The Sandman

by steve higgs

How many people had Tempest brought with him? However many it was, this was the best chance we were going to get.

  Terrifying roars came from all over the place, dark figures rushing the Sandman’s acolytes. I twisted the knife around, bringing it out from its hiding place. I was going to stab the men holding me and anyone else I could get to. Anything I could do to help had to be the right thing to do.

  Before I could do anything of the sort, a rough yank on my right arm pulled me off balance and the knife went flying away into the dark. The men holding me were running back to the house, hauling me along behind them. My feet were no longer under me and I could do nothing to arrest my motion.

  Then the craziest thing happened. Lights came on in the woods.

  Bright lights from torches so powerful it was painful to look at created shadows and silhouettes and a voice filled the night air.

  I needed only a heartbeat to work out what I was hearing. The police were here – Tempest brought them with him!

  Yet I was being dragged back inside the house and no one could get to me before they would have me inside.

  I saw Tempest lose his footing and fall right in front of me. To his right, my left as I looked out, Big Ben had already grabbed Jan. Joy swept through me seeing his rescue.

  I got a final look at Tempest’s face before the door slammed shut once more.

  The Sandman was gasping great lungfuls of air, his breathing out of control as if terror had gripped him.

  The woman slapped his face. Hard.

  The noise was loud like a gunshot in the quiet of the house. The Sandman reeled back, stunned by the blow.

  ‘You miserable failure!’ the woman screeched.

  She might have had more to say but the sound of a window smashing and something landing in the house stole the words away.

  The monks were looking around in confusion, waiting for orders though surely they realised there was no way out of this situation now.

  ‘Quick, get her to the basement,’ the woman snapped, her eyes flaring with anger when the men holding me failed to move instantly.

  Jolted into motion, they scooped me from the floor, but I thrashed against them. The knife was gone, but I wasn’t going back into that basement.

  Throwing my weight against one then throwing my head backward as the other followed me, I caught him on the bridge of his nose with a reverse headbutt. There was no technique or finesse involved, this was adrenalin and lack of options.

  The one I caught with my head fell away, clutching his face as blood exploded from his nose. The second one made a grab for me and was rewarded with a high kick to his midriff that took the wind from him.

  Snarling like a caged animal, I went to spin around to face the next attack but found myself gripped tightly from behind before I could.

  ‘For goodness sake,’ growled the Sandman’s wife, her mouth right next to my ear. ‘It’s just one little girl.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Tempest, stepping into the hallway.

  There was a cut to his head, a nasty one judging by the amount of blood coming down the side of his face.

  He saw me looking and wafted a dismissive hand at his wound. ‘I should have maybe protected my head when I dove through the window.’ Turning serious, he asked. ‘Are you all right, Jane?’

  In my girl voice I said. ‘I will be. Do you think I should tell them the truth?’

  ‘What truth?’ demanded the woman holding me. She was as tall as me, and surprisingly strong in a lean, wiry kind of way. However, pound for pound, men are always stronger.

  I planted my feet and switched to my normal voice. ‘There’s something important you don’t know about me, sweetie.’

  The woman gasped and her grip went slack. I drove backward off my feet jabbing my right elbow up and around. It would have been vastly easier without my hands tied together but the blow struck under her chin with enough force to send her crashing into the wall.

  She struck it with her head, a whimper escaping her lips as she slid down the wall to slump on the floor.

  ‘Valerie!’ cried the Sandman, darting forward to rescue his wife with a panicked look on his face.

  I stepped into his path, blocking his route. My breathing came heavy, but it was under control. To my left, Tempest was fighting the remaining acolytes and outside, the sound of the police putting down any last pockets of resistance filled me with the confidence I needed to finish the task.

  ‘What did you do?’ the Sandman raged, spittle dripping from his lips as his eyes bulged insanely. He wanted to get around me to reach his wife and I wasn’t going to let him. I could let the police tackle him. If I opened the door, they would be on him in seconds, but I wanted to do this for myself.

