THE MURDERER'S SON a gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  After about three minutes he heard a sharp click, and the handle finally turned. Kevin opened the door.

  There was no alarm. And there was no room on the other side of the door, just a steep flight of stone steps. Of course! Kevin hit the side of his head with the flat of his hand. A house like this, with a hot tub and a sauna, would have a boiler room. His mood lifted. And what better place to conceal something!

  Kevin went through the door and closed it behind him, then moved carefully down the stairs. After some six or seven steps, they turned sharply to the left, and after going down another short flight, Kevin found himself in a smallish cellar beneath the chalet room. At least he was now safe to use his torch.

  He swung the narrow beam around and saw that he had been right. This place contained all the equipment for running the pool room. He stood for a while and tried to get his bearings. It obviously wasn’t the main cellar — that would most certainly have been checked by the search team, but there was a good chance that they had missed this extra ante-chamber.

  He thought carefully. They would have accessed the main cellar from the door close to the kitchen, gone down and thoroughly searched it. Then, if they had checked the chalet and seen the door there, they might well have assumed that it led directly down an area that had already been cleared. So this could be virgin territory! Kevin bit his lip and wondered if he dare look for an electric light switch.

  Why not? No one could see a light down here, even the door at the top of the stairs was a solid one, and he had been careful to close it. He moved the flashlight around the walls but couldn’t locate a switch.

  He cursed out loud. Searching through all the boxes and shelves would take forever with his piddling little Maglite. He needed something far more powerful. Surely there had to be some form of lighting? He shone the beam upwards and saw the long flat white cover to a fluorescent strip. Feeling encouraged, Kevin moved back towards the bottom of the stairs, and squinted into the shadows. Yes! In a dark recess, he saw the plastic plate of a light switch. Brilliant! He moved quickly towards it, reached out his hand, then lurched forward down an unseen and very steep stone step.

  With a cry that echoed around the small room, Kevin plunged head first into the solid exterior wall. His whole world became one fiery explosion of light, and then blackness followed, as he crashed heavily to the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jackman was sitting opposite Ruth Crooke. Neither spoke. He’d told her all he knew, and was beginning to feel terror mounting inside him. Looking at her pale face, he was sure she was feeling just as bad.

  When his phone rang, he grabbed at it. ‘Jackman!’

  ‘It’s me, sir. Charlie. I’ve spoken to some of the residents and got an exact time for when the bike left Hansen Park.’

  ‘And it ties with our estimation of her movements?’

  ‘Pretty much, give or take a minute or so. Several people heard her leave the parking area, and they were preparing to meet up in the morning to complain to Dr Preston about the noise.’

  Jackman’s eyes narrowed. ‘What noise?’

  ‘She revved up like a boy racer apparently.’

  ‘Did anyone actually see her ride out?’

  ‘Yes, sir. The last person I spoke to said that the rider had a full-face dark-visored helmet and a distinctive black, green and white sectioned leather jacket.’

  Jackman’s mind upped a gear. ‘Charlie, go back to that particular witness and ask if they noticed the rider’s boots or trousers. Do it now, and don’t hang up.’

  ‘Roger, sir.’

  Jackman heard the young man’s fast breathing as he hurried back along the road.

  After a few long minutes, Charlie was back on the phone. ‘No boots, sir, and she thought the rider was wearing jeans or dark trousers, not leathers.’

  Jackman’s chest was tight with anxiety. ‘Thank them and get back here as quickly as you can, but make sure that a crew stays in the vicinity. Out of sight, but close, in case they’re needed. Okay?’

  He hung up, but before he could update Ruth Crooke, his phone rang again. This time Max’s voice echoed down the line. ‘Boss? I’m on my way back. It’s the sarge’s bike right enough, but there’s no one in the water. And,’ Max went on, ‘I got the fire crew boys to check the bike over for me, and it wasn’t driven into the sluice, it was pushed in. The gears were in neutral, and the ignition wasn’t switched on.’

