‘I have to think I might be,’ said Dave. ‘Stephen? Am I a policeman?’
‘Yes, you are. You are a detective.’
‘Why didn’t you say so before?’ said Dave.
‘I didn’t remember,’ said Stephen.
‘May I ask who you talk to?’ said Betty.
‘Can’t you hear Stephen?’ said Dave.
‘No, I think only you can.’
‘He must be behind me. Stephen? Can you shout over to Betty?’
There was silence.
‘Stephen?’
Dave hoped that Stephen was alright. He seemed to only talk now and then. He must be fazing in and out of sleep, or unconsciousness. He needed to escape too.
‘I think Stephen is sleeping now,’ said Dave.
‘Do you know who he is?’ asked Betty.
‘He’s my brother,’ said Dave. ‘I thought he was dead. It turns out he was taken by our captor. He has been here a long time.’
‘Right,’ said Betty. ‘I can see that you need him.’
‘I’m not going anywhere without him. If we escape, he’s coming. I’m not sure where he is hidden. He thought we were in a cell. We’ll find him.’
‘I think we should maybe focus on ourselves first and come back later for Stephen.’
Dave didn’t reply. It was clear that Betty thought of herself first. Of course she was a priority, she was in need of medical attention. It didn’t matter. There was no plan as yet. Dave struggled against his ropes. There was no give.
Dave had an image of a woman in his head. She was beautiful. He could see her laughing. Was she his girlfriend? His wife?
He saw them sitting in a cafe together. He saw them talking. What were they saying?
Then he remembered. She was Shirley. She was his sergeant and she certainly wasn’t his girlfriend even though he’d like her to be.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Dave McDonald,’ said Dave.
‘Are you?’ said Betty.
She sounded weary.
‘Betty keep going, I know it’s hard but we’re going to get you out of here,’ said Dave.
‘I’m not sure. One minute you’re in the army, the next you’re a policeman. I don’t know what you are.’
‘I was in the army. I was in the army a long time ago. When I left I became a police officer. I’m 42 years old. Why is it so easy now to know that?’
‘Maybe you’re coming out of the concussion,’ said Betty.
‘But Stephen,’ said Dave. ‘I was young when he died. He has been here a long time.’
Betty sighed.
‘I told you I’d been here a very long time,’ said Stephen.
‘Twenty years,’ said Dave.
‘You think about that,’ said Betty. ‘Our killer is only a youngster himself. He’s full of acne. He’s probably younger than my grandson.’
It didn’t make sense. Dave tried to work out how Stephen had been here so long.
‘Stephen?’ said Dave.
‘Stephen isn’t real,’ said Betty. ‘You’re wasting time. We need to get out of here. Don’t you have a radio to call the station? Isn’t there anything you can do? He’ll be back soon, I know he will. He might check my body, if he finds out I’m alive, he’ll kill me.’
Dave shook at his ropes again.
‘Betty is there any way you can move closer to me? Can you crawl?’
Dave could hear Betty struggling to move, breathing heavily.
‘Come towards my voice,’ he said.
Her breathing was hard but he heard movement, dragging movement.
‘Hup, two, three, four,’ he said.
‘Don’t push her too hard,’ said Stephen. ‘She needs to do it in her own time.’
‘Plenty of time,’ said Dave. ‘If I hear a sound I’ll let you know.’
As he said it, a train rushed past.
Betty screamed.
‘It’s only a train, it isn’t his car,’ said Dave.
He heard her move.
‘I’m here,’ said Dave. ‘Move towards my voice.’
Betty screamed again.
‘What’s that?’ she said. ‘I can feel meat. It smells like meat.’
‘Come away from the meat,’ said Dave.
He knew what that smell was.
‘Oh my Lord, Jesus! It’s a hand! I feel a hand,’ she said.
‘Please Betty, don’t think about that now.’
He heard retching.
‘Betty please, move towards my voice.’
She moved. He heard her faster now. She was moaning slightly.
‘I know it’s painful, but we can fix that later. Focus on my voice. Forget the pain.’
