Bannister looked out into the garden again, Kelly was talking away, Faith had her head lowered, long brown hair obscuring her face.
'And you say she doesn't get on with her old man?' he asked.
'According to Faith the only things that interest him are money and power. He pushes her continually to succeed and basically rules her life.'
'Sounds like a charmer,' Bannister said as he took another glug of coffee. 'But what do we know about the father of the child?'
'Do you remember the lad who sat with Kelly at the engagement party?'
'Yeah, but what has he got to do with all this?'
He listened as she told him about Danny East being the father to Faith's unborn child, his eyes darkening with anger.
'And before you go off on one, Kelly has explained that East was never her boyfriend and that he just tagged along to the party without really being invited.'
'So, the lad's a chancer then,' he replied in clipped tones.
'Kelly said he was an immature idiot and both of the lads had to walk home when her and Belle kicked them out of the car.'
'Glad to hear it,' he replied with sharp grin of satisfaction.
'But it's too late for poor Faith.'
Bannister looked at her, the grin slipping from his face. 'OK, broach the subject and tell her that I can either go with her or I can tell her father myself if she feels unable to do it.'
'You'd do that?' she asked in surprise.
'Well, what's the alternative?'
'To be honest I can't see one.'
'The problem is if she refuses and asks us to keep quiet about it all then it could blow up in our faces.'
Suzanne nodded in understanding, trying to quell the sudden feeling of approaching disaster.
Bannister took another gulp from the mug and closed his eyes; within minutes he was snoring as light from the fading sun continued to pour into the conservatory.
35
Lasser sat on the canal bank, his knees drawn up, smoking a cigarette.
Jackie leaned against him and smiled. 'I love this time of year,' she said, watching the whippet come dashing towards them, tail wagging.
'Yeah, it feels nice to have some sun on your face,' Lasser agreed as he rubbed one of the dog's ears between finger and thumb.
'At this rate you'll end up with a tan,' she joked.
A barge went chugging by and Lasser raised a hand to the guy steering the narrowboat.
'Looks like a grand sunset is on the way,' the man shouted over.
'Hopefully,' Lasser replied as the boat glided away down the canal.
'I got another commission today,' Jackie said once the sound of the engine had faded.
Slipping his arm around her shoulder Lasser pulled her closer. 'Great news, so what is it this time?'
'Haigh Hall.'
Lasser glanced at her. 'Really?'
'Mm, one of the guys who sits on the board of directors has seen my website and likes what I do so they asked me to do a landscape of the Hall.'
'Wow, that's big time.'
'Seven grands' worth of big time,' she grinned.
'Bloody hell, that's a fair wedge.'
'I should have asked for nine as they agreed to seven straight away.'
A duck landed on the water, sending up a sun-dappled spray before shaking its feathers and giving a quack.
'How long will it take?' he asked, flicking ash into the grass.
'No more than four or five weeks and then I have a couple more lined up.'
'Things are going good then?'
'They are,' she paused, 'I was thinking we could perhaps have a holiday with some of the proceeds.'
When she saw the slight crinkling of his brow she eased away slightly. 'That would be OK, wouldn't it?'
'Er, I love the holiday idea, but I can't have you pay for it.'
'Why ever not?'
Lasser suddenly looked embarrassed as he gave a shrug. 'Sorry, it's just the way I'm made.'
'Look, ever since we've been together you never let me pay for anything and in one respect that's sweet but in another, I'm an independent woman, I'm used to paying my own way.'
He turned and gave her a crooked grin. 'OK, I'll make you a deal, you book the holiday and I'll provide the spends.'
'I can live with that,' she replied with a smile.
Lasser pursed his lips, the look of surprise flickering in his eyes. 'So, you're OK with that?'
'Perfectly.'
'Good, that's sorted then.'
They fell into an easy silence, as the man on the boat had suggested the sun – when it started to set – lit the sky in raspberry-infused light, tinting the swirls of cloud that hovered in the pale blue sky.
Lasser narrowed his eyes against the glare, trying to remember the last time he had watched a sunset. The truth was he never did, never bothered to slow down and enjoy what nature had to offer.
'I could get used to this,' he mumbled.
'Used to what?'
'Watching the sunset sat here with you,' his arm went further around her and she felt his hand close softly on her right breast.
With a sigh she snuggled into him as the sun continued to shimmer on the horizon.
36
Foster thrashed in his sleep, his body drenched with sweat as he ran through the woods, sharp brambles snagging at his legs, the cackling of magpies drilling into his brain. He had the knife in his right hand, the blade dripping a trail of red into the undergrowth as he ran, his breathing laboured, his heart racing. Somehow, he knew he was being chased, he could sense someone closing in, hunting him down.
'Help me,' he gasped.
The phone trapped beneath his hood remained silent, the voice had deserted him once more and this time he knew it was for good, he had failed to follow orders though the truth was he had no idea what those demands had been.
When his right foot caught the hidden chunk of wood buried beneath the tangle of weed, he cried out and pitched forward, arms outstretched, mouth wide in a silent scream as he hit the ground hard and groaned in despair.
