by David Scott
Dan felt angry and embarrassed that Doctor Tern was talking as though Bernie was not in the room with them. She had not even offered any introductions or explained who they were. Dan knew that medics had to keep some distance, to avoid emotional interference or sentimentality from clouding their judgment, but this was ridiculous.
“Thank you, Doctor Tern,” Dan interrupted, “We will take it from here.”
“Very well. I will be in my office should you need any further assistance,” Doctor Tern said before spinning around on the balls of her feet, and marching out of the room; head held high, posture-perfect.
Dan moved closer to Bernie and knelt down, so that he was on her level.
“Sorry about that,” Dan said, “Let’s start again, shall we? I am Assistant Director Dan Goodchild of the FBI. Please call me Dan. This is Agent Luke Harrison, and I think you might know Sheriff Dawson already.”
Bernie immediately raised her head when Dan said his name, and stared into his eyes. Her eyes were blood-shot, with miniature crimson lightning strikes flashing across their white background. She had clearly been crying. Any pigment of colour had left her face, leaving her snow-white. Her thin lips forced themselves open, almost sealed from being so dry, and having caked together from a mixture of congealed saliva and ointment.
“Bernadette,” she said in a whisper, “But everyone calls me Bernie.”
It was an automatic response, and she spoke without emotion, like an electronic voice on a pre-recorded telephone message. At least it was a start, Dan thought, some interaction.
Dan searched his mind for the next question but he did not get the chance to ask it. Bernie had become more animated; her cheeks were starting to flush. Her eyes were welling up with new tears. She looked at him searchingly.
“Did you hear what he did to me?” Bernie stammered, “Did they tell you how he carved up my back in order to send his message to the world?”
Dan noticed that Bernie’s voice was turning harder, and suspected the change in appearance was a look of anger, not sorrow.
She continued, louder, “Turns out, Director Goodchild, that the FBI, no, that that you have chosen not to deliver his previous messages, and now I am paying for your silence.”
Bernie started to undo her robe and pulled it down off her shoulders. She ripped off the blood-soaked cotton bandages to reveal her torn flesh.
“Here. Look. Look for yourself!” Bernie’s voice was now raised and getting louder, until she was shouting at Dan, “See what he has done to me! Go on, look!”
Bernie had turned her naked torso around, so that they could all view the message. Dan had not expected this and felt even more annoyed at Doctor Tern; she should have told them about this straight away.
Bernie was now in full fury, “So, I need you to tell me. No, to promise me, that you will do exactly what this maniac, this monster, wants! Can you promise me that? I need to hear you say it! You have to tell everyone what he wants. You must!”
The tears burst out from Bernie’s eyes, and she started to cry uncontrollably, heaving heavily, searching for her breath.
“Why did you not warn us, Detective Goodchild? Why?” Bernie yelled out, having lost all control over her emotions, flailing at Dan with her clenched fists. Dan just stood in silence, taking the pounding.
Luke pulled Dan back from the bed, and Bernie collapsed back onto the mattress, almost wailing. No one knew what to do, except watch in an awkward silence, with concerned looks on their faces.
Doctor Tern re-appeared in the room with a nurse, and started to prepare an injection.
“It’s probably best that you give her a little more time.” Doctor Tern said authoritatively, before turning back to Bernie, “Now, Bernie, we’re just going to give you a little sedative to help you to calm down and get some rest.”
Bernie willingly accepted the relief on offer. She quickly calmed, and closed her eyes, as the nurse gently covered her with the duvet. No one else had moved, spectators to this uncomfortable scene.
“It’s really late,” Doctor Tern said in a more gentle, persuasive voice, “Perhaps it would be best to let her get some rest. Come back tomorrow. We will make sure she is not disturbed until you return.”
“I think that is a good idea Doc.” Sheriff Dawson said, in ready agreement.
“Yes, come on Dan.” Luke joined in, gently turning Dan around by the shoulders and leading him through the bedroom door, back out into the corridor.
