The Hunter Inside

by David McGowan

  Sandy knew she would have to go now. Time was getting shorter both for her and for Arnold, and if she didn’t go now she might never reach him. Their stalker might take him before she arrived. It may even decide to take her on the way, and Sandy knew that she had nothing to gain by hanging around. She had told herself that she would only stay at Melissa’s while there was no danger to her friend, and the time had come for her to leave.

  She went up the stairs quickly and into one of the bedrooms, grabbing a pair of her friend’s jeans and a blue cotton t-shirt from the ancient and battered closet that stood open in the corner of the room. She knew Melissa wouldn’t mind her borrowing the clothes; the ones in which she had arrived were in a crumpled mess at the side of the bed in the other bedroom. She had been so tired she had not even had the energy to fold them, and the last thing she had been worried about was how she would look the following day.

  She dressed quickly, noting the fact that the jeans were a little tight for her. Sandy and Melissa had always shared clothes and had always been the same size. Having children had irreversible effects upon the body of a woman though, and Melissa had not yet had any children. She went down the stairs two at a time and used a pen and the envelope in which the letter and the photograph had arrived to scrawl a note, telling Melissa that she had to leave. She didn’t say why, and she knew Melissa would be worried about her. But this was the way it had to be.

  She didn’t want to get Melissa involved in this, and if she knew about it then she would want to help. Sandy knew there was only one man that could help her, and she paused as she reached the door of the house.

  Well, here we go, she thought to herself, this is the moment of truth. She opened the door of the house, expecting to be jumped on by her stalker and a huge knife coming towards her. When nothing happened she closed the door behind her and ran to her little Toyota.

  The weather was good and this might make her journey easier. That was if the car decided to take her to wherever it was that she wanted to go. It took four or five attempts at turning the key violently in the ignition and beating the dashboard with an equal air of violence, before the engine finally obeyed Sandy’s command and spluttered into life. She put the car into gear and pulled out of Melissa Dahlia’s drive, not pausing to look back at her friend’s house. As she began her journey she stared at the road ahead, knowing that she would have to be vigilant in trying to spot the place she had seen in her dream.

  Arnold had been staying at the Sleep-Easy Motel, and that was where she now headed. It didn’t matter to her that she didn’t know where she was going. She felt that she would get there. She felt it would allow her to reach Arnold.

  27

  ‘Okay, it’s just up here on the left.’ Todd Mayhew studied a large map that he struggled to hold open due to its width being greater than his own wingspan. They had already gotten lost once and had been forced to stop to buy the map, and Mayhew’s knowledge that he’d been the guilty party made him determined not to get it wrong again.

  The tension in the air would not allow for too many incidents of a nature anything like the few minutes when they had been traveling in the wrong direction. Both men grew more tetchy and nervous as the minutes passed, and O’Neill cast a sideward glance at Mayhew before saying deliberately, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m sure. Turn here,’ Mayhew motioned with his hand, letting the map fall into his lap as he did so, and O’Neill followed his directions. The corner was a blind one, and O’Neill was in such a hurry that he took it a little too fast. Coming in the opposite direction was another car, a beat up old Toyota that was also in violation of the speed limit.

  For a split second both men thought they were going to die, as O’Neill slammed his foot on the brake and wrenched the wheel, swerving off the road, narrowly avoiding the oncoming vehicle, and ending up in a valley of thick dust that was sunk a foot below the level of the road.

  O’Neill cursed and jumped out of the vehicle, stepping back onto the road gesticulating with his hands in the direction of the car, which carried on as if nothing had happened, disappearing in less than a couple of seconds around the blind corner that had almost cost all of them their lives.

  Mayhew leaned across and looked out the door O’Neill had left swinging in his wake. ‘Sam, come on. We don’t have the time for this. Get back in the car.’

  Knowing that the other car was already long gone and unlikely to turn around, O’Neill stepped back through the thick dust, gaining a rim of orange-brown coating around his expensive Italian shoes as he got back into the car and pulled back onto the road.