She moved again. He could hear she was dragging herself with her elbows along the ground.
‘I think I’ll die trying,’ she said.
‘No you won’t. We’ll get you medical attention as soon as we get out of here. Come on, hup two three four. You can do it.’
Betty made a growling sound. He could tell she was focussed. Please God, he prayed. Then he felt her. Her hand met his foot.
‘Oh no!’ she said.
‘No, it’s OK, it’s me,’ he said.
‘Thank God, thank God,’ she said.
She cried and Dave looked over at the door, straining to hear a car or the shutters. He heard nothing.
‘I think we need to be fast,’ he said. ‘We don’t know where Richie has gone.’
Betty felt his feet.
‘These ties won’t come off without a wire cutter or something,’ she said.
‘What about my blindfold?’ he said. ‘Can you reach it?’
Betty climbed up his body, holding onto the rope. She felt for his face.
‘I’ve found it,’ she said. ‘It might pull off.
As she pulled it, he felt the skin around his wound ripped off. He let the pain ripple inside him without showing an outward sign. He blinked. It was dark but he could make out the shapes of things. Betty put her head on his shoulder. He could tell she was exhausted. He was surprised she had got this far.
‘How old are you Betty?’ he asked.
‘Oh, let’s just say I remember the war,’ she said.
Dave shook his head in anger. This man was evil. He was picking out the weak and vulnerable. For what? For some bizarre idea that the elderly were to blame for his mother dying young.
‘I don’t care what happened to his mother. He’s a killer. I’m going to try and be rational, try and say I’ll get him to prison. But if I get the chance, it wouldn’t be far off to say it was self-defence to have killed him.’
‘That’s the Lord’s job,’ said Betty.
Dave sighed. Look where a belief in God had got Betty. He wasn’t a believer. If there was a God in the sky up there, he didn’t care much for his creation. He remembered his prayer earlier. It just showed how indoctrinated he had been. Prayer to a higher being in the hope of living.
‘We might not have long,’ said Dave. ‘And we still need to find Stephen. Can you untie the rope?’
‘I will certainly try young man. My hands are not much good. I’ve got terrible arthritis.’
Dave saw how gnarled her hands were. He could see they were not the same shape as his, bent and swollen.
‘Please try,’ he said. ‘It’s our only chance.’
She found the ends of the rope.
‘It’s tied very tight,’ she said. ‘Lots of knots,’
‘Anything you can do to loosen them will help, then I can do my magician trick.’
She laughed but only to humour him. He thought of magicians sawing bodies in half and realised it was a sick joke really. Betty had touched the bodies of Richie’s victims. She knew what was in store if he arrived back. Dave listened for cars. He heard a pigeon cooing outside. It made him want to see the outside world again.
‘Please,’ he said.
‘I’ve still got my old teeth,’ said Betty. ‘I’m going to lose them now.’
She bit into the rope. He
tried not to move while she struggled.
‘There,’ she said. ‘I’ve done one knot.’
Dave shrugged his shoulders. A rope at the top came off.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s working.’
It was still tight around his wrists but he was free of the pillar.
‘High five!’ he said.
Betty patted his hand.
‘I don’t know how I’ll get that one off,’ she said.
‘It’s OK,’ said Dave.
He kneeled. His feet were tied together and his wrists were tied behind his back. He had seen criminals tied like this. He had seen them move and he had seen them try to escape. He jumped to his feet. He moaned in pain. Pins and needles spread through his body, and cramp through his legs.
‘Ah!’ he cried.
But he jumped up and down. The sensation was coming back in his legs and arms. He looked around him. How could he untie himself?
He jumped across the floor to where Richie had been. There must be something. He saw a tool box.
‘Betty,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve found tools.’
There was a saw lying on a table. Could he saw himself free? He leaned his wrists against the saw. He rubbed them up and down. It cut his skin but he didn’t care. This was urgent, no time to be careful. The rope frayed, then came loose.
