Devil's Demise (13 page)

Taylor felt she had no sooner gone to sleep when the alarm went off. “No, no, no.” She sat up and a wave of nausea swept over her. “Why do I do it? Drink and work do not mix, not with me anyway.” Her hair was dishevelled and her make-up still on. She sighed and began getting ready.
I’ll have to get a taxi into work. My mouth feels toxic. I have fumes for breath and would definitely be over the legal drink drive limit. What an asshole I am. Will I ever learn?

Marcus was already in the office, clean shaven and immaculate as always. As for Taylor, her suit was slightly askew and her hair not as neat as it normally would be.

“I need coffee,” she said. Marcus looked at her with mirth in his eyes.

“Heavy night, huh? Tell me you didn’t go out after the shift last night. Did you?”

“I did and I regret it and I don’t need a lecture from you either, just coffee and lots of it.”

“Findlay’s been out already. There have been over a thousand calls since last night. The Holmes team have been working flat out to create actions for the squad to pursue today.” The Holmes team was a special unit of officers, who took every call and piece of evidence and referenced it. They created an action for every lead and cross referenced everything to avoid missing any vital connections.

“Great, and there probably won’t be more than a handful of genuine ones with real leads to follow up.”

Taylor sat at her desk, her head pounding, her eyes heavy with lack of sleep. She stood up to go and make another coffee when Kay came into the office. She looked over at Taylor and Taylor’s face flushed as their eyes met, but it wasn’t with the usual lust, it was with guilt and remorse. Kay smiled at her although she could feel her stomach churn inside. Was she imagining what she had just seen or was Taylor acting a bit differently? It wasn’t the look she had hoped for.

“What’s with you today? It’s more than a hangover, isn’t it?” Marcus asked in a respectful way.

“I didn’t, you know. I started to and did enough to feel like a real shit house.”

“Are you fucking crazy? Kay will string you up - that’s if she ever speaks to you again!”

“I’m a fool with a needy ego. I like the thought that I can do as I like but I’ve never really had to suffer any consequence before.”

Peter sat at his desk surveying the multitude of screens in front of him, hoping to spot trouble brewing before it came to anything. He jumped as John came into the room, which unnerved John as he wondered if it could be real fear.
Don’t be stupid
, he told himself.
Act normally and avoid any suspicion.

John said, “Are you surprised to see me in here today then?” and laughed.

Peter replied, “Thought you were gonna be off sick for ages.”

“Got bored to tell you the truth. What’s been happening here, anything exciting since I’ve been away?”

“Not in here but the city is buzzing with the cat an’ mouse chase going on with that guy that’s been terrorising the city. Did you even watch the news last night John? Because they showed a photo fit on the late news and it was a bit freaky; it looks a bit like you. You would’ve shit yourself if you’d seen it.”

John froze inside. His guts tightened into a large knot and it took him every ounce of strength to hide the sick feeling he felt deep inside.

He smiled at Peter, “You’re kidding me right? Surely there can’t be another great looking guy like me about in the city.”

This confirmed it in Peter’s mind that John was just John. Nobody could be that cool about what he’d just said, if he had been the actual killer. Satisfied, Peter dropped that subject and started talking about football as usual. John had a coffee and was patient, biding his time before heading out of the room.

Sweat beads formed on his forehead as the reality of the situation hit home.
Fuck, they’re closer than they think. The filth is in here all the time, it won’t take them long before they work out who’s who
.

