Flowers for the Dead (36 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

~ Snowdrop ~

Purity And Hope

Laura’s slack face is as pale as Snow White’s, the drop of blood at the corner of her mouth as red as a rose. And her lips…oh, her lips are as soft as petals as Adam kisses her gently, a prince waiting to stir his princess from sleep.

***

An officer holding a Big Red Key battering ram looks at Mike. Mike gives a nod.

Bang!

The door flies open and armed officers swarm inside, shouting at the top of their voices. “Armed police! Drop your weapons!”

It is deafening, and that is the point – to overwhelm people with their show of force.

“Kitchen clear.”

“Lounge clear.”

“Bedroom clear.”

“Sir, you’d better see this…”

Mike goes in and stares at the clear evidence of the bathroom door having been kicked in. There is blood splattered on the tiled floor, and the shower curtain hangs on only half its rings.

The detective sergeant and his men search the flat from top to bottom, but there is no sign of Laura. No clues as to where she is now.

Mike goes outside, adrenaline keeping the cold at bay, while he gets reports back from the raid at Adam’s house via his mobile rather than radio. Like most CID, he is not a fan of the airwave. If only he could be on the scene in Birmingham to oversee the search, he is convinced he would find some clue that would give away Bourne’s next move.

“The cadaver dog has gone nuts in the garden, sir,” describes the officer on the scene. “SOCO have started the process of digging. Did you get the photographs I sent?”

“Yep, looks like a giant mole has gone mad,” Mike observes. There are heaps of soil sitting beside five holes. “So what’s been unearthed so far? Anything?”

“There are five small boxes. We’ve opened one, and, well, there’s a pair of lips inside the mirrored interior.”

The lips that Bourne had removed from his victims. He had kept them as trophies.

“Okay, keep me updated.”

After signing off, Mike scratches at his beard. He is thinking hard. Now the initial rush is over, there is a sense of frustration.

Judging from the photographs, Bourne had ripped up his garden. It pointed to him losing his grip – and to escalation. Mike dreads to think what the consequences will be.

Never has he wanted so badly to be in two places at once. He wants to scream in frustration as he searches his mind for a clue, anything that could tell him where Adam and Laura are.  Though he deals with cold, hard facts all day every day, Mike still has enough room inside his heart for the hope of miracles. It is his daughter’s fault – he cannot believe something so beautiful and innocent can come into an all-bad world, so despite evidence to the contrary he likes to believe in happy endings.

But time is ticking on, and nothing is being found. Mike glares at the sky, unseeing, lost in thought. Adam is unravelling. This is it. This is the end. Mike is too late to save Laura. This is the end…

From nowhere, inspiration hits him.

He knows exactly where Adam is. The escalation is the end, it always is for serial killers. So Adam will have gone back to the beginning.

***

Laura blinks open gritty eyes. Her head is pounding, she feels disorientated. She is in a world of white. A hospital? Things swim into focus. No, a woodland glade that is carpeted with tiny white flowers peeping through snow. She shivers and tries to move, and that is when she realises she is tied up against a tree trunk.

The terror that pounds through her does not freeze her in place, it makes her pull against her bonds and scream, but something has been forced into her mouth, muffling her shouts to groans.

Laura’s mind is in overdrive as she realises she cannot pull free of her bonds. Tied up too tightly to escape, she will have to rely on her wits to stay alive. Stay calm, try to gain this man’s trust, be vigilant for an opportunity.

It is the first time Laura has ever seen her stalker. There is something vaguely familiar about him but she cannot place him. He is the kind of person one sees around but takes no notice of. A glimpse in the corner of your eye, someone you pass in the supermarket aisle, a driver catching your eye for a second as he goes by, neither handsome nor ugly; no one to commit to memory.

She has imagined him so many times. Funny, he does not really look like she thought. He looks smaller. A lot less threatening. A nice guy, shy and quiet. But psychotic killers probably do not often look like evil personified.

He is standing leaning against a tree, gazing at her with hazel eyes. He takes a gulp of breath in, seems to brace himself.

“Hello, Laura,” he says. And he smiles, the kind of smile that says he is really pleased to see her, he has missed her, how is she? It is the smile you give an old friend, full of love. Laura stares, unable to reply.

“Do you like sn-sn…sn…” A sigh of frustration. Laura realises her captor has a stutter. “Snowdrops?” he finishes.

