The Strangler's Daughter

by Amy Cross

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ten years ago

  The house is absolutely dark and quiet as I stare up at my bedroom ceiling. I haven't managed to get to sleep yet, and I don't know that I ever will again. I'm just staring at the shadows as I think back to those final moments with Mum. She said she had a headache, but she gave no other indication that she was feeling poorly.

  And now she's gone.

  I hear a faint creaking sound out on the landing. I look over to my bedroom door, just as I hear another creak, and I realize that Dad's not managing to sleep either. I listen as he heads downstairs, but I quickly decide that there's no point going to join him. I don't know what's going through his mind, and I know I wouldn't be very good at helping him feel better.

  There's something wrong with me. I know that. I'm not good at understanding other people or at reacting to things the way other people would.

  And I know why.

  After a few seconds, however, I sit up in bed. I can already see myself in the mirror that stands on my dresser. Moonlight is filling the room, and I'm bathed in blue as I carefully climb out of bed and make my way over to the dresser, where my hairdryer is resting. I don't want to wake Dad and make him worry, so I'm careful to stay silent as I sit down and take the hairdryer in my hands. I take a deep breath, and then I take the power cord and start slowly wrapping it around my neck until it's tight.

  Still staring at my moonlit face, I realize that for the first time tonight I actually feel calm. My thoughts are no longer racing and I can actually feel my mind starting to slow down. I feel normal. And when I reach up and start slowly tightening the cord around my neck, I start to feel even more normal. In fact, the tighter the cord becomes, the more normal I feel. All the while, the moonlight is making my face look completely blue, just like I must have looked when I was a baby and I was first born. I pull tighter and tighter. Most people would feel uncomfortable now, but I feel totally relaxed and peaceful, and I pull and I pull until I can't pull anymore, and I let go of the cord.

  The plug is dangling around my neck like the stone in a necklace, and I feel so much better. This must be what it was like when I was just a baby.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Today

  After gently easing the front door open, I stop and listen to the silence of the house. My only hope is that Dad came back and went straight to bed, that he simply assumed I was asleep. That has to at least be possible, and – as I look through into the hallway – I see that all the downstairs lights are off.

  Okay.

  That's a good sign.

  I close the door very carefully and very quietly. On the way here, I slowed down a little, figuring that I should give Dad time to get home and have a cup of tea before bed. While I was walking, the plan seemed crazy, but I'm starting to think now that it might actually have worked. I sneak to the door that leads into the front room, and when I look through I'm relieved to see that there's no sign of Dad waiting for me in the dark. I check the kitchen, and he's not there either.

  Returning to the hallway, I stop and listen. There's no sound coming from Dad's bedroom, or from the bathroom, so I'm starting to think that maybe I've been lucky. He came home and went to bed, and as far as he's concerned I've been asleep for ages.

  I make my way quietly upstairs, and then I slip into my bedroom. I briefly consider switching on the light, before realizing that I really shouldn't make any unnecessary noise.

  And then, with no warning, my bedside lamp flickers to life.

  “Hey, Lisa,” Dad says.

  Startled, I step back and bump against the door.

  “I was getting worried,” he says, sitting on the end of my bed and looking up at me. “You told me you'd be staying at home tonight, like you always do. I'm not angry that you weren't here when I got back, but I have to ask, where have you been?”

  “Out,” I stammer, although my mind is racing and I don't have any excuses lined up.

  “Out where?”

  “Walking.”

  “Walking where?”

  I try to think.

  “The fields.”

  “The fields?”

  “I went to see the cows,” I tell him, as I remember the cows in the field down near the ancient highway. At least that's in the opposite direction to where Dad went tonight.

  “You went for a walk in the dark, to see some cows?”

  “Not specifically to see them,” I continue, trying my best to seem calm, “I just went for a wander. And when I realized I was down that way, I figured I'd go and see them.”

  “And did you see them?”

  “No,” I reply, “it was too dark.”

  That's a good answer. It would be too dark down there, and for all I know the cows are taken somewhere else each night. I have no idea how farming works.

  “You should have left a note,” he says calmly.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd be out that long,” I tell him. “I really just went for a walk around the block, and then it was so nice with all the stars out, so I kept on walking. I lost track of time.”

  He stares at me, as if he's expecting me to keep talking.

  “Well,” he says, as he gets to his feet, “as long as you're okay, that's the main thing. I'm sure you can understand why I was worried. I got home and saw that your coat was missing, and then I came up and knocked and... Well, I know you're a capable young woman, but I still didn't like thinking about you being out there all alone.”

  He steps past me and heads out onto the landing, before turning to me again.

  “Were you scared?” he asks.

  “Scared?” I pause. “Of what?”

  “Just being out by yourself. You don't do it very often, especially at night.” He pauses. “I was just wondering if that's why you went out tonight. To test yourself. Maybe even scare yourself a little.”

  “I suppose so,” I reply. “Maybe. I don't know.”

  He reaches into the room and grabs the door handle.