  Switching back to Jane voice, I showed him my teeth, pulling back my top lip in a snarl when I said, ‘I stopped a hideous monster.’

  Madness filled his eyes. ‘You’re not worthy of my song, you freak.’ He rushed me then, throwing himself at me bodily.

  I’m not a fighter, and I had to weigh fifty pounds less than him. Good thing I’d picked up a large wooden ornament from a shelf then.

  His lunge was uncontrolled and ill-thought presenting his head as an easy target. I brought the novelty carved owl upward in a two-handed swing that connected under his chin.

  Honestly, I wanted it to last longer. There was a primal need in me to rain down blow after blow in a cathartic release of pent-up rage.

  Yet the first blow felled him as surely as someone pressing the off switch.

  I got to do that because Tempest beat the crap out of the remaining two acolytes before they could get to me. I’d done something heroic. I’d beaten the Sandman and I felt a sense of relief that defied words.

  When Tempest pulled me into his arms and hugged me, I burst into tears.

  Tempest. Grey Hair. Saturday, December 24th 1648hrs

  Emerging from the house, we found ourselves surrounded by armed police. Mercifully, they recognised us for what we were and treated us as gently as they could when they dragged us to the side so they could swarm into the building.

  The scene in front of the house was one of relatively organised chaos. There were police everywhere and the noise from a helicopter high above was causing them to have to shout to be heard. The Sandman’s followers in the black robes had been rounded up and were in cuffs. Medics were attempting to resuscitate someone – it looked like another of the monks – but I was looking only for my friends and the other freed captives.

  Amanda spotted me and called out. Waving and shouting until she was sure she had my attention, she barged her way through the press of people to get to me.

  ‘Oh, goodness, Tempest, you’re bleeding,’ she gasped on seeing my face up close.

  ‘It’s just a small cut on my scalp.’ Actually I didn’t know how big it was and figured it might need stitches to close it. ‘Is everyone okay?’ I asked the only question I wanted an answer to.

  ‘We’re all fine,’ Amanda sobbed, a happy and relieved tear running down her cheek as she pulled Jane into a hug.

  Jan arrived then, embracing Jane, and staying that way as Amanda took my arm and we wandered away.

  Big Ben emerged from the dark with a monk’s robe over his left arm.

  ‘Is there a naked monk around here somewhere?’ I asked, unsure what was going on.

  Amanda sniggered.

  Big Ben adjusted his arms, producing a pair of underpants. With a grin he said, ‘Yup. I found Smiler and thought he might enjoy a little natural time.’

  Shaking my head, I said, ‘Ben you are so weird.’

  It was a moment of joviality at the end of a day that had been filled with awfulness and fear.

  ‘Weird?’ he scoffed. ‘I think you mean gorgeous, brave, and back in the game.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Amanda asked.

  Big Ben flicked his head to make his hair shimmy in the night sky. It was like watching a commercial.

  ‘I figured out why I kept s
triking out today,’ he claimed, looking around for something. When his eyes stopped roving, he said, ‘Ah, she’ll do.’

  Amanda growled grumpily. ‘Ben, you’ve been striking out because women don’t like being shagged and never called again. Trust me on this. We had a meeting; you’re not getting any more action. Ever.’

  He shot her a grin and waved his arm to attract a member of the tactical unit.

  ‘I’ve been striking out,’ he announced, ‘Because I had a grey hair. I used my phone to take a video of my strikingly beautiful face and spotted it at the front of my hair line.’

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at him. ‘Ben a single grey hair is not going to have any effect on whether a woman finds a man attractive.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Well, watch this. I had a grey hair and I’ve been striking out all day. I’ve plucked the grey hair …’ the cop in the tactical unit uniform arrived and we got to see that beneath the helmet and armour it was a woman.

  She unclipped her chinstrap and removed the helmet, shaking out her hair which fell in lustrous locks, cascading over her shoulder to frame olive skin and full, pouting lips.