  ‘Follow this road until you come to a junction and then turn right,’ Mayhew said, taking control of the situation, and the ridiculously oversized map, in an attempt to bolster the flagging spirits of the big Special Agent. ‘We’re less than one mile away, Sam.’

  O’Neill drove onwards in the direction Mayhew had pointed. He remained silent, seething with a combination of rage, fear and desperation. It seemed to him that while they were so intent on saving the world, the world was intent on placing obstacles before them. He was glad Mayhew was there to get him through the emotions that he himself must be feeling, and he admired the way in which he was able to keep them in check.

  Mayhew squinted out the passenger side window, trying to locate a street sign, as they turned right into a road containing small, detached houses. They were picture perfect, placed equidistantly from one another with small, neat gardens. All were cared for with great affection by their owners. Large, colorful plants and flowers adorned the borders of each neatly trimmed, lush green lawn. The houses themselves were equally well cared for; painted in light pastels that accentuated the beauty of the color in the garden and provided a tasteful backdrop.

  ‘This is it. We’re here.’

  ‘This place?’ O’Neill was surprised that this quiet and peaceful place had been touched by something as dark and sinister as Shimasou. There were no signs that anything was wrong or out of place.

  ‘Stop here.’

  O’Neill applied the brakes, coming to a complete stop about fifteen feet further down the road from where Mayhew had indicated.

  ‘That’s it.’ He pointed towards one of the houses, and both men sat observing it for a moment before O’Neill broke the silence.

  ‘You might as well come with me, Todd. You know as much as I do, and you may spot something I miss.’ His admiration for Mayhew had grown considerably as he had spent more time with him, and he was disappointed to receive a cold stare in return, as Mayhew misunderstood his intent and took offence at the insinuation that he may not be going with Special Agent O’Neill.

  Both men got out of the car and walked down the pathway in tandem, Mayhew bringing up the rear. O’Neill walked faster than the old man, fearing the possibility of another crime scene and hoping that Mayhew did not misunderstand his intentions for a second time.

  He didn’t. He allowed O’Neill to take the lead. His knees knocked as he walked behind the Special Agent, and he didn’t want O’Neill to see his fear. Upon reaching the door of the house O’Neill turned to look at Mayhew. ‘Just let me do the talking, okay?’

  Mayhew glared at the cop once more. O’Neill turned and rang the doorbell without showing any recognition that he’d noticed the anger in the stare, and Mayhew decided to let this one go. Both stood silently, listening for footsteps from inside the house.

  Silence.

  O’Neill extended his hand to ring the bell for a second time.

  ‘Who’s there?’ The voice that came from inside held a frightened tone that was unmistakable.

  ‘Sandy, is that you? I’m from the FBI. We know what’s going on. We’ve come to help you beat this thing.’

  The door opened, and O’Neill realized instantly that this was not the woman whose face he had seen on the database printout. It must be Melissa.

  ‘You’re too late,’ Melissa said. She struggled to hold back tears as she spoke the words for a second time
, ‘Too late. She’s gone.’

  The repetition stung O’Neill. He felt it had taken them too long to get to Jones Beach. Maybe if they hadn’t gotten lost they would have reached her in time. Maybe if they hadn’t had to stop to buy the stupid map. But there was no time for recriminations.

  ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’ His voice contained a note of panic. Mayhew stepped out from behind him. ‘Does she have any other friends in the area?’

  O’Neill looked at Mayhew, then at Melissa.

  ‘No, I don’t know where she could have gone. All I know is that she came yesterday and told me she was run down. She didn’t bring any clothes and she was nervous about something. Woke up screaming in the middle of the night and frightened me half to death. When I got home from work she was gone. Taken off.’

  The two men looked at each other. Both could see the other’s disappointment and both wondered what they would do next.

  Melissa Dahlia continued, ‘She left this’, before holding out a piece of paper. ‘I don’t know what it means. Maybe you can tell me?’