  “Goodnight, Lisa,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “I had a good time today, going to the museum with you and cooking and all of that. We should have days like this more often.”

  “Yes,” I reply. “We should.”

  He pulls the door shut, and I'm left standing alone next to my bed. Is it possible that this is all some big mistake, and that he doesn't actually think I was following him tonight? If he thought that, wouldn't he have asked me directly?

  I sit down on the end of the bed and put my head in my hands, but I'm starting to realize that I might have made a huge mistake. Dad was having fun with Caitlin tonight, and he probably just wanted to walk her home, like a gentleman. Of course, people today can get offended so easily, so he probably preferred not to actually offer to go with her. Instead, he held back and watched as she made it all the way to her door. There's nothing wrong with any of that. In fact, it makes Dad seem like a really good person.

  And when he seemed like he was sneaking up behind her, he was probably just going to offer to help her look for her key. She found it, though, so he stepped back into the shadows.

  I'm such a bad daughter for assuming the worst, and I briefly consider going out to the landing and knocking on his door so that I can apologize. Then again, I suppose that would just make things seem more awkward, and it'd be tantamount to confessing that I was following him. If there's even a chance of him not finding out about that, I figure I should keep my mouth shut.

  I fall back against the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I'm wide awake, and slowly I turn and look over at my laptop. I need to see a film, to help calm my mind before I even attempt to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ten years ago

  “The funeral will be a week on Monday,” Dad explains, as we sit at the breakfast table, “and that's going to be a whole lot of hassle, but we'll get through it. You'll have to be brave for that, Lisa.”

  “I'll be brave,” I tell him. “You don't have to worry about me.”


  “A lot of people will be there,” he continues, “and they'll all think that they know what to say to make you feel better. It's very nice of them, but really all you need to do is smile and nod and say thank you. That's what they want, and it's just the quickest way to get through the whole ordeal. Don't over-complicate things.”

  “I won't.”

  “Nothing is going to feel very normal until then,” he explains. “Life's going to be quite up in the air, but we'll figure it all out. If you have any questions, just ask me, okay. And if anyone asks what your mother died of, what do you say?”

  “She had an aneurysm,” I reply, having taken care to remember that word.

  “And don't mention the argument, okay?”

  “What if people ask why we were at a hotel?”

  “Tell them...”

  He hesitates, as if he's struggling to come up with an answer.

  “Tell them she was just visiting a friend,” he says. “Don't worry, they won't push too much. They'll be respectful. I just don't want people gossiping, and I don't want them knowing that your mother and I had harsh words right before she died. If that kind of thing got out...”

  He hesitates, as if he hopes that I understand.

  “I won't tell anyone,” I say cautiously.

  “People talk, that's all,” he continues. “They start imagining things that aren't real, but then gossip spreads and before you know it, all sorts of tall stories are being shared around.”

  “I get it,” I say, which is sort of true. “Was Mum leaving you?”

  I wait, but now I'm regretting the fact that I said anything. I want to take it back, but I know that I'm too late for that, and now Dad's staring at me with a strange expression on his face. He seems calm, but I swear I can feel the anger reaching out from his mind.

  “No,” he says, “of course not. What makes you even think that?”

  “The fact that she took me to a hotel,” I reply. “You guys have always argued, but this time -”

  “This time was nothing,” he says. “Do you want to know what we were arguing about? She was telling me that I snore too much. That's all. I know it sounds crazy, but she decided to go and stay at a hotel so she could get a good night's sleep. And I guess she decided to take you along because, well, she wanted you to sleep well too. Really, it's as simple as that.”

  I think about this explanation for a few seconds. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but at the same time I know that Dad would never lie to me. And I guess it's possible that Mum might have overreacted a little. It can be pretty annoying when someone keeps you awake.

  “You're a good girl, Lisa,” he replies. “Now, do you have any questions before I go and make a few phone calls?”

  I do have one question, but I'm worried that by saying it out loud I might sound stupid. Or mean. Or both.

  “It's okay,” he says. “Ask away.”

  “It's just that...” I pause. “I haven't really cried yet. On TV, when someone dies... I'm worried that I'm not reacting properly.”

  “Everyone reacts in their own way, Lisa.”

  “But am I doing it wrong?”

  “Absolutely not. I know you loved your mother. I loved her too. The fact that we're both being strong at this difficult time is... I don't know about you, but I think it's rather admirable. So many people weep and moan at the slightest provocation these days. There's no shame in being a little tough. Now, do you have any more questions?”

  I try to think of something. I feel as if I should have lots of questions, but nothing really comes to my mind.

  “Can I go watch a movie?” I ask.

  “On a bright, sunny morning?” Dad replies. He hesitates, and then he shrugs. “Sure. Just this once. But make sure it's nothing too scary.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Today

  Blood pours down her bare chest as she pulls harder and harder on the chains. She's held tight against the wall, however, and she can only scream as more blood sprays against her.

  The camera moves in for a close-up of her large, heaving breasts. The shot is kind of gratuitous, especially when it briefly slips into slow motion, but the wobbling of such huge breasts is in a way quite mesmerizing.