His actions became quick then. In the dark, it was hard to see what was in there. He found pliers. He cut his ankles free. He rubbed at the skin. He did a star jump to see how he felt. He thought he could do this. He could kill this guy. He looked through the toolbox then took the whole thing. He went to go to the door, to see if he could open it. As he did, he fell. It felt like he hit a tyre but the car was parked a metre away. He could see the shape of it.
He felt the object he fell into.
‘The wheelchair,’ he said.
‘My wheelchair?’ said Betty.’ Did you find it?’
Dave picked it up. He tried to push it but it wouldn’t move.
‘How do you move this thing?’ he said.
‘There’s a button to turn it to manual,’ said Betty. ‘Somewhere on the side.’
Dave found it. He rushed the wheelchair over to Betty and helped her sit in it. She leaned back.
‘Still got my cushion,’ she said.
Her eyes grew heavy.
‘No need to fight tiredness now, Betty,’ said Dave. ‘I’ll get you out of here.’
Betty’s eyes closed. Dave was glad she breathed so loudly. At least he knew she was alive.
‘Stephen?’ he called.
There was no answer.
He began feeling around the garage for Stephen. As he stumbled around the back, he found two bodies. He checked them. They were cold and long dead. A man and a woman. Both Betty’s age.
It came back to him. The investigation. Shirley found the killer on the CCTV. They were going to find the white van. But the car wasn’t a white van. He went towards it. It was a car, he knew that. Perhaps Stephen was inside. When he got closer, he saw it was a sports car. It was locked.
‘Stephen,’ he called. He knocked on the window. He peered inside. He couldn’t see anyone.
‘Stephen,’ he called.
‘You’ve got to get her out, now,’ said Stephen.
Where was his voice coming from? He looked up at the ceiling but it couldn’t be there. Stephen was right. There was no time to waste. Dave went back to Betty. He pushed the wheelchair along the side of the car, towards the door. If he could just open the door, he could find someone, get them to call into the station. They needed to get out before Richie came back.
Dave rested the wheelchair just by the door so that when he opened it they could escape together. He went towards the side, to see how the shutters open. As he struggled in the dim light, he heard a car arrive.
Chapter 9
I pull up the door of the garage. I see something. The wheelchair. I didn’t leave it there. I move closer. There’s the dead woman sitting up as if nothing had happened. Her face looks battered and purple. She looks like she’s dead. This is something from a horror film. She’s a zombie coming towards me. I drop the chips. They fall and my goddam chips are everywhere. This is that shitting old woman’s fault. I’m going to finish her off. I pick up my hammer.
She looks horrified. Her mouth is open. She’s got nasty old teeth. I’m going to knock them out first.
Then she screams.
‘He’s got a hammer!’ she says.
‘No one can hear you,’ I say.
She looks behind me. I look round. Behind me are the chips. I’m annoyed about that.
‘I can’t have my fucking dinner now,’ I say.
I’m not going back there. It would seem too strange.
I walk slowly towards the wheelchair. How the hell did she get back in there? The shitting policeman must have done it. Where is he?
‘Policeman! Where are you?’ I call.
I’m not too loud. We’re outside now. Anyone could come down here.
‘Has he gone for help?’ I ask. ‘Has he gone and left you all alone?’
‘Yes,’ she says.
She looks scared. She’s lying. The shitting old bitch is lying. Right, so he’s here. I turn round in a circle looking for him. Bad move. He comes from behind me. Throws all his weight on me and I go flying. I’ve fallen into my chips. I’ve squashed my fish. Fucking fish and chips all over me. I smell the vinegar. But I’ve still got my hammer.
I turn and swing the hammer. It hits his leg, hard. He cries out.
‘You’re under arrest,’ he says.
Now I’m cracking up laughing. Here’s me with a fucking hammer and he’s trying to arrest me. He’s limping away. Dickhead doesn’t know what he’s doing. Where’s he going? While he’s limping off I’m going to kill the old lady. I get up, shake off the chips. I take my hammer and run to the woman.