  O’Neill took the folded paper from her extended hand and opened it. Both Mayhew and Melissa watched him as he looked at it, neither able to make out what he was thinking from his expression.

  It was obvious to O’Neill what the note implied. Sandy’s time was running out. But it was the other name on the note, Arnold, which made him think. It was safe to assume that it was the work of Shimasou. Its similarity to the notes that had been described to him was compelling. This was one of Shimasou’s calling cards. But the other name? Another target?

  This was actually good news to O’Neill. It gave him a lead, something to work with, and it tempered the feeling of disappointment that had arisen when he had been told of Sandy’s departure.

  ‘What does it say, Sam?’ Mayhew was impatient to see whatever it was that had made O’Neill so thoughtful. O’Neill held out the piece of paper for inspection, and Mayhew held one corner while he examined its contents. ‘Shit, who’s Arnold?’

  Melissa countered before O’Neill could answer. ‘Maybe you can fill me in on what’s going on here? What’s happened to my friend?’ They seemed more bothered about the other name on the paper, at least, the older man did.

  It was O’Neill who answered. ‘Listen, I’m sorry but we don’t have time to explain. We need to find them because they could be in danger. The time it would take for me to explain to you could mean the difference between life and death for them.’

  It would be difficult to find either of them though. While they had come close to finding Sandy they could be miles away from Arnold, and Shimasou could be heading towards him. They had to get moving again.

  ‘Can you tell me what kind of car she was driving?’

  ‘Yeah, it was a Toyota, dark brown, pretty old.’

  O’Neill looked at Todd Mayhew. Todd Mayhew looked at O’Neill.

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ Mayhew said, and both men turned and walked briskly away from Melissa towards O’Neill’s car.

  ‘Wait, what about me?’ Melissa called out after them as they got into the car. She didn’t receive a reply and the car drove away, quickly reaching the end of the road and turning out of Melissa’s sight.

  28

  O’Neill punched the dashboard of the car in frustration. ‘Fuck, I can’t believe it. I had an idea we mightn’t get here in time, but I didn’t expect her to run us off the road on the way. Why didn’t we follow her, Todd?’

  ‘We couldn’t have known it was her, Sam. We might have been wasting our time on a drunk-driver.’

  ‘We wouldn’t have been wasting our time at all though.’ O’Neill gripped the wheel tightly, the veins in his hands bulging under his skin.

  ‘Yeah, I know. But you can’t beat yourself up over it.’

  ‘What d’you mean, I can’t beat myself up over it? This fucking thing could be beating her up Todd. And we saw her. We should have realized. I should have realized. What are we gonna do now? How are we gonna find her?’

  Mayhew noted the anxiety and level of stress that was apparent in his expression and tone before replying. ‘We’re just gonna have to find her. Come on, at least we know which direction she was headed. That must be a help, mustn’t it?’ Mayhew was clutching at straws and he knew it. But he also knew that they couldn’t, and wouldn’t, give up. He felt they had a big part to play.

  ‘That doesn’t mean shit, and you know it. She could drive north and west straight through New Jersey and on to god knows where. How are we supposed to find the killer when we can’t find the targets?’

  ‘We can’t give up. We’ve gotta help these people if we want to help ourselves. They’re not far Sam, we’ll find them.’ Mayhew accepted the task of injecting the spirit back into O’Neill with newfound strength of his own. The cop nodded and both men fell silent, continuing onwards toward their date with the destiny of the planet.

  *

  Back inside the house, Melissa Dahlia decided to call Joe Myers. He was the only one who may be able to shed any light on what was happening. When Sandy had spoken to him earlier, she had said something about being in danger. Now, she thought he deserved to know that his wife was missing.

  She found Sandy’s number in her little blue address book, and recreated it on the pad of the cordless phone. It rang once, before Joe Myers snatched it up seventy kilometers away.