Dan was shaken by this unexpected outburst. He had never expected to be attacked by Bernie or blamed for the killings. Nevertheless, guilt started to creep in, as exhaustion from the day left him feeling weak and vulnerable.
Dan knew that he needed to get out of this place, and wanted some time to process everything; the incident, the photo, the message, the demand, and his own feelings. Maybe then he would be ready to take on the red-eyed demon of a man who had proficiently killed off so many people.
Back at the hotel, Luke persuaded Dan to have a night-cap with him. Just to calm them both down after such an overwhelming day; a friendly sedative to help them sleep. They took a table in the corner, far away from the last few guests who were lingering around the bar.
Luke looked around to check they were out of sight and earshot of anyone, and rested his hand on Dan’s leg.
“You know this is not your fault, Dan. You cannot think that.”
Dan looked down at Luke’s hand, and then back up at Luke. He nodded slowly.
“And yet, Luke, I can’t help thinking that I went along with the decision not to tell anyone about the messages. That hasn’t helped. What if we had disclosed them? Maybe there would have been no more killings. Or maybe the people who have died would have stayed safe at home. At least they could have made an informed decision.”
Dan continued with his stream of consciousness, “I don’t know. Right now, all I do know is that I don’t feel good about any of this. Maybe I am just tired.”
Dan let out a large sigh, and scratched at his head out of habit.
“Dan we cannot be controlled by fear,” Luke said forcefully, “Should we all just hide-away and do nothing? What is the point of living if that is our attitude? You would have more chance of getting hit by a car than being killed by Pulcinella. So, do we never go outside just in case it is our unlucky day? No, of course not, we go out. We stand up to be counted.”
Dan watched Luke as he spoke, transfixed by the sincere passion in his voice, and the intensity of his stare.
“Anyway,” Luke continued, “Had we published Pulcinella’s words at the outset, can you imagine the panic they would have caused? You know how many crazy people would have come forward to declare themselves the killer. How could we have tested them? No, you did the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, I do feel sorry for Bernie and wish she had not been forced to suffer the way she did, but I don’t believe for one minute that Pulcinella would have stopped killing people just because we published his messages. Do you? No, he has a taste for it, the self-righteous maniac. He won’t stop now. We have to catch him. And we will. He is already making mistakes, being photographed and leaving a witness. His time will come, Dan.”
Luke drank his whiskey, and slammed the glass down onto the round, glass table.
Dan hoped that Luke was right and, somehow, hearing him confirm it aloud made him feel better. Now was not the time to dwell on past decisions. No, he had to focus on what to do next.
Dan knew that revealing the messages now would leave him open to scrutiny and criticism, and might create an air of fear, but not disclosing them had not really helped the case. It might just be that someone, somewhere knows something. These words may prompt them to come forward to share information that could lead to Pulcinella’s capture.
Dan also knew that Bernie’s life was in danger; if he did not do as Pulcinella instructed then he might well kill her, and Dan could not live with that on his conscience. Dan would not risk calling his bluff. It had to be done.
&nbs
p; He talked it through with Luke, who agreed. Not that Dan needed to consult him but he valued Luke’s input. They were partners in this, and he knew that he needed Luke beside him all the way, if he was going to get through this.
Dan swigged down his whiskey, and made the necessary calls.
Dan first spoke at length to Director Downton, who made it clear that he expected Dan to come up with some positive leads, and soon. However, he agreed to the press release, and readily conceded that full and frank disclosure might be preferable from now on. Keeping secrets was not working, so maybe the public should be fully briefed.
Dan suspected Director Downton’s support came from self-protectionism, so that he could not be criticised personally. However, Dan knew that, even if Director Downton had not supported his decision, he would have proceeded with this course of action in any event. Having Director Downton’s backing made it much easier.
The press junket was to be held tomorrow afternoon, after they had spoken again to Bernie and knew more about what had happened, and what they were dealing with.