Her mouth is full of sock and it’s making her want to gag. A single tear trickles down her face, but she blinks rapidly, fighting the urge to sob because she is scared she will choke, scared she will do the wrong thing and annoy her captor, scared of being murdered. But Adam is staring at her as if he wants an answer and she finds herself nodding furiously.

Agree with him, appease him, soothe him, and maybe there will be a chance of escape…

“Snowdrops create their own heat to melt the snow a-around them, enabling them to grow,” he says rather proudly, adding: “I l-l-l-like gardening. It’s one of the th…”

He pauses, composing himself before continuing. “Snowdrops remind me of you – they are delicate and beautiful, but have hidden strength. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

She gives a little smile that is marred by the sock.

“They’re why I ch-ch-chose this place. Snowdrops to console, to represent hope, new beginnings, and purity. Even the ivy clinging to the oak trees is a good omen, promising fidelity. It’s the u-ultimate setting for the ultimate sacrifice.”

A whimper of terror escapes Laura’s lips. Sacrifice? She is to be slaughtered here like a sacrificial lamb?

Adam gives a cautious smile.

“If you promise not to make a noise,” he says, “I’ll take that out. I’ll trust you. But you have to promise Laura; don’t break my trust. You really don’t want to break my trust. Not again.”

Again?
He must be referring to her security measures. She will apologise for that, then maybe he will untie her. She cannot quite believe this is happening. For all her calm thoughts, her frightened rabbit heart is still thumping. She knows she has not got long left to live. Somewhere there is a big egg timer with the sands of her life in and they are running out; she can almost feel the grains disappearing.

Adam is watching her closely. Laura nods her head, the movement barely perceptible. It is enough for her captor though, who steps forward, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he is the one needing reassurance, like he is the one who is scared.

A movement on the edge of her vision. Laura’s heart rises with hope – help is here!

But it is only a robin landing on a branch. His blood red breast stands out starkly against the white of the scene, his clever black eyes taking everything in. He watches as Adam very gently pulls the sock out of Laura’s mouth like a magician.

The man and woman look at each other, neither seeming to dare speak or move. It barely even flickers across Laura’s mind to scream. She knows that if she does it will be the very last thing she will ever do.

Stay strong, stay calm. Don’t lose it like the night of the accident.

Adam steps back, his hands stretching towards her still, almost placating her and as he does so he kicks something and stumbles slightly. Laura’s eyes immediately flicker down. It is a petrol can. And it sloshed when it was kicked.

Her heartbeat is so fast now that it feels it might fly. She tries to control her breathing. She will not give into panic and terror. She will live through this. She endured when no one else did before. She is the miracle girl who walked away without a scratch while her family was wiped out. She will survive again.

She has to because this time she really, really, really wants it. She wants life even more than she had thought she wanted death.

The robin cocks his head then flits away.

***

Back to the beginning of the story, it is the only thing that makes sense. But Mike has just learned that the home Adam Bourne was raised in was burned to the ground that morning – and a man fitting Bourne’s description had been spotted at the scene by a number of witnesses.

What now? Mike closes his eyes, lets peace descend on his fevered mind. Then opens them. Of course.

It is a different beginning that Mike needs to look at.

***

Adam stands looking into Laura’s eyes. The sun is starting to go down but the snow makes the scene artificially brighter, throwing strange shadows. The temperature is dropping along with the light. It will freeze tonight, and a crisp crust will form on top of the powder-soft snow in the woods.

“You look cold and frightened,” he says sadly.

“I am,” she says. She wants to ask why he has petrol, but dare not in case he shows her. Her voice sounds hoarse, and it feels strange to speak but she forces herself to say something, anything. “I can’t feel my hands and feet.”

“Here,” he offers, taking off his padded jacket. He takes a scalpel from the pocket, making Laura’s heart jolt in fear, before he puts the coat over her like a blanket, covering her feet too. She can’t help noticing that her attacker must have put socks and shoes on her before leaving the flat, because her feet had been bare. “I’m sorry. But you won’t have to put up with the discomfort much longer.”

More grains of sand disappear from the timer of Laura’s life.

Her terror seems to register with him. “Don’t worry, I understand, I know what I’ve got to do. Don’t be afraid. Everything’s going to be all right,” he says.

