Taboo

by Casey Hill

  Chris entered the kitchen, thinking about how he often complained about the boxy kitchen in his own apartment, but compared to this one, it was positively spacious. More like the galley on a boat, it was a narrow passageway with high cupboards and a tiny electric cooker on one side, a counter top on the other – but then you didn’t need much space in the kitchen when your diet mostly consisted of booze.

  Like the rest of the flat, the kitchen had been transformed. He thought about the last time he’d set foot in it a couple of days ago with Reilly he had almost been afraid to touch anything. But now it positively sparkled, all the surfaces cleaned, the cupboards wiped down, even the chrome on the taps polished.

  It did seem odd, but then again there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. He took out his phone and was about to call Reilly when a noise from behind startled him.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ A female voice called out and he turned to see a middle-aged lady standing there. A neighbor, he figured, judging by the set of keys she held in her hand.

  ‘I’m a friend of Mr Steel’s,’ he replied, thinking quickly. ‘Well, of his daughter’s actually and I was just—’

  ‘His daughter?’ The woman’s face softened somewhat. ‘Oh. I thought you might be a burglar,’ she added. Chris wondered if she made a habit of sneaking up on burglars and putting her life in danger instead of just calling the police. In this case, he was glad she hadn’t as he would have quite a bit of explaining to do.

  Chris put on his most reassuring smile. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Tell me, do you have any idea when Mike will be back? I’m assuming he asked you to keep an eye on the place.’

  Again, the woman’s face shuttered. ‘If you’re his daughter’s friend then you should know that, shouldn’t you?’

  ‘Actually—’ But before he could say anything more, Daniel appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Hello there, I’m Daniel Forrest, an old friend of Mike’s from California. Nice to meet you, Mrs …?’

  ‘Kelly,’ the woman replied, reluctantly taking his hand. Chris immediately understood that Forrest was trying to put her suspicions at ease by mentioning a shared history.

  ‘Mrs Kelly, I take it Mike has you to thank for his lovely clean home,’ he continued, laying on the charm.

  The woman blushed a little. ‘I thought I’d take the opportunity to give it a bit of a brush-up – have it nice for him when he comes home.’

  ‘Very nice of you – and a great job too. I must get you to look over my place sometime,’ Daniel joked. Mrs Kelly blushed and Chris began to suspect that Mike Steel had a fan in his helpful neighbor. Judging by her coquettish reaction to the attractive profiler, she wasn’t immune to other men’s charms either.

  ‘Yes, well, I’m sure he won’t even notice,’ she trilled. ‘You know what men can be like. But it’ll be nice for him when he gets back, although he didn’t actually say when she’d be bringing him back.’

  ‘She?’ Chris repeated.

  ‘Well, yes.’ Her expression changed to one of downright disapproval. ‘Now I know she’s a friend of yours, but really, I think that daughter of his could be doing a lot more than just swanning in when it suits her and deciding to take him away for a few days. What about all the other days when he needs someone to keep an eye on him?’

  Chris and Daniel exchanged glances.

  ‘How do you know this, Mrs Kelly?’ Chris asked. ‘That he’s gone away for a few days?’

  ‘Seems his daughter arranged some sort of break for the two of them, so I told him I’d keep an eye on the flat. I don’t think he realized that she’d arranged that too, with yourselves I mean.’

  ‘And did you happen to meet Mike’s daughter?’ Daniel asked, fishing for a possible description.

  ‘Well, I didn’t meet her as such,’ the woman replied. Reading between the lines, Chris knew that luckily for them, Mrs Kelly had been keeping a very close eye on Mike Steel. ‘I just caught of glimpse of her in the car before they left. It was the first time I’d seen sight or sound of this one actually, and was surprised because I didn’t think she looked a bit like him, very little resemblance really. Not like the other one.’

  Chris looked up quickly. ‘The other one?’

