Chad exhaled through his nose. “That plastic bag’s given me an idea.”
“Thinking about suffocating me with it?”
“Yes.”
Romeo laughed. “Which one of us is the sadistic murderer, again?”
“I’ve not killed anything.”
“Not even by accident? Not hit a bird or rabbit on the road?”
“No.”
Romeo hummed. “What about putting an animal out of its misery?”
Chad stiffened.
“Ah, we’re getting somewhere.”
“Shut up.”
“Ya know, the first thing I killed hadn’t even opened its eyes. It hadn’t even breathed a first breath, made a noise.”
“How can you have killed it then?”
“I was seven years old. I lived in this nice detached house with my parents, highbrow, expensive village. And in the garden, there was this oak tree, and in the oak tree, lived a magpie.”
“A magpie?”
“Yep. Each year it rebuilt its tumbling nest, and Mr. Magpie and Mrs. Magpie made sweet love, and aw, rejoice, eggs appeared.”
“What did you do?”
“Come on, detective, I’ve laid it all out for you. What do you think I did?”
“You destroyed the eggs.”
“I climbed up that tree, sat on a branch, and squeezed every one of them.”
“It’s cruel.”
“No … that’s not cruel. Doing it year after year is the real cruelty. Sometimes the magpie watched from the roof, saw what I did, but it still rebuilt its nest in exactly the same place. It still laid those eggs knowing the risk.”
“It was just a bird.”
“Magpies are clever. It knew.”
“What are you saying, it laid its eggs there, so you’d kill them?”
“No, it was challenging me, carrying on, each year thinking I’d bend, that I’d change my behavior. It hated me, and I hated it, but neither of us could change our biology. Stubborn bird, monstrous boy.”
“You’re deluded. The magpie wasn’t playing a game with you. They’re not that intelligent. Its brain’s the size of a walnut.”
“Your brain’s twenty times bigger, and still you ended up here, half naked, chained to the floor like a dog.”
Chad snorted. “I can’t argue with that.”
Romeo stood up, taking the plastic bag with him. “I know you’ll never admit it, but I bet your hands are feeling a bit better now.”
It was true, both statements were true. Chad didn’t comment, and Romeo laughed.
“Have they found the Porsche yet?” he asked.
“Yes, and your phone. I imagine they’ve got the rock, too, but they’ve not said. Guess they want to keep details of your disappearance a secret as long as they can. I mean the public are panicked enough knowing there’s been another murder, let alone knowing the murderer has kidnapped a detective.”
“Are the press reporting you’ve got your number two?”
“There’s heavy speculation. Journalists aren’t stupid. They put two and two together.”
“And come up with bullshit.”
Romeo grinned. “Something like that.”
“Squeezing those eggs, strangling those people, killing those dogs, do you not feel guilty? Do you not feel anything?
“I haven’t killed any dogs.”
“Tristram Adams’s…”
“Who?”
“Number four.”
“Oh yeah, him.” The smile on Romeo’s face told Chad he knew Tristram’s name, just wanted him called what he’d branded him.
“Tristram had two dogs.”
“I remember, friendly mutts. Very licky.”
“You left them in that house, no water, no food, no escape. They had to be euthanized.”
“Had to be, or did a person decide that?”
Chad lowered his gaze. “It was the best thing to do for them, they were suffering—”
“Best thing to do for them… If it was a person they found, starved, barely alive, they wouldn’t be euthanized, would they? They’d be looked after, made better. Did it bother you to see those dogs?”
“Yes.”
“Did it bother you more, seeing them, or seeing number four dead in his bed?”
“They were both horrendous sights.”
Romeo tilted his head, taking Chad’s reaction in. “You’re lying. You were more bothered about those dogs, weren’t you?”
“You left them to suffer. They tried to get out. They could see freedom through the cat flap in the back door but couldn’t reach it. The place smelled of feces, and urine, and they hadn’t had a scrap to eat. It was hell.”