Suddenly, the sound of the chattering carrion ceased, and he lay on his stomach trying to draw air into his lungs. He could feel the breeze flutter against his face, shafts of sunlight streamed through the branches like searchlights trying to pinpoint his location. His mind twisted and turned as he tried to fathom why he was running, why his master had left him alone in a world of fear and doubt?
When he heard the sharp crack of a branch underfoot he whimpered, his brain telling him to get up and run, yet he couldn't seem to move, his hands now grabbing at the grass in terror as he lowered his face to the ground in a desperate attempt to hide from what was coming.
Another sharp snap – closer this time – and he started to shake as the terror grew inside. Slowly he lifted his head and watched as the shafts of light vanished one by one as if someone were turning out the beams of light individually with the flick of some imaginary switch.
Shadows seemed to move and shift, drawing together to form a solid mass of darkness that crept towards him through the trees, images flashed through his mind, the ''big I am'' screaming as he clawed at his dissolving eyes, glutinous liquid dripping from his fingers; from one of the empty orbs the birdwatcher slowly oozed out, binoculars in his hand, spraying red from his throat where the knife had parted flesh, the blood looking startlingly bright as it hit the green of his waterproof jacket, then he turned and offered his binoculars to the blind man.
Suddenly, the ground around him seemed to rumble, the shock travelling up through his body making him whimper in terror. The birdwatcher slithered back into the empty orb and the ''big I am'' sunk into a hole in the ground.
'You left me, Benny, you left your own mother to DIE!'
This time Foster could do nothing about the scream that erupted from his mouth, the ground continued to tremble, he clawed at the grass, his legs thrashing as he tried to snake his way forward.
'I was forced to sit in a WET BED!'
she screeched. 'I needed my MEDICATION but all you were bothered about was listening to the man on the phone, listening to HIM!'
Foster continued to scream but the voice sliced through his terror-filled anguish.
'While you were sitting at the canal daydreaming, I was dying on the floor, I was in so much pain and I tried shouting out to you, but you didn't listen, you didn't care about your OWN MOTHER!'
Foster gulped in huge mouthfuls of air that failed to reach his lungs as he continued to worm his way forward, his eyes bug-like and frantic.
'Look at me, Benny, look what you've done!'
'NO!' he wailed in response.
'Look at what your callous heart did to me!'
'Leave me alone!'
'LOOK AT YOUR MOTHER!' her voice boomed out, sending the magpies flapping to the air, their cries fading as they vanished into the woods.
Benny Foster continued to cry as he lay shaking on the ground.
'I loved you, Benny, I still do, even though you left me alone, it's a mother's job to love her son no matter what.'
For the first time ever, Foster could hear love in her voice, love and sadness at the way things had turned out.
Wiping his nose, he lifted his head and peered into the shadows, the fear subsiding slightly as he swallowed the emotion.
'I'm sorry, Benny, I should have made the effort, I should have listened to you when you said I needed to eat more vegetables instead of cream cakes. I should have made the effort to change my life for your sake, you are my boy and I love you and yet I put myself first.'
Benny's eyes widened in amazement as he listened to the words he had never expected to hear.
'Can you ever forgive me?' she asked in a trembling voice.
Foster closed his eyes and more tears slipped free, then he was rolling over onto his back and pushing himself into a sitting position, his eyes still closed as his body shook with regret.
'I'm so cold, Benny, I always thought I would be going to a warm place, a place of sunshine with the birds singing and the flowers in full bloom. I thought I would be thin, I thought I would be able to run and jump and dance like they do on Strictly Come Dancing.'
Her voice was full of despair and longing, the longing to turn back time and start again, to do things right this time and to be a proper mother, an active mother.
'I need a hug, Benny Bear.'
Foster wept at the pet name and suddenly he recalled childhood memories of sitting on his mother's knee and snuggling into her bosom, feeling the warmth and the security engulf him.
Slowly he stretched out his arms and then opened his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as his mother loomed over him, her sweat-streaked hair lay slick against her skull, her naked body seemed to ooze in front of his terror-stricken eyes. The bosom he had fondly recalled only a second earlier hung down onto her gut that in turn swung down near her knees, the flesh black and purple with bruises and clotted blood.
When she smiled Benny screamed again.
'Come to Mummy!' she cackled as she fell forward, her truncated arms waving, her bingo wings flapping.
Foster thrashed at the duvet, trying to break free of the nightmare, his terror absolute as he jumped from the bed and promptly fell to the bedroom floor when his legs gave way.
37
The man yawned and stretched his arms towards another clear blue sky. He watched the familiar blackbird hop across the short-cropped grass, pausing occasionally to hunt for the elusive worm.
Moving across the patio, he sat down before taking a gulp from the warm sweet tea. He had been corresponding late into the night with the one named Zero, pushing his buttons in an effort to gauge the rage inside, and it had been there in every word Zero typed, a burning hatred mixed with a desperate need to serve.
Taking another sip from the cup, he thought about Benny Foster, another servant with hate in his heart, though there was a fragility there, a sense that at some point he could unravel and break down completely.
Raising his gaze, he looked at the perfect sky and contemplated what to do with Foster.