  ‘Yes, the older daughter – the one who works for the cops. Now she’s the spit of him whereas the younger one—’

  ‘Mrs Kelly, did Mike Steel tell you specifically that he was going away with his daughter?’

  Picking up on Chris’s urgency, she looked hesitant. ‘Well, no but … I thought you said …’

  ‘Thank you, you’ve been a great help,’ Daniel interjected, smoothly before guiding her toward the doorway. ‘I’m sure Mike will want to thank you too when he gets back.’

  As she left, Chris ran a hand through his hair, not knowing what to think.

  According to the neighbor, Steel had simply gone away for a few days with a relative, or at least someone he knew, which meant that there was nothing for Reilly to worry about. Yet, what was all this about a daughter?

  ‘What do you make of that?’ he asked Daniel, who’d come back into the room. ‘Sounds like he’s just taken off for a few days and Reilly’s got nothing to worry about.’

  The profiler looked thoughtful. ‘On the contrary, actually,’ he said, his tone grave.

  ‘What do you mean? You heard what she said: Steel took off with someone he knew, and not some deranged killer.’

  Forrest looked at him. ‘Someone he knew, yes. But if this person is who I suspect it is, then Reilly’s got a lot more to worry about than you or I can even imagine.’

  32

  Back at GFU headquarters, as Jack Gorman’s complaints about her activities in his absence (as well as the surprising revelation about Lucy) shifted in and out of focus, Reilly prayed that Chris would be able to locate Mike.

  That message – she knew in her bones that it referred to her and by association, her father. Daniel was right; the taboo killer was now openly targeting her and her family. But how did he know so much about her?

  To lose one parent is unfortunate …

  Her mind drifted back to that awful day, a day that at first had seemed little different to any other but would turn out to be one that would haunt their lives forever.

  By then, Reilly’s mother had been absent from their lives for many years; she and Jess had no idea where Cassie was or why she had gone. When they were little, they’d grown used to their mom’s erratic moods and sudden disappearances, but when one day Cassie left and didn’t return, it was as though everyone sensed that this time was different. Mike was saying nothing and in the intervening years the family seemed to have drawn a veil over the entire business.

  But as the sisters grew older, questions eventually began to rise in their minds – particularly Jess’s – and although Reilly never wanted to come out and actually ask their dad, she got the impression that their perpetually restless mother had gone off with another man.

  Ghosts – to say nothing of monsters – were hard to keep in closets and that year in particular her curious sister had become more and more inquisitive, and more demanding about why Cassie had come to abandon her family.

  ‘Let it go, Jess.’ Reilly had admonished, but she knew she was wasting her breath. When she got something into her head, Jess could be like a dog with a bone.

  One day, Reilly had been out driving her car – Mike had bought it for her eighteenth birthday and knowing how hard he’d worked to scrape the money together made it all the more special. It was just a little two door Mazda – a rice burner her dad called it – bright cherry red, but it was hers and she loved it.

  It was lunchtime, there wasn’t much traffic, and Reilly had slowed for a red light when she got a call from Jess.

  ‘Reilly? It’s me,’ her sister cried, her voice somewhat manic. ‘I’m at Mom’s house.’

  ‘Mom’s house? What?’ Reilly was stunned. ‘Jess, have you gone crazy? How did you … I mean, what … where…?’ Her thoughts
were going a mile a minute. Jess had located their mother? How and, more importantly, where?

  ‘I need you, Reilly. I need you to come here.’ There was something desperate in her voice, a sound Reilly hadn’t heard since she was a pre-schooler. ‘What? Come where? I don’t understand, Jess. Where are you?’

  ‘Reilly, I need you to come here right now.’ Jess’s voice had suddenly fallen flat, which somehow sounded even scarier than the frantic way she had started the conversation. Something was wrong. Of course, their mother had never been predictable; never your typical apple pie housewife, and Reilly suspected that the much-longed for reunion with Cassie had not gone as planned.