Romeo looked pointedly around the barn, then shook his head. “A hell you now share. If you don’t eat food, and barely drink the water I give you, you’ll turn out the same as those dogs, but when they find you, they’ll take you to hospital. They will save you.”
“They won’t if I freeze to death first. At least let me have some clothes, a blanket.”
“I gave you my jacket… Maybe if Tristram had been a better friend, a better brother, a better neighbor, people would’ve checked on him sooner, and saved those dogs. Ever thought of that?”
“He loved those dogs.”
“And how far did that get them?”
“Surely there’s something you care about, something you love.”
Romeo tapped his temple. “I’m not wired like you. My genetics are different. A mutation must’ve made me heartless. It’s not my fault, it’s nature. I’ve often thought about what it must feel like to feel love towards someone, wondered what it does to you, mentally, physically, but what’s the point in dwelling over something that will never be?”
“You must’ve had a cold childhood.”
Romeo sat down on the floor, avoiding Chad’s vomit stain. He crossed his legs and leaned closer. “Are you trying to criminal profile me, throw me into a category with all the killers with daddy and mummy issues? Have me blame it all on not being loved as a child? Sorry to disappoint you.”
“What was your childhood like then?”
“Great. My parents adored me. I was an only child; all their attention went on me. I was a well-behaved, nicely mannered, friendly child. I passed my exams with ease, graduated, got a well-paid job in the city, traveled the world. All the things only the lucky get to do … but it was empty. The need to kill never went away.”
“How proud your parents must be.”
“Oh, they were for sure, but they’re dead now. This little … desire of mine can’t upset them, can’t disappoint them. I was the perfect son to them while they were alive, but now I don’t have to pretend anymore. What about you, were you a perfect son?”
Chad turned away.
“People that accuse others of having a shit childhood usually had a shit one themselves. Let’s hear it?”
“Shut up.”
Romeo snorted, and got to his feet. “How interesting. Were mummy and daddy cold towards you perhaps? Were they disappointed? Or maybe they didn’t care about you, maybe they preferred drugs, or alcohol. Maybe they were bad people, and that’s why you decided to become a detective, to become one of the good guys.”
Chad could feel Romeo’s eyes boring into him but refused to confirm or deny.
“You want me to answer your questions but refuse to answer mine.”
“I’m the detective. You’re the killer, so that’s how this works.”
“You’ve written the rule book have you, Detective Constable Chad Fuller. What about this is a normal situation? Have you been captured by a killer before?”
“No, this is a first for me.”
Romeo looked as if he was about to stand up, but then he stopped, smirked, and attached his gaze back on Chad.
“I thought you’d got me. I thought the game was up.”
Chad narrowed his eyes and glared. “But you overpowered me—”
“I’m not talking about then… I’m talking about b
efore.”
Chad’s heart skipped a beat. “Before?”
“I knew who you were. I’d seen your face, and the faces of your colleagues enough in the papers, that I recognized you.”
“Where, where are you talking about?”
“You looked right at me, and I thought something had clicked in that slow little head of yours.”
“When, where?”
“And the funny thing is, that wasn’t the only time. There was a second time. You looked so angry, and I thought—he’s got me—he’s worked it out, but then you were gone. As quickly as you’d come, you were gone.”
“I’ve not seen you before. I would’ve remembered your face.”
Romeo snorted. “Why? Because it’s attractive?”
“It’s not. It’s evil, twisted.”
Romeo ran his fingers along his jaw. “We both know I’m hot. I often wondered why genetics would give me this face, this voice, this body, then make me incapable of loving the people attracted to it. Why make me outwardly beautiful, but inside a monster?”
“Tell me when we’ve met before. Tell me where?”
“You’re the detective, work it out. If you do, I’ll cuff your hands at your front instead of behind so you can actually use them. There’s an incentive for you to work that slow little brain of yours.”
