Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) (11 page)

Susan was on her knees stroking the dog and Brian could see the outline of her panties through the sheer fabric.

He was close to an orgasm when Susan asked if Missy did any tricks.

"Yes, a few," he said, his jaw jutting at a funny angle and his breath coming out in short pants.

"Can you show us?" Susan said.

"They're a bit rude." He knew what he was about to do could get him locked up, but he was too far gone to stop now.

"Aw, show us," the younger girl said.

"Okay, if you promise not to tell anybody." He was going to come if he wasn't careful. He hadn't been this excited in years.

"We promise, don't we, Suse?"

"Yeah, promise," Susan nodded.

He called the dog over and made her sit in front of him.

"What do you want, Missy, hey? What do you want?" he said in the doggyfied voice she understood. They'd been practising this 'trick' alone for years.

She began snuffling into the front of his overcoat and the girls began to laugh.

"Hey, what's he doing, Mister?" Susan said.

"This is the trick. Are you sure you want to see it? I told you it's rude," he warned.

"Yeah," they both said, in unison. Two pairs of innocent eyes stared at him in anticipation.

Just then, he allowed his coat to separate, exposing his large, erect penis. Missy jumped up again, onto her hind legs, and snuffled and licked around in his crotch.

The girls gasped at first, then began to giggle. Wide-eyed, they stared at him and nudged each other. Still on the floor, they huddled together, the smaller one partially covering her eyes. He still had a view up her skirt. This was too much for him and he came almost immediately. Missy cleaned him up as she always did.

As soon as it was over, guilt overtook him.

"I'm sorry, girls, I shouldn't have shown that to you. You're not old enough yet."

"I'm old enough," Susan said. "I'm a big girl now."

The younger girl didn't say anything, which worried him the most.

"Remember, it was our secret?" he whispered as the enormity of what he’d just done and the potential consequences began to weigh on him. "If anybody finds out about what Missy does they'll put her to sleep forever."

The younger girl gasped again and tears filled her eyes. "Oh, no, poor Missy. We won't ever tell, will we, Susan? Never ever."

"Good, it's our secret then. Now, will you girls be okay if I leave you alone? Where will you meet your sister?" He stood up and put Missy back on her lead. He was itching to get out of there, to put as much distance between himself, the girls, the pavilion and the park as possible without drawing too much attention to himself.

"At the swings," said Susan.

"Then maybe you should head over there now—and don't talk to any strangers, will you?"

Ever since that day, he'd dreamed about going back but had managed to resist the urge. However, it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The main reason he hadn't been back was that he no longer had poor Missy. He'd found her on the kitchen floor one morning, having continual fits. The vet couldn't do anything for her and she had to be put down.

There was no way a grown man could get away with walking through the park and pausing at the playground alone. He wasn't that daft. Parents were extra vigilant nowadays. Missy had given him the cover he needed.

He'd wanted to get a new dog, but Barbara wouldn't hear of it. She said Missy had made her breathing worse. He wanted to yell at her that the fucking cigarettes made her breathing worse—but he didn't.

Giving up, he folded his flaccid, bright-red penis back into his trousers, he knew he couldn't go on like this. He would have to do something, and soon.

Some of the panties had fallen to the floor, so he carefully picked them up and placed them back into the box. He folded the white cotton pair back into the tissue paper and put the photographs away.

He was disgusted with himself. He always felt the same, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't as if he hurt anybody. None of the children he looked at, apart from the latest two, were even aware of what he was doing. He was nothing like the others. Not like Dennis and Annie.

For years, he’d worked as a caretaker at the local school, and he always behaved appropriately. Unless, of course, you considered stealing underwear from the changing room inappropriate, but he'd never touched any kids.

Annie had also worked there as a teacher which was how they met. He wasn't even sure how the subject of kiddies had come up between then. However, it had happened, once they knew his weakness Annie and Dennis exploited it.

Five minutes later, he was back inside the house. He slammed the back door, calling through to Barbara that he was back, before putting the kettle on to boil.

Things always seemed better after a nice cup of tea.

He filled the teapot and put some digestive biscuits on a plate for his wife—they were her favourites. Then he carried the tray through to the living room. Barbara wasn't there.

"Babs, you up there?" he called up the stairs.

Nothing.

His stomach was turning somersaults. Maybe she'd been out to the shed.

He walked back through to the kitchen and paced the floor, his hands pressed either side of his head.

He opened the back door to the pitch-black night. There was no way Barbara would venture out there in the dark, he was certain of that.

Back inside, he checked the downstairs toilet.

Empty.

He began to panic.

Had she seen him?

Surely he'd have heard her if she'd come into the shed?

"Barbara!" He yelled, his voice rising.

He opened the front door. The wooden gate swung onto the path. He knew he'd closed it behind him earlier today, and nobody had been to the house since, as far as he knew.

Could Barbara have gone out?

He doubted it, considering her emphysema and how bitterly cold the night was.

He walked out to the gate and swung it shut, closing the temperamental latch as he did so. He leaned over the gate to get a view of the street, but there was nobody around. It was a total mystery.

Tiny prickles were beginning to form at the back of his neck, spreading down his spine.