  ‘OK, honey, just calm down and tell me where you are. How do I get there?’

  She listened wide-eyed as Jess quickly rattled off directions to a place only about a mile away. Had Cassie remained living in the Bay area all this time? For some reason, Reilly had always assumed that she’d taken off somewhere back east, where she was from. So to think that for all these years she’d been nearby and yet never once made an effort to contact either of them … Yet, knowing Cassie, was it really that much of a surprise?

  She swung the car up the ramp and on to the freeway. How Jess had located her, Reilly had no idea – but as she well knew, when Jess set her mind on something, there was absolutely no way anyone could stop her.

  She sped down the freeway, her heart beating fast, unable to imagine what awaited her and more importantly what could have got Jess so upset. Clearly Cassie had no interest in reuniting with her daughters, or playing happy families.

  A little later, she navigated her way through some narrow suburban streets, finally pulling up outside the address Jess had given her. It was a pink stuccoed house, mission style, on a quiet residential street of similar properties.

  She paused in the car for a minute, trying to remain calm. Her mother – the woman who’d given birth to her, yet whom she hadn’t seen since she was eight – lived here? It looked so suburban, so normal, that she couldn’t quite get her head around it. Then again, what else did she expect?

  She jumped from the car, hurriedly locked it, then approached the porch, keeping an eye out for Jess. There was no sign of anyone outside, but the front door of the house was open.

  Reilly approached cautiously, something telling her that all was not right.

  She slowly climbed the wide steps to the porch. Like the other houses on the block it had a faded wooden swing seat, which moved very slightly in the gentle breeze. A small white side table sat beside it, two drinks on it. Both were half empty, the ice melted, a film of condensation running down the glasses to pool on the table.

  Reilly stepped slowly across it, the boards creaking beneath her feet. For some reason, the street seemed deathly quiet – no cars passed, no birds sang, no children called out. She reached the front door and paused. There was no doorbell.

  Reaching out to knock on the door, she realized that it was not fully closed and she gently touched it, swinging it open to reveal a pretty room with polished wooden floors and several brightly colored ethnic rugs. A large couch filled the centre of the room.

  And oh God, there it was. Her mother’s unique scent, so recognizable and achingly familiar, it almost made Reilly feel weak. Despite her best efforts, and having rummaged through her mother’s stuff many times over the years, she’d never been able to figure out what the fragrance was exactly; it wasn’t perfume and definitely not body cream. Floral and yet faintly spicy, to Reilly, it represented carefree summer days at the beach, and lazy family evenings in the garden – the peace of mind and happiness she’d always craved.

  She gingerly stepped inside and called out. ‘Hello? Anyone home?’

  There was no answer, no movement. From where Reilly stood it might have been deserted, abandoned. ‘Jess … Jess it’s me, Reilly.’

  The late afternoon light was forcing it way through the pale wooden blinds, casting long beams of yellow light across the room. As Reilly’s eyes gradually adjusted to the light, she saw, on the far side of the room, a dark trail of something smeared across the floor. There was a strong smell in the air, one that in the future she would come to know only too well.

  She stepped through the room, heart beating faster. All her senses were on edge, raw and open, though she didn’t understand why. A deep, almost primal instinct again screamed that something was very wrong. Wanting desperately to turn and flee, she moved slowly across the floor, her footsteps the only sound in the quiet house.

  Only worry for her sister, and the desperate pleading in Jess’s voice when she’d called, kept her moving forward.

  As Reilly reached the far side of the room, she saw with horror that the dark trail she was looking at was blood – a long, wide smear of it trailing across the room, leading her toward the kitchen. With rising horror, she realized that someone had dragged themselves, bleeding, across the floor.

  She paused, her heart in her mouth, not wanting to go further, yet knowing that she had to. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn around and run, call the cops and let them deal with whatever was in there. But she knew she couldn’t.

  Not while she thought that Jess was in there. Jess, her little sister, whom Reilly had spent most of her life looking after. She couldn’t quit now, even if she wanted to.