Chad refused to acknowledge Romeo’s mocking grin and lifted his chin up at the plastic bag.
“Water?”
“Are you gonna let me give it to you?”
Chad scrunched up his nose and turned his head. “You can put it on the floor, I’ll work out a way to do it myself.”
Romeo snorted, got up, and walked a few meters away. He opened his plastic bag, pulled out a bottle, shook it so Chad took notice, then poured the contents on the ground by his feet.
“Stubborn detective, haven’t you realized, you’re not in control of this situation? You never were.”
He dropped the empty bottle, opened the barn doors slightly, then slipped out, leaving Chad on his own for the third day.
****
Romeo had told him they’d seen each other before, not just once but twice. Twice since the case had opened, and Chad hadn’t remembered. Romeo was the kinda guy he would’ve taken notice of, huge, muscular, with a face that belonged in fashion magazines, and romantic movies.
He lay on his side, did his best to ignore his throbbing body, and closed his eyes.
He imagined he was back in the incident room. The board about the killer had Romeo’s face pinned to it. His stupidly attractive face, smirking like the man in the movie.
“We’ve got a killer on the loose who has avoiding CCTV and witnesses down to a fine art…”
It was Martin’s voice echoing in Chad’s tormented mind. He nodded, agreeing with him. It was no spontaneous spree. He’d planned to murder, years, maybe even decades in advance. He’d waited until his parents were dead before fulfilling his sick fantasy.
The numbers weren’t just a way of mocking the police and inciting fear, but they kept a cap on Romeo’s spree. He’d positioned the posts of his goal, and all he needed to do was knock each one in. Five.
He was only gonna kill five.
“Only,” Chad mumbled, shaking his head. Five was five too many. He’d got four, and Chad needed to make sure he didn’t get the last one.
“He’s got a thing for strangling…”
Romeo’s hands were definitely big enough; he was easily strong enough. They’d known they were looking for a big guy, and he certainly was one.
“He uses the victims’ homes … their possessions.”
The DI had questioned whether the killer was homeless, but Romeo didn’t look unkempt. His appearance was well maintained. He looked good, smelled good. He rode high on his murderous endorphins while using their possessions. It added to his excitement.
“But the suit,” Chad whispered. “It’s been three days, and he hasn’t changed it… Where does he go? There’s no sound of an engine when he leaves.”
Chad stared at the barn doors accusingly, picturing Romeo outside, peeking a look through the wooden slats, and grinning at Chad’s stupidity.
He huffed, then rolled onto his opposite hip. He’d only been reciting what he’d already knew, but Romeo had added to the whiteboard.
Chad flashed a look at the car, a battered old mini. Its wheels were covered in mud, and Chad could see the track it had made when Romeo drove it in. He could travel, and looking at him suited, styled, the car didn’t match him. The car looked tattered in comparison.
Romeo hadn’t killed him, not because morally he didn’t want to, but it didn’t fit with his plan, his pattern. He was a man that needed to feel in control and keep himself accountable to his own standards.
He wasn’t going to cheat, even when it was his own game. He was playing to his rules and winning.
Chad groaned, then turned on to his back. It crushed his hands, and made his shoulders ache, but it gave his hips a rest. He stared at the hole in the roof, watching birds fly by.
He ran through all the people he’d seen around the station the past few months, trying to work out when and where he might’ve seen Romeo, but there was nothing. He was memorable. It should’ve clicked right away when he’d first revealed himself from the trees, but it hadn’t.
A bird perched at the edge of the hole and looked down on him.
“Which can only mean one thing … he’s toying with me, messing with my mind.”
The bird turned its head, eyeing him up.
“I’m not dead yet,” Chad shouted.
It flew away, and he swore he saw a flash of white in its black feathers.
A magpie had been looking down on him.
Romeo had well and truly messed up his head. Chad sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.