Could this have anything to do with Dennis? He'd been waiting for something to happen since the first letter had arrived from Her Majesty's prison three months ago.

He ran back inside and straight up the stairs.

He searched the bathroom and their bedroom, not expecting to find anything, but he needed to check. Brian was already convinced that Dennis had done something to Barbara, just like he’d done to Annie.

***

As he stood at the gate waiting for the police, a feeling of dread enveloped him.

What could Dennis have done to her?

He wished he'd paid more attention to the news now. All he could remember was the reporter saying it was a 'gruesome scene'.

"Oh, Barbara. My sweet, sweet Barbie, what has he done to you?" he said, wringing his hands in front of him.

He didn't suppose it would take very long for the police to arrive. They'd seemed very interested at the mention of Dennis Kidd and Annie Duncan. They had told him to sit tight and wait for them.

Within ten minutes, an unmarked police car pulled up outside the house.

A short, blonde woman slowly uncurled herself from the driver's seat. She made it seem like very hard work indeed. Her grey trouser-suit looked at least two sizes too small. She pulled the jacket down over her black blouse. From behind, Brian could see where her bra strap and waistband squeezed her fat uncomfortably.

She stood upright as a second police car pulled up just behind her. This one was marked and held two uniformed officers.

"Mr Crosby?" The detective walked towards him, her hand outstretched. She had a very pronounced limp. "DI King."

Brian nodded, unable to utter a word. He ignored her hand and shuffled into the house. The officers followed.

He knew full well that he'd be in trouble now, but he couldn't live like this any longer. It was one thing having Dennis taunting and threatening him for years, but he couldn't allow him to hurt his family.

As they reached the living room DI King cleared her throat.

"Okay, Mr Crosby, maybe you should let us know the problem. PC Moore will make us all a nice cup of tea if that's all right?" She nodded at the younger officer, who had a ginger goatee that was more like bum fluff. He looked as though he should still be in school.

Brian nodded. His teeth were chattering and his breath escaped in short gasps. He made his way to his armchair and collapsed into it. The detective settled into Barbara's chair and it brought tears to his eyes.

"Okay, Mr Crosby. You said your wife was missing and you feel it has something to do with the dead woman."

He nodded again.

"Mr Crosby, we cannot begin to help you or your wife until you tell us what happened."

"I know," he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I had a letter from Dennis. He's been writing to me on and off since going to prison. But in the last few letters he threatened me. I never thought he would be capable of murder though."

"I take it you mean Dennis Kidd? The convicted paedophile?"

Brian nodded and replaced his glasses.

"What did he have to threaten you about?" She squinted.

"Nothing, really. I mean, not what you're thinking anyway."

"And what am I thinking, Mr Crosby?" she said, eyebrows raised and a smug ‘whatever’ expression on her face.

"You know—like you said, he's a paedophile."

"So tell me, then, what
was
he threatening you for?"

"I knew him years ago. Annie too. I never touched any of them kids though. You've got to believe me. I'm not a sicko." His voice sounded high-pitched and unfamiliar to his ears.

"Okay, calm down, sir." She stood up and made her way over to the older uniformed officer and whispered something to him.

The officer nodded and then left the room and the detective limped back to the chair.

Brian wondered what she had done to her leg; she was obviously in a lot of pain.

"Tell us what happened tonight. Maybe we need to try and locate the whereabouts of your wife first."

PC Moore returned to the lounge with two cups of steaming hot tea and placed them on the coffee table between them. Brian reached for his and burnt his hands on the cup. He set it down again. Everyone was staring at him when he looked up.

"Oh, erm …" He cleared his throat. "We were watching the news after dinner. That's when we found out about Annie." He rubbed the bridge of his nose—he had a migraine coming on.

"You knew her well then, sir?"

"I used to work with her at the school, years ago. I haven't seen her since, you know—since they were arrested. But I heard she was in a bad way with booze."

"So, what happened after the news?"

"I went out to the shed, to unwind. I left Barbara watching television. When I came back in she'd gone."

"Maybe she just popped out somewhere."

"No, you don't understand. She hasn't been at all well. She can barely walk. It takes her all her time to get upstairs to the bathroom with her emphysema. She would never go out without letting me know or needing my help."

"What did you do in the shed?"

"Eh?" Dennis screwed his face up. His eyes darted around the room.

"I said, what did you do in the shed?"

"Erm … I read my gardening magazines."

The detective and PC Moore exchanged an odd glance.

"What makes you think your wife's disappearance is connected to Annie?" she asked.

"Dennis threatened me. He said I owed him and he would come to see me when he got out. I got another letter from him a couple of weeks ago. He said he would be around soon, but I never heard from him again. Now Annie's been murdered and my wife's missing." The last few words came out in a rush—all joined together. Brian buried his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell the police you were being threatened?"

"Because I thought he would just want a few quid and that would be the end of it. How was I supposed to know he meant violence?"

"What did he have over you, Mr Crosby? You may as well tell me—I
will
find out."

"Like I said, I used to know him. He said he would implicate me in some way, but it's a load of nonsense," Brian said as he slumped in his chair again. He stared down at his slippered feet.

"Mr Crosby, I think it would be better if you accompany us to the station. We need to take a full statement in order for us to try to find your wife."