  Ben said, ‘Hey, babe, that was exciting. How about you and I go somewhere and get to know each other?’

  Amanda and I were both silent, waiting for her to slap his face or make a disgusted noise and wander off.

  She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him away.

  Amanda’s jaw dropped open. I nudged it shut again with a gentle finger and held her to me.

  Tempest. Doing Something I Probably Shouldn’t. Saturday, December 24th 1715hrs

  Big Ben caught up with us as we were wandering back down toward the carpark. We had to pass the bunker to get there and saw the police bringing out the Sandman’s men. I didn’t know if we had them all or not, I figured the police would work that out, but I wasn’t going to put any thought to it now.

  ‘Feeling better?’ I asked my oversized friend.

  ‘Much better, thank you.’

  Amanda made a disgusted noise but kept her comments to herself.

  Basic was playing his Gameboy.

  Getting closer to the carpark that led into the park, I could see lights ahead. To start with, I figured it had to be a mobile headquarters set up to manage the incident but when we came through the last of the trees, I could see news vans.

  Quinn, it turned out was already holding a press conference. Unwilling to risk the press being able to discover the truth, he was giving them his version of events as swiftly as he could. They would run the headlines and have his story out in the morning. Serial killers were worthy of the national and international news. If a different version of events came out afterwards, it would be far too late for the press to change what had already been written.

  They could print a retraction, yes, but would they? They would have a juicy story that sold copies of their paper or got folks to watch their channel.

  Ahead of us was a large marquee, and inside it was a raised platform and several rows of chairs. Coming into the marquee, we were stopped by a pair of uniformed officers.

  ‘We have orders to deny you entry, Mr Michaels,’ one said.

  Amanda leaned in to get his attention. ‘Are you kidding me, Mark? Quinn is up there lying his butt off. You have to let Tempest in.’

  Mark shook his head and did not look likely to be swayed. ‘The chief inspector would have my job.’

  Amanda was going to argue, but I touched her arm. ‘Let’s just watch from here for a moment, shall we?’ I made it sound like we were going to behave, but I didn’t move away, even though that was what the cops wanted me to do.

  Watching the press conference and looking around the marquee, I was impressed at how quickly it had all been arranged. There were several senior-looking police officers in front of the lines of press where they sat on a raised platform looking down.

  How apt for the chief inspector to want to look down at people.

  ‘Who is that?’ I asked, my question aimed at Amanda. I was pointing my arm so she would know who I was talking about.

  ‘That’s the chief constable for Kent,’ she told me.

  Not only had Quinn been able to assemble all this in a record time, but he was able to gather his bosses to the scene to impress them as well. He had to have called them in advance and had them primed …

  ‘He knew this was happening.’ I voiced my thoughts for my friends to hear. ‘They got here so quickly.’ Spinning around to face Amanda, Big Ben, Jane, Jan, and Basic, I let my thoughts spill words from my mouth. ‘Think about it. How did he know where to send the cavalry? How long was it between parking Jagjit’s car and arriving at the house? Thirty minutes? Less? It couldn’t be much more than that and that’s not long enough to get people anywhere.’

  ‘He was following us,’ Amanda concluded, probably remembering some of his tricks from when she worked under his command.

  I listened to him for a few seconds. That Quinn would give us no credit was a foregone conclusion, but he had the nerve to sell our discoveries as his own.

  Quinn hadn’t seen me yet; we were in the dark just outside the marquee. ‘What I can tell you for sure is that his reign of terror is over. We have apprehended thirty-three suspects, all of whom are involved in the murder of an as yet unconfirmed number of women over a thirty-year period.’

  ‘How many women, Chief Inspector?’ called a man’s voice.

  Quinn bowed his head and looked distraught for a moment. He was lapping up the attention before giving his answer. ‘As I said, we cannot yet release the number, but it is believed to be more than twenty. It started with his wife who I believe he murdered in the early eighties.’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’ I shouted loud enough to be heard.