The policeman’s running now, or trying to. I can hear him. He’ll get another hammer in the head. I’ll finish the old woman first though. She looks nice and terrified. That’s good. It’ll be a painful death for her. That’s what she needs. I pick up the hammer, way above my head, I’m ready to finish her off.
The policeman grabs my hand. He’s trying to take my hammer. He won’t get it. I hold on fast. I grip the wooden handle, who cares about splinters, I’m going to kill them both.
The policeman grabs my neck. It fucking hurts. He’s going to break my fucking neck.
‘You can’t kill me,’ I say. ‘Don’t kill me.’
‘Let go of the hammer,’ he says.
I’ve got no choice. It’s life or death. I let go of the hammer. He grabs it. He’s going to kill me anyway. He swings the hammer right at me. I put up my arms. I hide my face. He hits me but I’ve protected my head. It still hurts. That hammer really hurts. My arm is killing. I need to get up. I need to fight him.
He’s got the old woman. He’s taking her to the hire car. Shit, I dropped the keys. I dropped the keys with the chips. He’s got them. He won’t get the wheelchair in there. I had to tip the other old woman out of hers. He’s lifting her out. He’s putting her in the passenger seat. I get up. I’m hurting. I’m staggering like one of them old biddies. He waves the hammer at me. He’s going to hit me again. I fall to the ground. I cover my head. He’s running round to the driver’s seat. This is my chance. I get up. I walk towards the passenger door. I’ll drag her out. I’ll at least get her.
I hear the engine. I hear the car. He’s coming towards me. He’s going to run me over. I run. I run to the garage. I run inside and hide. I hear the car drive off.
This is a bad situation. The police will be looking for me. They’ll be here in minutes. I jump in the sports car. No time to hide the bodies. I’m going to chase him. I’ll find the hire car. I’ll crash him. It’s my only chance.
It’s fast. The car is fast. I rev it up and set off. I drive down to the main street. He has to be here. The traffic is busy. He had to have gone this way. I’m too late. I’m t
oo pissing late. Now the government will know that I know. She’ll tell them. The shitting old biddy will tell everyone that I’m here. Now I’m on the run. The only good thing is that they don’t know about the warehouse. Except I bought it with the same credit card. Shit. The same credit card as I got the warehouse from. I’m an idiot. A stupid idiot. How I thought I could out run the conspiracy I don’t know. It’s been going on for so long. I thought I’d got it right. I made a big mistake not killing the policeman. Just because you’re young, it doesn’t make you innocent. I bash the steering wheel. I’m scared. They’ll make me go mad just like Mum. They’ll make me kill myself.
Then I hear a siren whirling behind me. They are onto me. I stop the car and get out. I start running through estates. It won’t be long. The police are everywhere in this area. I need a car. I’d kill for a car. Old or young, doesn’t matter anymore. Everyone is against me. I’ll kill everyone I see.
I look at the cars parked along the roadside. There’s often people in them. I need one with keys. I haven’t kept up my car theft skills. I walk along, looking. There’s one.
There’s a woman in the passenger seat. There’s children in the back. I knock on the window and see her jump. She’s scared. I haven’t got time to negotiate. I get a brick from a garden. I smash the window.
‘Give me the keys,’ I say.
‘OK,’ she says.
They are in her hand. She hands them to me. She tries to get out.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ I say.
‘Kids,’ she says. ‘Get out, get out.’
The door opens and the children get out. I put the key in the ignition. I turn it and it rumbles into life. The passenger door is open, she is trying to escape. I lean over her. I shut the door.
‘Do what I say,’ I say.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she says.
I don’t say anything. What is there to say? We’re going to my warehouse, quick as. I’ll kill the old people, kill her. Then I’m off to a new venue. Don’t know where, don’t know how. This is serious. I need to drop everything and run.
I’m driving and keeping an eye on the woman. She gets her phone out. Think I wouldn’t notice that?
‘Put the phone down,’ I say.
She’s dialling 999.
‘Throw the phone out of the window or I crash us both, right now.’
Only the Good Die Young Page 7