  The blood trail led into the kitchen and, heart pounding, Reilly slowly turned the corner, knowing deep down that what happened next would change her forever.

  There was a man lying face down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. He looked to have been stabbed – two or three times – and had dragged himself into the kitchen to try …

  Reilly put her hand up over her mouth, fighting back a horrified gasp and the same time an unbelievable urge to gag.

  On the far side of the kitchen lay their mother – still so recognizable even after all these years. She had the same soft face that haunted Reilly’s dreams, the same light blond hair framed her face.

  In those dreams she was always smiling down at Reilly, yet, today there was no smile. Instead, her mother’s face was twisted into a grotesque expression of horror, and a large kitchen knife was embedded in her stomach. She had bled profusely, her hands covered in blood where she’d held her stomach, trying to staunch the flow of life seeping out.

  She put a hand over her mouth, torn between shock and terror.

  Oh my God …

  ‘I knew you’d come.’

  Reilly jumped at Jess’s voice and then Jess herself gradually swam into focus. She was holding their mother’s head in her lap, gently stroking her hair. She looked up slowly, seeing Reilly standing in the doorway.

  ‘Christ, Jess, what’s happened?’ Her throat seemed to close over as she tried to find the right words, something, anything to say.

  Jess fixed her gaze on Reilly for a moment, before looking down again at their mother. ‘She’s at peace now,’ she said, finally. ‘She was so upset, so ashamed about what she had done.’ She continued stroking her mother’s hair, leaving a bloody streak across her forehead. Yet rather than seeming stunned or sad, the gesture struck Reilly as being eerie more than anything else.

  ‘Jess, I think we need to call the police—’

  ‘She was a whore, Reilly!’ Suddenly her sister’s face changed, her peaceful expression replaced by a snarl of almost animal-like ferocity. ‘Always leaving us, always abandoning us. She was a miserable, stinking whore – it was what she deserved!’

  ‘What?’

  It was as if all the walls had suddenly begun closing in on them. She stared in horror as Jess defiantly met her gaze as if daring her to contradict her. Jess … was she involved in this … somehow responsible for this? Reilly swallowed hard, as her brain struggled to take in what she was witnessing, unable to deal with the dark and dangerous animal her sister had suddenly become.

  Her first instinct was to try and calm things down, take control, be the big sister she’d always been. She took a fearful step clos
er, looking down at the blood on Jess’s hands. ‘Honey, what happened here today?’ she asked softly. ‘Are you OK?’

  Jess looked up at Reilly with a soft, almost beatific smile. ‘I’m fine – now,’ she replied, finally. She looked around the room and her gaze settled on the man. Almost like a switch being clicked her mood changed again and her face shuttered. ‘He got what he deserved,’ she snarled. Reilly stayed rooted to the spot, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to understand what on earth had taken place.

  Jess looked down again at their mother. ‘As did Mommy,’ she went on, continuing to smear blood across her forehead. She glanced up at Reilly, as if suddenly remembering something. ‘We won’t see her in heaven either; there’s no place up there for lying whores.’ Then she leaned down and kissed their mother’s bloody forehead. ‘You should say goodbye to her too now, Reilly, seeing as it’s the last time you’ll see her.’

  Reilly stood there, her shoulders heaving, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Jess, what have you done?’

  Jess gently set her mother down on the cold wooden floor and climbed to her feet. She examined the body, as though looking for defects, before finally reaching down and gently crossing Cassie’s hands across the gash in her stomach.

  Then, she padded lightly across the kitchen floor, and wrapped her blood-soaked arms around her sobbing sister. ‘It’s OK, Reilly,’ she murmured into Reilly’s ear. ‘I fixed it – now everything is OK.’

  33

  Having endured a thorough chewing-out from Gorman, most of which she didn’t hear, Reilly finally escaped from his office and immediately checked her cell messages.