  The killer steps closer, holding a red hot poker that's already hissing and crackling. Laughing, the killer holds the poker close to the woman's face, causing her to scream with terror. The camera pulls back a little, and for the first time the woman's full, nude body comes into view, with so much blood pouring all the way down her. She's twisting this way and that, still desperately trying to get away, but the camera switches to a shot of the killer's grinning face as he moves the burning poker slowly down and out of the shot.

  The woman screams again, and there's a sizzling sound as her flesh is seared. The killer's smile grows, as if he's really enjoying her suffering. The screams are so loud, they momentarily cause my headphones to crackle, but then the camera switches to a shot of the bloodied woman as she slumps down, held up only by the chains around her wrists.

  Chuckling maniacally, the killer turns his back on her.

  In that instant, the woman's eyes open and she lets out another cry. She somehow leaps up and wraps her legs around the killer's neck, pulling him back and then starting to squeeze. He tries to get free, but the woman snarls as she pulls tighter and tighter. The look on the killer's face is classic as blood starts to run from his mouth, and there's a nasty crunching sound as his neck is crushed. Broken bones start poking out the sides of his neck, and I can see why this movie was banned when it first came out. There are lots of gratuitous shots of the woman's still-shaking breasts as she tries to finish the killer off, and as she lets him slowly drop to his knees.

  “I'll do anything!” he gasps with his dying breath. “Let me live, and I'll do anything you want, I'll give you anything! I'll be your slave forever! Just let me live, I beg of you! Let me live!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ten years ago

  “And you're absolutely sure?” Dad says as he leads the police officer to the door. “The autopsy definitely confirmed an aneurysm?”

  “I'm afraid so,” the officer replies. “I'll have a copy of the full report forwarded to you, if you like.”

  “I'd appreciate that,” Dad says. “So this could have happened at any time?”

  “Yes. From my understanding.”

  Dad opens the door for him.

  “So,” Dad continues, “hypothetically speaking, an argument wouldn't necessarily have triggered it?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “What about stress?”

  “Doctor Boxall was quite clear,” the officer says, turning to him. “I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Ashford.” He glances at me. “This must be a very difficult time.”

  “Thanks for coming to tell us in person,” Dad says, before turning to show him out. “I appreciate that.”

  Once the officer is gone, Dad comes back through and stops. He seems lost in his own thoughts, as if he can't quite believe what he just heard. When he looks at me, there's a hint of wonder in his eyes.

  “Did you hear that, Lisa?” he asks. “It just happened. It could have happened to anyone. It was like a bolt from the sky, it was sheer luck. Can you believe that?”

  “So Mum didn't do anything wrong?” I ask.

  “Your mother...”

  His voice trails off, and for a few seconds he once again seems genuinely lost for words. He keeps mentioning the fact that Mum's death was random, that it came out of nowhere. It's as if he can't quite accept that she died in that way, at that exact moment. I keep wondering whether he feels guilty about the fact that they argued right before she left, but I don't know how to ask.

  “Everything's fine now,” he says. “We've lost your mother, but we're going to be okay. Do you realize that, Lisa? This time yesterday, I thought...”

  I wait for him to continue.

  “This time yesterday,” he adds, “I thought the world was crashing down,
but now everything's going to be just fine.”

  He steps toward me and kisses me tenderly on the forehead.

  “You and me,” he continues, “together forever. We'll make it work, Lisa. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together.”

  I try to think of something to say, but I guess I'm just not smart enough to be deep and meaningful. And then, hearing footsteps on the gravel outside, I lean past Dad just in time to see a familiar figure hurrying toward the door.

  “Dad?” I say cautiously, not really wanting to interrupt his mood. “Grandma's here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Today

  Birds are singing in the hedgerows as I make my way along the winding lane. It's a beautiful morning here in Forkworth, one of those mornings when the English countryside seems to come alive with the wonders of nature. In fact, I can't help feeling so utterly pleased to live here. I can't imagine why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else.

  ***

  “How's your father getting along?” Mrs. Allsop asks in the shop, as she scans my items and packs them into a linen bag for me. “I haven't seen him around for a while.”

  “Oh, he's fine, thank you,” I reply.

  “Is he still working from home?”

  I nod.

  “I suppose architects can do that these days, can't they?” she continues. “Why go to an office, when you can just sit at a desk in the comfort of your own home?”

  “He goes to London about twice a month,” I tell her.

  “I don't envy him that.”

  “Me neither.”

  She starts talking about how much she hates London, but I can't help looking over my shoulder. I look out the window, and sure enough I see a familiar figure coming out of the cafe opposite. It's Caitlin, wearing a waitress uniform, and she's clearing one of the outside tables after some people left earlier.

  “That'll be eight eighty, please,” Mrs. Allsop says.

  Turning to her, it takes me a moment to realize exactly what she means. I must have completely zoned out while I was watching Caitlin.

  “Are you okay?” Mrs. Allsop asks. “You look a little pale, my dear.”