  Jackman told him to hurry back, closed his phone, then turned to the superintendent. ‘How long have you known Marie?’

  ‘Years, why?’

  ‘Have you ever heard her rev her bike and scream off like a hell raiser?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘And if you were asked to describe what she looked like when she was about to ride off, what would you say?’

  ‘That the rider was tall, slim and wearing full leathers that matched the bike colours of black and green, a full-face matching helmet, and customised racing boots.’

  Jackman agreed. ‘The boots stand out because of the added lime-green plastics. They would have reflected in the street lamps, and she had co-ordinating leather trousers, but the witness didn’t see either. I don’t think Marie ever left Hanson Park. I think she was snatched before she even got to her bike.’

  ‘Then take your two boys and plenty of back-up and go tear Hanson Park to pieces.’ Ruth’s face was a mask of concern. ‘Marie is in grave danger, isn’t she?’

  Jackman stood up and pulled his stab-proof vest from the back of his door. ‘I rather think she is, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ll get an armed squad together.’ Following him from the office, she suddenly took hold of his arm. ‘You know where she is, don’t you? I can see it in your face.’

  Jackman clamped his jaw. ‘I don’t know for certain, ma’am, but I’ve got a damned good idea.’

  * * *

  Marie lay on Guy’s king-size bed. She could hear him moving about in one of the other rooms. The panic at being unable to move a muscle was still threatening to overwhelm her, but Guy had told her that the paralysis was temporary, and for some reason she believed him. Maybe for her sanity’s sake she had to.

  Marie went over everything that had happened, from the moment that she realised that a thin hypodermic needle was piercing her skin.

  She had just hung up after speaking to Jackman when Guy had leaned across to open the door for her. There had been the oddest expression on his face, and she had known that something was terribly wrong.

  Numbness and dizziness had been almost instantaneous. Movement had become difficult, then impossible, and she felt him gather her unresponsive body into his arms and let her slide gently to the hall floor. To her horror, he had then held her eyelids open.

  ‘Sorry, Marie, but you’re such a canny detective it wouldn’t have been long before you put two and two together.’

  The words had come to her from a great distance, but quickly faded as a rushing noise filled her ears and shock and disbelief gave way to terror. Her body was paralysed, but she was fully aware of everything around her. Marie had always had a morbid fear of going into the operating theatre and being unable to tell them that she was still awake. Now her nightmare had become real.

  She had been certain that she would die without being able to lift a finger to save herself. Then she had heard his voice.

  ‘Listen to me, Marie. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I know it’s terrifying, but it’s just a means to an end, I promise.’ Guy had sounded calm, reasonable and oddly gentle. ‘I’ll reverse the effect, but only when I know you are properly secured.’

  Guy dragged her away from the front door and along the hallway. He then let her go, opened a door and pulled her into the master bedroom, where she was now. Then he told her he had to go out.

  ‘The drug isn’t meant to stop your lungs functioning or your heart beating while I’m away. Believe me, it’s not fatal. It’s just taken care of your voluntary movement without you losing consciousness, ok
ay? You’re not going to die, Marie. The only problem you’ll have is if anything happens to me, because if I leave you too long, your diaphragm could stop working, and that would not be a good idea.’

  He was quiet while he heaved her unresponsive body up onto the bed. ‘Sorry about this.’ Panting from the exertion, he began to peel off her leather jacket. ‘I have a couple of small jobs to do, and then we’ll talk.’ He stood up and looked at her forlornly, ‘Because we really need to talk, Marie.’

  He pushed his arm into her jacket and smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re not one of those skinny women. This is a bit snug, but not impossible to get on.’ He adjusted the jacket and then said, ‘Now, you relax. I won’t be long.’

  As soon as she heard the loud revving of her precious Kawasaki, she had known what he was doing. She silently cursed him to hell.