He went to the lift, his stride confident and not in the least bit shifty, and headed for the car park beneath the building. He had made the decision that he had to get some cash and leave his work, his house, and lie low for a while, or maybe forever. He
stepped into the underground parking lot an expansive, desolate space with room for over 300 cars, where the sound of your footsteps echoed eerily when you were there on your own. His heart was pounding; he felt like a trapped animal. For the first time since he had started to kill, he experienced fear and terror of being caught. Nausea drifted over him and he felt physically sick. The feelings were short lived when he heard the clacking of heels heading his way. He looked up and saw a woman 20 metres away. She stopped and froze on the spot. The fear in her eyes was clearly visible and she began to shake.
What’s wrong with her?
he thought to himself.
Who is she anyway?
Only as she turned away and started walking quickly back towards her car did he remember that she was the female from the lift the other day, the one with the tidy little ass that quite clearly didn’t like him.
If Peter was right and that photo fit was good, who knows what she is thinking?
Does she suspect me? I can’t take the chance
. He moved quickly towards her.

Terror engulfed her as she heard heavy footsteps behind her. Lucy Millar wished she hadn’t been so obvious in her change of direction; she should have just walked past him and not even given him a second thought, not even glanced up at him.
Too late now
, she thought, kicking off her shoes and running towards her car as fast as her legs would carry her. Big mistake! Her petite frame and lack of height gave John an instant advantage and he closed the ground between them quickly as he was tall and still quite able. Lucy fumbled frantically in her pocket for the key to her car. It seemed to take ages, her fingers grasping around, hysterically hunting for its familiar shape.
Got it!
Elation overtook her as she thought she stood a chance to escape. Lucy reached the door of her car; she’d managed to unlock it as she ran, her trusty Ford Focus sounding a comforting beep, beep. She grabbed the door handle, pulling the door open as fast as she could, scraping her leg on its the bottom edge, only to have her arm wrenched away with such brutal force it dislocated instantly and pain seared into her shoulder joint.

He stared into her eyes. Pain pulsed down her arm as the truth about her recognition of him and what he was bore down on her. As he stood ominously over her, there was no hiding it. Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled as John raised his hand up in a clenched fist above her head, realisation
dawning of the futile situation she was now in. She was about to plead with him but before she could open her mouth, punches rained down on her fragile being. Her head and body were pummelled relentlessly and brutally until she was completely unrecognisable, face deformed, bruised and bloodied. He kept on until he was sure her life had passed from her body. He looked around him, his breathing heavy with the exertion, checking for any witnesses to the savage slaying. Scooping up her tiny body, he popped the Ford’s bonnet and dumped her in the boot, shoving her legs round cruelly to fit, showing no emotion or remorse for taking another innocent life. There was a bottle of mineral water in the front drinks holder and a cloth in the door of the car that he used to try and clean up some of the blood from the car and the ground nearby. This would at least conceal enough to buy him a little time to sort things out and possibly prevent detection or pursuit for a while longer, enabling his escape.

He turned and walked towards his own car, which was parked 50 metres away, locking Lucy’s as he went. He sighed and thought how lucky that turn of events had been. The girl had known who he was, who knows what she could have done to him? Apart from him stopping her blabbing, she had given him a thrill he hadn’t expected today. It was a pity he couldn’t treat her to the full package. She had been quite a tidy wee thing and it was a shame to waste the chance of enjoying a body like that. She would have loved what he had to offer. He got in his car and was about to drive away when he remembered her shoes and got back out of the car to retrieve them when another car pulled into the parking lot.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, knowing he would have to leave them behind and hope no one missed her for a while.

He drove slowly as he left the car park, deliberately not drawing any attention to himself. He stopped a short distance away, he called his boss at work to apologise for his premature return to work, saying he would need to go off sick again as he had not fully recovered from his illness and had come back too soon. Another believable ploy, which would add legitimacy to his comings and goings and again give him more time to do what was necessary before they caught up with him; he needed time to have one more special evening with Susan. He was a bit bewildered at how quickly things had unravelled so badly for himself.
One minute he was untouchable and the police didn’t have a clue and the next they were practically breathing down his neck; all of this because of Susan. How could he have been so careless? He should have made sure she was dead. He thought to himself about the night they’d spent together and his final blow, which would have killed a buffalo, but didn’t kill her.
Susan’s will to live must be very strong, but not as strong as my desire to kill. I’ll have the last laugh and you’ll wish you had died that night, you useless bitch. I
’
ll make sure of that.

