed the knots binding her wrists and shoved her forward. “If you try anything you can expect to find a knife sticking out of you.”

  At that moment, he spotted the other passengers. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Thank God you’re alive, Annalise,” Sophie said. “Why are you doing this, Mark? Where’s Beatrice?”

  Annalise clambered over the centre console. “That’s not Mark. He’s the younger brother. Bea tried to hide.”

  “Ah, you must be the parents. Get out,” Steven ordered.

  “We can’t,” Dan replied. “This is a police car. The doors can only be opened from the outside.”

  “Well, in that case, it looks like you’re along for the ride.” Steven twisted the key in the ignition and dropped the clutch. The vehicle surged forwards, smashing wing mirrors off the line of parked cars. The wail of car alarms immediately joined the cacophony from the approaching police sirens. Steven turned right at the junction without waiting to see if the road
was clear. He glanced over his shoulder and identified the first direct signs of pursuit. The intense blue light burnt an afterimage on his retina.

  Annalise grasped for the seatbelt buckle, convinced they were about to crash.

  “No, leave it off,” Steven demanded. Annalise hesitated. The knife lay on the seat between his legs. He caressed it and leered at the terrified girl. Satisfied at her reaction, he lowered it to the same position. Gripping the wheel tightly, he navigated his way through the rat run of narrow streets leading to the wider main highway. At this time of the morning, there was no other traffic. He blazed across a junction, ignoring the red light. He laughed at the flash of the camera. “I think the copper’s going to get a fine.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Dan asked, leaning forward and meeting Steven’s eye in the rearview mirror.

  “Shut up. If you say another word, I’ll make a hole in your daughter’s leg.”

  The car screeched around a left-hand bend. Steven checked for signs of pursuit and felt the tension leech from his body at the absence of any police presence. At the next junction, he turned right and joined the main road. He stamped on the accelerator. Soon they were cruising at a steady seventy miles an hour.

  Annalise glanced sideways. This close to her kidnapper, she found herself sitting partially inside the swirling mass of darkness surrounding him. She could almost sense the pressure on her skin. Although there was no sensation of touch, the feeling was disconcerting. She edged closer to the door to open the distance between them.

  “What happened to my sister?” she asked in a low voice. She held her breath as she waited for the answer.

  Steven twisted his head and studied the teenage girl. His eyes returned to the road, and a malicious smile crept over his face. “She’s dead—just like your boyfriend.”