Given Bernie’s reaction to Dan, they had agreed between them that it might be better to let Luke speak with her. Dan had initially resisted this idea but Luke’s was keen, and his gentle bass tones had proven persuasive.
Dan wanted to explain himself to Bernie, to try to explain the reasons for his decision, to take responsibility, and seek her forgiveness. However, it was too soon for this; Bernie was distraught and damaged, and she may never be ready to absolve him for his part in her mutilation. Dan knew he could only really obtain any sort of atonement by stopping Pulcinella.
Luke stood a much better chance of getting the much-needed information. In any event, Luke would be fitted with appropriate equipment to allow Dan to provide his input through an invisible earpiece, and to hear everything she said but, importantly, he would not be in the room to arouse her anger.
Luke agreed to take on the task even though he knew it was not going to be easy; it would be an uncomfortable discussion, and his questioning would naturally cause further upset to Bernie. The ‘nice guy’ in Luke did not want to do that, but he knew it was necessary if they were going to progress the investigation. He also wanted to help Dan.
Neither Dan nor Luke benefitted from much sleep that night, with too many thoughts racing through their minds, not to mention the pressure on them to get some results. They both awoke early. After eating a quick breakfast, washed down with copious amounts of black coffee, they drove straight over to the hospital.
Doctor Tern was thankfully out on an emergency call, so a nurse accompanied them to a small office to set up their audio equipment before escorting Luke back to Bernie’s room.
Luke knocked gently on Bernie’s hospital door, and slowly opened it, peering around to check that she was not asleep or indecent.
Bernie was sitting up; the bed having been mechanically raised to a right angle. The television was not switched on but she was still staring blankly towards it; her mind was processing the horrors of the recent past, and couldn’t cope with any further distraction.
“Morning Bernie,” Luke began, “I hope you don’t mind me coming back so soon but it is really important that we speak. There is a killer on the loose out there, and we need as much help as we can get to catch him.”
Bernie came to, and looked at him. She was pleased that only Luke was there. While she felt embarrassed about her attack on Dan, she was in no mood to apologise. Rightly, or wrongly, Bernie needed a release for her pain and anger. Dan remained a convenient target.
“Come in, Luke,” she said softly, “Here, come and sit on this chair beside me. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable but should do.”
Luke sat down on the red plastic chair. He passed her a paper cup. Small wisps of steam came up from it.
“I brought you some hot chocolate. They reckon having something sweet helps. Although I doubt if anything could help the way you must feel at the moment.”
Luke blew on his own drink, and took a sip. He knew it was a pathetic offering but he wanted an easy introduction to start the conversation.
“Thank you,” Bernie said, happily taking the drink.
They sat for a few moments together in amiable silence, enjoying the hot chocolate, and the accompanying artificial comfort it was providing; saccharin for the soul.
“Bernie, I have to ask you to tell me exactly what happened,” Luke said quietly, almost apologetically, “I need as much detail as you can remember.”
Bernie paused, and took another mouthful of her drink, “Luke, I am not sure I am ready to go through this. Not yet, at least.”
Luke noticed that the liquid in her cup was quivering, as her hands started to tremble. Bernie’s emotions were rising. Luke could hear Dan in his earpiece telling him what to say next. Just be truthful. Be yourself.
“Bernie, can I level with you?” Luke didn’t wait for an answer to his rhetorical question, “We have no leads at the moment. Nothing to go on. That’s why we originally didn’t disclose the information about the messages. If we had then we would not know whether the information we were receiving from the public was legitimate, and we could have caused panic. But now, we are stuck and have no way of stopping this from happening again. We will tell the press everything but we need your help now. Every second counts. He will kill again in less than a month, unless we can stop him. I know this is hard for you, and I really wish that I didn’t have to ask you, but we cannot wait. Please, Bernie. If you can. Please help us to stop this monster.”
Bernie paused for a moment, still looking down, but then she slowly raised her head, and nodded.