He had enough of his wife’s money stashed away to start up elsewhere but first he had to purchase a few items to disguise his identity, buy a car and collect a few things from his house. It would no longer be safe to stay there. This time he would be leaving his wife for good; on his terms of course.

He pondered whether to leave everything behind at this time as he could not be sure what the girl at the office had done already; maybe nothing, but he could not take the chance. Even his work colleague Peter had made a comment. Although jokey, it had obviously been such a good likeness that his guilt might have been a possibility and Peter might change his mind, or at least say to someone else who would take it further.

“Fucking bitch, I’ll make you pay. Your life is mine. This time there will be no mistakes, and more pain than any human being can imagine.” Intent on revenge, he repeated this to himself over and over and had not noticed that he was rocking back and forward in the car. He was salivating, his teeth were gritted and his face contorted into a hideous mask of pure evil and hatred. Only when he heard a horn behind him did he snap out of his trance and pull away at the green light. His driving was a little erratic due to the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins from the slaying of his colleague. He was just about to pull onto George Street in the centre of town when he noticed a police car pull up behind him and start to follow him. He turned down Frederick Street and made sure he didn’t make any more mistakes and obeyed the speed limit. He was in two minds whether to give them the slip or not, but that meant certain capture if he couldn’t get away, as any vehicle making off would usually draw a multiple response to ensure its capture; he knew this as he had watched and listened to many pursuits. Police were like dogs with a bone in a pursuit; they just wouldn’t let go. They
would have checked out his vehicle already by this time and it would come back, showing valid insurance and MOT and there should have been no issues. Maybe they thought he was drunk or something, so they would probably stop him.

He looked at his hands, his knuckles were bruised and a slight spray of blood was still visible on the back of his hand. He was glad of his dark clothing, any blood would be almost invisible to the naked eye or. He licked the back of his hand and frantically wiped the blood off onto his trousers, making sure there was none left to be seen. Inevitably the blue light came on and a short blast of the siren signalling him to stop came straight after. He stopped as quickly as he could, along from the botanic gardens, a very wide road with a popular park on each side and the gardens on the other, a popular destination for families with plenty of space to park, perfect for a vehicle stop. He stayed in the car, trying everything not to rile the officers who would come to the window to check him out.

“Everything alright sir?” the young officer said.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Is there a problem?” John knew what the cop was doing; he was trying to get a whiff of his breath to see if he could smell alcohol, so he spoke clearly and directly to the officer with a respectful tone throughout the conversation. “Why have you stopped me, officer? Was it when I stalled my car at the lights back there on the bridges? I was in a little dream.”

“You seemed to be a little preoccupied sir, a little angry.”

“I was, I was a little pissed off about an incident just before. I was cut up on the Royal Mile by some guy in a black Merc. Sorry! I’m only human.” John gave his most sheepish plausible grin. His believable tale as to why he was angry was not uncommon. The young cop believed what he had heard and John’s details had checked out. He was about to let him go when the old sweat of a cop lumbered towards the window. He wasn’t going to be quite as easily put off the scent and probed John a little further regarding his behaviour. He looked a bit like a jowly blood hound on the scent, hunting down his prey. “Do you like boxing?” he asked.

“No,” John replied, “Why do you ask?” knowing fine well why he had asked.

“Look at your knuckles. What happened there, Sir?”

“Nothing really. I’ve just got a bit of a temper and hit a few
walls earlier when something annoyed me at work today,” John replied calmly. It was the truth and came across that way to the officer but he still wanted to check him out further and was about to ask where he worked to check that it wasn’t a person that had been hit instead of a wall. Neither officer had attended the briefing that morning because they had gone straight out to a grade one domestic call and had not seen the top item on the brief - a photo fit of the suspect for two murders and numerous assaults, who just happened to be staring up at them from his car.