  ‘Hello.’ The anxiousness in his voice made the end of the word seem almost to come at the beginning; such was the speed of its delivery.

  ‘Joe. Hi, it’s Melissa.’

  ‘Melissa. Is everything okay? What’s happened?’ His words continued to overlap as he tried unsuccessfully to keep his composure.

  ‘No…I don’t know Joe. She’s not here. She was gone when I came home from work. Then two cops came and told me her life is in danger. What’s going on Joe? Why is Sandy in danger?’

  ‘Listen Melissa.’ Joe’s mind was made up. ‘Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming to Jones Beach. I’ll tell you what I know when I get there.’ The line went dead and Melissa stood, shocked and confused, holding the cordless in her hand for a full thirty seconds before placing it back on the stand without hearing the double beep that signified it was now on charge.

  All she could do now was wait. Maybe Joe would be able to help when he arrived. Maybe the cops would find Sandy first.

  Melissa began to pray for her friend. If the police were so anxious to find her then it really must be serious. She decided she would not make any judgments about what was going on. She would wait for Joe to arrive and see what he had to say.

  Things were never what you expected.

  *

  The walk around the lake had left Bill Arnold feeling a lot more comfortable. It had also left him ravenous. The steak house that he had seen on his way to the lake was harder to find on his way back, and dark clouds had begun to gather in the sky as he finally pushed through the door of Steer’s Steak House.

  He stepped into a large and very tastefully decorated dining room. He estimated about forty tables – each with oak chairs upholstered in dark green leather. To one end of the dining room hung ceiling to floor chartreuse curtains. On the walls were ribboned wreaths of flowers, and mirrors that reflected the light and made the room feel even bigger.

  Catching sight of himself in one of the mirrors, he almost turned and walked out of Steer’s.

  This place must be damn pricy, he thought, and I look like a hobo.

  There were only three couples in the restaurant, sitting towards the opposite end of the room. None of the six people had noticed his presence.

  A noise behind him made him turn, and he was met by a smiling and tuxedoed waiter.

  ‘Table for one sir?’ the pristinely dressed waiter asked him, and he mumbled an answer in the affirmative.

  The waiter directed him to a table, handing him a menu as he sat, and said, ‘You look like you could do with a beer’.

  ‘Sure could,’ Bill answered, ‘a Bud if you have
one.’

  He already felt more relaxed, and a quick scan of the menu told him he need not have feared the prices.

  When the waiter returned, with the Bud, he ordered a 20 oz. Porterhouse and relaxed, pushing any thoughts of fear out of his mind.

  He would enjoy his steak, and then he would settle down in a nice bar and sink several more Bud’s.

  Who knows, he thought to himself, maybe I’ll run into Joanne the Beautiful and buy her a drink.

  His surroundings were stunning, he had not met any bloodthirsty maniacs, and the terror he had arrived with had given way to a certain sense of calm.

  By the time the steak arrived, cooked to medium-rare perfection and surrounded by juicy onion rings, he was just about ready to forget the danger had ever existed at all.

  A second Bud washed the steak down perfectly.

  By the time he finished his meal, the other couples had left the steak house.

  ‘Say, can you direct me to a nice bar?’ he asked the waiter as he paid the bill.

  ‘Sure,’ the waiter replied, ‘I’ll write some directions down for you of a place that has Bud on draught.’

  This day is getting better all the time, he thought.

  Bill Arnold was a man who lived for now, not for the future. Although he knew this was a result of the negative things that had happened to him in the past, he found himself whistling as he left Steer’s, clutching the waiter’s neatly written directions, and walked into the beginning of the storm.

  But for Bill Arnold, this day was only going to get worse.

  29

  Sandy’s head ached. It felt as though she’d emptied the entire contents of a motel mini bar down her throat and was paying for it now. This was not true, of course. She hadn’t had a drop to drink for months; her life was too hectic. It was stress that caused her headache, which had almost become a migraine when she ran the other car off the road shortly after leaving Melissa’s house at Jones Beach.