  The crowd of reporters swung their attention my way.

  I was about to confront Quinn and I had a pretty good idea for how it was going to go.

  A murmur from the press, quickly became a buzz as word spread. They had recognised me and wanted to know what I was doing here.

  Quinn chose to ignore my outburst and was attempting to continue with what he had been saying. The press were no longer listening though. They were asking me questions instead.

  They were yet to leave their seats and come my way, but their cameras were pointing at me now and I could see one or two starting to get to their feet.

  Smiling at Mark, the cop who didn’t want to let me in, I said, ‘You can let me pass, or I can take your boss’s press with me. It’s your choice, big fella.’

  He wasn’t going to give me an answer or make a decision, and I was going in regardless. Before setting off, I turned inward to Amanda and placed a kiss on her lips.

  ‘I’ve been struggling to know what to get you for Christmas. I finally worked it out.’ From my pocket I produced the keys for the Lotus. ‘I didn’t get a chance to gift wrap it, sorry. And it’s stuck in the police impound. When you get it though, it’s yours.’ I kissed her again and hustled away to do what I probably should have done a long time ago.

  The press had been throwing questions at me ever since I called Ian Quinn a liar and I had ignored them while I talked to Amanda.

  Now it was time to address them. ‘Ramsey Mitchell, or the Sandman as Chief Inspector Quinn wants you to call him, is not the serial killer behind the murders.’

  My statement caused an explosion of questions.

  Standing just behind Quinn, the chief constable twitched as if given an electric shock. He tapped Quinn on the arm and whispered something only the two of them could hear.

  Quinn’s cheeks coloured but his hate-filled eyes never lost contact with mine.

  The questions from the press kept coming but I never once looked the reporters’ way. My blood was boiling and there was only one possible way this could end now.

  Striding forward, all sense left far behind me, I raised an accusing finger at Chief Inspector Quinn.

  ‘You put me in a cell. You put my whole team in cells last night and y
ou did it at the risk of two people’s lives.’

  Quinn scoffed, ‘You broke into a house.’

  My voice got even louder. ‘I broke into the house of a serial killer you refused to investigate!’

  The tone of the reporters’ questions changed. They wanted to know more about my claims.

  ‘You endangered lives and broke into my office so you could steal the research my team had worked on to catch a man you denied could even exist. We were scrambling to avert a murder and you hampered us at every turn because you couldn’t stand to see me solve the case first.’

  ‘The apprehension of criminals is the job of the police, Mr Michaels. You insist on breaking the law and jeopardising police investigations with your cowboy attitude and haphazard techniques.’

  ‘You insist on claiming victory for the battles others have won. You didn’t solve this case, Ian. Remember when I said you would wish you had chosen to do the right thing? Well, this is where that starts. There will be an investigation after tonight, the press will insist upon it. The greatest credit for solving this case and exposing the Sandman goes to Jane Butterworth.’ I pointed to the marquee’s entrance. ‘Take a bow, Jane.’ She waved and looked embarrassed. Turning back to face Quinn again, I chuckled at him. ‘You lack the common decency most humans possess. Why don’t you take this opportunity to thank Jane for her involvement?’

  Quinn shuffled his notes and attempted to ignore my suggestion. ‘I think we should get back to the meat of this press conference.’

  He was instantly bombarded by questions about the Blue Moon team’s involvement. I waited until someone asked the question I hoped to hear.

  ‘Who is Jane Butterworth, Chief Inspector?’

  I pounced. ‘Yes, Chief Inspector. Who indeed? Will you address her as Jane?’

  ‘No, I will not!’ he snapped. ‘He is a man in a woman’s dress.’

  I nodded my head. ‘Well done, Chief Inspector. You just attacked the entire LGBTQ community live on television. That should put the brakes on your career.’

  Quinn forced out a raucous guffaw, tipping his head back to let his laughter fill the air. When it rocked back to level, I punched him in the mouth.