  For half an hour she had remained motionless on the large bed, fighting to calm the jumble of manic thoughts in her head. Over and over she had told herself that she wasn’t going to die. He’d promised her that much. She must try to think of a way out of her desperate situation.

  Was this just some awful mad escalation of his feelings for her? Or was Guy the killer? What had he meant by saying that it wouldn’t take her long to put two and two together? But surely Guy Preston couldn’t be their cold-blooded murderer? She’d seen him in action and he was full of compassion, dedication and understanding. A serial killer couldn’t do that, could he? Maybe he was protecting someone? But who? And if so, why on earth do this horrible thing to her?

  Who was she trying to kid? If Guy was capable of imprisoning her in her own body — a person he was supposed to care deeply about — then what might he do to a stranger? Panic threatened to overwhelm her again, but she realised she couldn’t afford to let that happen. She fought to regain some sort of calm. Trying to clear her mind, she thought about Jackman. If she could have smiled, she would have. Her boss was the most honest man she’d ever met, and other than her husband, the most sincere and genuine copper that she’d ever worked with. Despite his Oxbridge education and privileged background, he had never made her feel inferior. Just the opposite. He made her feel valued, like the true professional that she was. And that was a scarce commodity in the Fenland Constabulary. She knew she wasn’t in love with him or anything like that. She was still in love with Bill, and she suspected that that would never change. But of all the people in the world who might be able to help her, she knew it would be Jackman. He would find her. Somehow he’d figure out that Preston was behind her disappearance. She just hoped that he’d do it soon.

  Marie sent Jackman a mute cry for help. Time was not on her side, because even if the drug didn’t kill her, she believed that after their talk, Guy Preston would.

  Imprisoned in her unresponsive body, she had heard him talking to Jackman on the phone. He had put the call on loudspeaker, and she had had to suffer hearing Jackman’s voice, unable to scream out to him to help her.

  Marie felt anger begin to burn inside her rigid body, the heat almost intense enough to melt her frozen limbs. She began to wish she had allowed Terence Marcus Austin to finish what he had started. She bitterly regretted saving Preston’s life, because he had mutated into something worse than any of his psychotic patients. She kept her rage burning. It might be the thing that would bring her through.

  * * *

  ‘I’m sorry that took so long.’ Guy Preston walked into the room and placed a tray of what looked like syringes on the dressing table. ‘Time to get you sorted out.’

  Preston worked quickly and expertly. He secured her arms and legs to the bed with thick, soft restraints, and placed a wider strap around her waist. Then he filled a syringe and slid it into her arm. ‘This will feel really scary, but try to relax. It will pass quickly.’

  As soon as the needle was pulled from her arm her heart began to race. It was almost as terrifying as being paralysed.

  ‘Keep calm.’

  Guy’s voice did nothing to soothe her. She was going to die, and the bastard didn’t care. Whatever he had given her, it was making her chest heave and her heart thunder like a runaway train. She knew her body could not endure this kind of pressure for long. She’d never thought much about dying, until Bill was killed. Then she’d thought about it a lot. But she also thought about life. She needed to live, so that this monster, this heartless killer who had haunted her in the guise of a devoted friend, was removed from society forever.

  ‘Calm down! I told you, it will pass.’ There was a long pause and then he gripped the side of her wrist and took her pulse. ‘This reversal inhibitor is new. It’s fast, but not exactly stable.’ He stepped back. ‘You will probably experience muscle cramps and nausea for a while, but your blood pressure is going down.’

  And he was right. Marie still felt as if there were a hammer drill at work inside her ribcage, but it was less frightening now. She drew in a ragged breath and tried to open her mouth.

  His fingers covered her lips. ‘Don’t try to talk yet. Just maintain your breathing and try to relax.’

  ‘How dare you! You bastard!’ she croaked. Her jaw felt as if it would snap and her aching facial muscles screamed at her.

  ‘It’s all right. I’m not surprised at your anger.’ For a moment the wounded puppy-dog look was back. ‘I only did it because I didn’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t bring myself to hit you.’