****
The sun had faded. The birds had fallen silent. The cold came back worse than the nights before. Chad covered himself as best he could with Romeo’s jacket. Every hair on his body stood up; shivers racked his frame, and he felt the cold creeping up from the wooden boards.
Each ragged breath that left his lips came out as a cloud before dispersing. It was so cold he could no longer feel his fingers, or his toes.
****
Chad’s shivering stopped, his teeth no longer knocking together, but he knew it wasn’t a good sign. His body couldn’t cope with the cold. He was going to die, but before he did, he needed to work out who Romeo was.
He’d been chained up inside a barn. A barn seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He never heard any cars whizzing past, or people walking their dogs. It must’ve been set back in the fields, the farmers’ fields.
Chad struggled to sit up, then drew his knees to his chest. He and Zac had talked about such a barn, one defaced, painted. His eyes found the paint tins in the corner. Red, green, and black had dripped over the edges of the pots, and the dirtied brushes were on the ground.
The farmer had been in the station. Chad had been staring at him through a window, and their gazes had connected for the briefest of seconds. Then Chad had turned away.
That had been the first time, but Romeo said about a second. One when he was angry.
He said that as quickly as Chad had come, he was gone again.
Chad rocked back and forward, willing his brain to function, and then in a snap, he remembered. He’d been driving like a maniac back to the station. Martin had been in the car. He’d had his blue lights flashing, and he’d driven right up behind a tractor. He’d overtaken him, just missing Vincent driving in the opposite direction.
He hadn’t noticed Romeo’s size and stature because he hadn’t been standing up. He’d been sitting down. He hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t been wearing a suit, but a tweed jacket, a flat cap, muddy boots.
It suddenly felt so obvious.
All the victims had the same stretch of road in common. An empty road surrounded by fields, clumps of trees, hedgerows.
All owned by th
e farmer.
He’d worked it out, and now the best thing he could think to do was die, die and destroy Romeo’s perfect plan by being his unintended number one.
Chapter Twelve
“Hey, Chad … wake up.”
The panicked voice bled into Chad’s subconscious. He’d never heard someone sound so worried about him before. He could feel he was being rubbed, and something soft was against his bare legs. Something close to warm. The concern, the warm, it all felt kind of nice.
The slap to his face didn’t.
“You felt that this time?”
His cheek prickled, a pins and needles sensation that traveled up to his hairline, and down to his throat. He grimaced, then slowly opened his eyes.
Chad didn’t know where he was, but he recognized the man straddling him, the man hovering above. It was Romeo’s concern, Romeo’s rubbing hands, Romeo’s slap to the face.
“You will not die. You will not fuck this up,” Romeo growled. “Stupid!”
Chad’s eyebrows twitched, and he tried to curl away from Romeo’s rage, but Romeo kept him still.
“Not you. Me. I fell asleep. I didn’t realize how cold it had gotten until I walked in and saw you half frozen.”
Chad’s teeth began to chatter, and his body started to shiver. Romeo stopped rubbing him, but still hovered over. Chad swore he could see fire in his eyes.
“You’re the farmer.”
The words slurred, but Romeo gave him a small smile like he’d guessed right. Then his eyes glinted, and his smile grew wider, and toothier, a wolfish grin that said he knew something Chad didn’t.
“I’ll give you half a point…”
“What?” Chad mumbled.
Romeo moved from over him and got to his feet. Finally, Chad took in the roof, not a roof, but a ceiling. The white ceiling flickered red, and orange. He rolled onto his side, and saw the fireplace, the roaring flames beyond the small glass door.
Chad stared at the flames, willing the heat to soak into his near-frozen body. Every muscle felt overworked, and sluggish.
“Here,” Romeo said.
He kneeled down, showed Chad the hot water bottle, then pulled the blanket off Chad’s legs. He didn’t have the energy to protest. Romeo put the bottle between his thighs, and the sudden warmth against his numbed body made Chad groan.
One for Sorrow Page 9