So far things were going to plan, two random victims to muddy the water, to confuse the authorities, a smokescreen to cover the real reason he had spent so much time grooming Foster and now the one named Zero.
By the time he had finished, the police would be running around in circles from one victim to the next, allowing him the time to really make the ones he hated pay for the things they had done.
Pursing his lips, he nodded to himself before reaching into his pocket to retrieve the phone.
Taking a final gulp from the cup, he tapped at the screen and pressed the green icon, the smile slowly spreading as he contemplated the busy day ahead.
38
Lasser drove through the early morning snarl-up, the summer sun glared into the car warming his hands on the wheel. The window was down letting in the occasional trill of birdsong as he crawled along the road.
When his phone rang, he lifted it from his pocket and tapped the loudspeaker before slotting the phone into the holder.
'Another day, another dollar,' Bannister said nonsensically.
'Morning,' Lasser replied as he changed up a gear.
'I assume you're out and about?'
'Just on my way to the station.'
'Did you finish checking the mental health units?' the DCI demanded.
The traffic slowed again and Lasser tapped the brake. 'We did the four main ones yesterday; the trouble is there are clinics dotted around town so we're going to get a list together and pay them all a visit.'
'I'll get Spenner and Rourke to give you a lift, divvy up the workload.'
'I take it nothing happened last night?' Lasser asked.
'Not that I know of thank God, but this animal isn't waiting for it to go dark before he attacks so there's no reprieve in the daylight hours.'
Lasser thought of Mitchell Banks sprawled on the path, his body bathed in warm sunlight as the flies gathered on the freshly spilled blood. 'I hate this,' he said with a sigh.
'It's the not knowing what will happen next, isn't it?' Bannister said with understanding.
'We know Marshall was a shit and a bully, but he didn't deserve that, and Banks was no threat at all and yet he ends up dead.'
'Beggars belief how some people are these days.'
'Is it me or are things getting worse?' Lasser asked as the traffic started to speed up.
'Well, there are those who say things are no different and that the technology we have today just means the crimes go out into the wide world a lot faster than they used to.'
'Do you believe that?'
'Partly I do, I mean, think about it, a few decades ago there was no internet or social media to spread the word. If someone was murdered in a town or a city then chances are it didn't go beyond the local area unless it was something particularly horrific then the nationals might have reported it, but on the whole, it went unnoticed by the world at large.'
Lasser though about what his boss was saying. 'I understand that, but what about this town, at one time murder was rare but now it seems as soon as we catch one sick bastard another jumps up to take their place?'
'So speaks the voice of doom,' Bannister said with a heavy sigh.
Lasser didn't bother with a reply, knowing that it would only lead to Bannister raging about the system again.
'Are you still there?'
'Yeah, I'm here.'
'Right, well, I'm at the station now so I'll get the list of places you need to visit and give half to Spenner and Rourke.'
'No problem.'
'Are you all right, Sergeant?' Bannister suddenly asked.
Lasser eased up to the roundabout and checked right before pulling out into the road. 'I'm fine.'
'Well, I'm not.'
Lasser glanced at the phone in surprise. 'Why, what's the matter?'
Bannister started to talk, telling him about Faith Hinton and her predicament. By the time he had finished Lasser had a
cigarette on the go, the smoke trailing through the window.
'Do you think she'll tell her old man about being pregnant?' he asked.
'I bloody hope so because I'm not comfortable with any of this. I mean, if it was Kelly or Belle and they went telling a complete stranger their personal business without confiding in me then I wouldn't be happy.'
Lasser suddenly pictured a cartoon caricature of Bannister leaping up and down on the spot, his head swelling with rage before exploding as he ranted.
'Tricky situation,' he admitted.
'I'm keeping my fingers crossed that either the girls or Suzanne can get her to see sense.'
'Well, perhaps all she needs is a bit of time to come to the right decision.'
'That's what I'm hoping. Anyway, get your skates on, we have a busy day ahead of us.'
As usual the phone beeped and died without any goodbye.
Lasser took another pull on the cigarette and got his foot down.
39
'What are you talking about?'
Foster trudged down the road dressed in his new clothes, the hood up on his jacket, as usual the phone was trapped against the side of his head. 'She was trying to get to her medication, Master, and must have fallen out of bed, and by the time I got home she was stone cold dead,'
'You're a poet and you didn't know it,' the voice laughed lightly.
Foster frowned in confusion. 'I don't understand.'
The deep sigh seeped into his ear.
'Never mind, Benny, and believe it or not I'm sorry for your loss.'
'I'm not, I hated her, she was a rubbish mother, in fact, she was rubbish at everything.'
'She was rather talented at one thing.'
'Eating?' Foster said as his body started to itch, almost as if his skin was reacting to the clean clothing he was wearing.
'Correct, if eating was allowed in the Olympics then no doubt your mother would have been a gold medallist.'
Foster nodded to himself as he walked down the street heading for the town centre. 'A world record holder, but I don't know what to do about her?'
'What do you mean?'
A bus went rumbling by, the air brakes hissing. 'She's too big to move.'
Dark of Mind Page 9