  ‘But you could do this,’ she rasped. ‘I wish you had hit me. I could understand that, but to do something as horrible, as outrageous . . .’ She spat out, ‘It’s abuse, Guy. A filthy violation.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that. I thought you’d understand, maybe even . . . ?’

  ‘What? Even be grateful? You sick son of a . . !’ She fought at her restraints but her stiff muscles cramped. She screamed, ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be trapped in your own body, to be completely and utterly defenceless?’ Tears welled up in her sore eyes and she struggled again.

  ‘Please don’t do that. I’m sorry about those too.’ He pointed to the ties. ‘We used to use them for electroshock therapy. They are meant to prevent the patient getting injured during the seizures.’ He smiled regretfully at her. ‘But in this case they are for my safety, not yours.’

  ‘Too bloody right!’

  Guy Preston gazed down at her. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, close beside her. He gave a pitiful whimper and said, ‘Help me, Marie. I don’t know what to do.’

  Marie’s anger gave way to bewilderment. She had to be careful. Whatever she said to him could exacerbate his psychosis. Tension came from him in waves, like static electricity.

  She looked up at him. Now it was up to her to be the counsellor, and she would have to be as good as Professor Guy Preston had once been. Well, she had two points in her favour. The first was that she was still alive. He hadn’t killed her. And second, he had asked for her help.

  Marie forced a smile to lips still partly numb. ‘Do you want to talk, Guy? It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere right now.’

  Guy Preston placed his hand over hers. Marie saw an immense sadness in his scarred but still handsome face.

  Guy stared pensively down at the puckered skin of the old wound on the back of his hand. ‘I noticed it shortly after Terence Marcus Austin tried to kill me.’ He looked at her for a moment and went on. ‘I cannot tell you how many times I wished that you had not saved me. I should have died, Marie. He should have been allowed to push that pen right into my carotid artery.’

  His hand began to gently stroke hers.

  ‘It began when I saw his eyes. For years, I had been looking into murderers’ eyes, but Terence Austin was different.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve seen emptiness, black holes where a soul should have been. I’ve seen callous indifference, and sometimes pure evil. I’ve talked to prisoners who have told me that murder means nothing to them. It’s easy, they told me. But Austin’s eyes held something that in all my years studying murder and murderers, I’d never seen before. It w
as a connection. That’s the only way I can describe it, a connection between him and death. He existed only for that single moment. He was totally in control over life and death and all that mattered to him was that, the point of death. That was the reason why he continued to kill.’

  Marie had also been close enough to look into Terence Austin’s eyes, but all she had seen was a calculating predator. She stole a glance at Guy’s tormented face and decided not to share her thoughts. Instead she said, ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  Guy frowned. ‘It is complex, especially for the layperson.’ The frown gave way to a patient smile. ‘Let me try to explain. We all have higher mental processes, in other words, our feelings of empathy. We identify with others and experience their emotions — anger, terror or joy — as if we ourselves were experiencing those feelings. And the most extreme experience is that of death. Do you see?’

  Marie struggled, but said, ‘Like getting involved in a scary film?’

  ‘Yes, the fascination with death and dying in movies or documentaries. It’s curiously compelling, and could be said to be a perfectly natural part of human behaviour. If we are honest with ourselves we all rubberneck at accident scenes, don’t we? We visit concentration camps, ground zero, or queue for hours to see the cadavers in “Body Worlds.”’ Guy began to pace the room, gesticulating. ‘We all have this fascination. Throughout history we have been fearful of death, and yet are drawn to it. Particularly to the moment when the soul leaves the body.’

  ‘The point of death?’

  Guy sighed. ‘Precisely. I have studied this morbid subject in great depth, but never, never have I come closer to an understanding of it than when I looked into Austin’s eyes. For a second I saw his total identification with the point of death, his connection, while his normal mechanisms became pathological and all human emotion was gone. It was a unique, life-changing moment.’