“Thank you, Bernie.” Luke said sincerely, “How about we start with what he looked like?”
Bernie exhaled heavily, and then spoke quietly, as though to ensure her attacker would not hear her incriminating testimony, “His eyes glowed red but seemed somehow lifeless. I know that sounds incredible, and I cannot explain it. I have seen nothing like it before. Maybe he was wearing some sort of night-vision device, or fantastical contact lenses. I really don’t know. A stare from the Devil could not have been any more terrifying.”
Bernie took a second to compose herself, “He seemed so tall. I don’t know what he was wearing, his clothes were indistinguishable it was all just loose, black, flowing. But he did wear some kind of weird mask.” She continued, “It was made of leather and had a long, protruding beak-like nose. It stunk of mouldy leather. And his arms and legs seemed to be made of weapons. They just came out of his body, and seemed attached to him. During the attack, there was a fury of metal. Flashing and glinting in the spotlights. Maybe swords or knives. And he also had guns, and some kind of gas spray.”
Bernie was now speaking quickly, as though trying to get everything out as fast as possible to bring the discussion to an end. She went on, without further prompting and before Luke could interject, “His voice was monotone. Calm and flat; emotionless. After all he had done, and yet there was nothing in his voice. He was also not out of breath.”
“What do you mean by that Bernie?”
“I ran away from him, as fast as I could, but he followed and easily caught up with me. Yet, despite all of this effort, I couldn’t hear his breath. I was panting, and in pain from the effort, but he showed no signs of exertion. I also couldn’t see his skin. Even when he came up close to my face, I couldn’t see anything except the mask, and those red eyes. Otherwise, there was nothing but darkness. Like some kind of phantom. I sound mad now, don’t I? Maybe I am.”
“And was he alone, or did you see anyone else?” Luke still could not believe this was the work of one person, and wanted to test this further.
“No, it was just him. But he moved so quickly, it was as though I was seeing everything in fast-forward. He killed so many people, so fast, and I thought,” Bernie inhaled deeply, put her head in her hands, brushed her hair back, and then rubbed the back of her neck, “I thought that was it, Luke. I thought I was dead. I tried to fi
ght back, to get him off me, I even tried to stab him with my car key, but I wasn’t strong enough. And when he was cutting into my back, I was pinned down so that I couldn’t move. And it hurt so much. I felt every slice of his knife. It was agony but my body let me down, and I couldn’t get him off me. I should have done something more. I should have run faster, or picked up a branch and hit him. Anything. Instead, I was forced to lay still, waiting for the end. Sobbing, thinking about all people I would never see again. All the things I hadn’t done.”
Luke couldn’t help but be affected by this and, when Bernie reached out to him, he instinctively took her in his arms, and held her tight. Her body heaved, as she broke down again.
“I’m sorry, Luke.” Bernie said, with a gentle sigh, as she eventually let go of Luke, “You didn’t come here for this. I am just trying to deal with this the best I can, you know? I can’t really believe it happened. I think I am going to wake up and it was just some awful nightmare. But it did happen, and I cannot escape it.”
They talked some more, and Bernie went on to provide further details of the fateful evening. It had been a brief moment in time but Bernie told him everything she could about what happened.
“I just keep seeing everyone screaming. See the blood, the fear in their eyes, as they looked for a way out, the panic as they fought for their lives. It happened so quickly. All I could do was run. As they were cut down, shot, and maimed. How could someone do that? I just can’t understand it. Luke, you have to stop him. Please. I don’t think I can go on knowing he is out there waiting for me.”
Luke gently placed his hands on Bernie’s shoulders, fixing her with his eyes, “Bernie, we will get him. I promise you. We have our best agents working on this. But listen, you need to stay strong and focus on yourself. We will make sure you are ok. We will have officers with you day and night to protect you. No further harm will come to you. You have my word.”
Their discussion was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of a large commotion coming from outside the door.
“No, you cannot go in. Please, no, wait!” A nearby voice urged.