“You really hurt me,” he adds. “But then you’ve never been like the others. I thought they were real love, but they weren’t. It’s true what people say: you don’t know love until you’ve felt it, and now, finally, I really, really feel it. But my goodness, you hurt me.”

He must be feeling more confident because his stammer is improving. Laura knows she should say something. But she cannot think of a single thing. Her mind is more frozen than the ground. How will he kill her? Stabbing? Burning? Both?

Adam cups her face tenderly in one hand, the other still holding the scalpel that is sharp enough to slice through skin and muscle in an instant. Laura flinches but forces herself to look into his eyes, though tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shivering.

“I know why our relationship is not working at the moment. But I can turn this round, Laura. It’s all going to be okay. You have to trust me.”

He puts his knife away. Picks up the petrol can and slowly opens it, then he smiles that same beatific smile again. He is full of love, eyes glowing with it.

“Please…” The word escaping her dry mouth is a hiss of pleading.

“Hush, my love, hush. I’ve brought you here so that things can end but also begin. So our relationship can be born again. This is where it all began, see; this is where I brought Lisa. When she died it felt so…”

Lisa? Lisa Brookman?
In a flash Laura makes the connection. This is the man who killed the local girl in the news.

Her eyes widen and she tugs desperately at the ropes that bite into her skin. They do not give a fraction, merely cut deeper. Adam doesn’t seem to notice her struggles though, lost in the world of the past. It takes a physical shake of his head to loose him from the reverie.

“It’s all right,” he repeats. “I’m going to make everything better. Our love is pure, so what’s the best thing for purification, Laura?”

She does not say anything. She shakes her head. She is not even looking at him now. She is staring at the can of petrol. She is staring at the can like her life depends on it - because it does.

And then he says it. The answer to his own question.

“Fire,” he breathes.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

~ Fraxinella ~

Fire

Mike slams his car round corners, tyres screeching. The centre of gravity shifting slightly beneath him, the car only just manages to stay on the road and upright. Left, then right, flooring it down the straight on Shrub End Road. He’s got to be there in time. He’s got to.

“Come on you bloody car, move! Get out the way, people. Shift!” he screams, hunching over the wheel.

He goes as far as he can along Oliver’s Lane, the tarmacked single-track that runs up one side of Gosbecks Archaeological Park. When tarmac runs out and gravel begins he screeches to a halt, stones flying everywhere, hitting a Ford also parked there.

The conversations he’s had with the psychologist. His gut instincts about this killer. Mike knows everything now. He understands what the killer’s next step will be. He’s got to get there first.

He is running now, almost falling over the stile into the Roman River Valley, past the trees on his right, then the field which until a few days ago was cordoned off with crime scene tape. Another gate, more trees, he reaches a fork and hesitates. Right or left? He chooses right, running over the bridge that crosses the narrow river and almost slipping over in his haste as he plunges into the woods. Hidden somewhere inside is Laura and a crazed killer.

***

The petrol is splashing everywhere. Laura’s bonds hold her firmly in place, and her struggles do not stop Adam. He is throwing the gasoline all over the place and gasping with excitement. She does not want to see but she cannot seem to tear her eyes away from what is happening.

I can’t have survived a car crash only to be murdered. Somebody’s got to come across this. We’re in a public place.

But the cold weather has kept everyone indoors. There is no one to stumble across the insane scene of a woman tied to a tree in a snowdrop glade.

Laura’s brain rebels against what she is seeing, refusing to take it in. It is just like in the car crash: she is helpless. Cannot struggle, cannot move, cannot call for help.

More splashes of petrol.

No. It isn’t like the accident. She is not that person any more, the flames burned that girl away and changed her forever. But she doesn’t want to be that person either – the one who doesn’t want to live, who has given up on everything.

Thoughts seem to be rushing towards her. No more waiting and boxing clever. She’s got to fight with everything she’s got – right now. Filling her lungs, she grabs life with both hands and shouts for help.

Adam holds the petrol canister aloft, upside down, and the whole thing empties.
Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug.

For a moment shock makes Laura swallow her cries once more.

***

Crashing along paths, searching desperately, Mike has no idea of where he is going. More officers are on their way, but for now there is only him, as lost in the woods as Hansel and Gretel. His lungs are on fire, but he plunges down another pathway as light fades, knowing that soon he will need a torch and cursing the fact he does not have one.

He hears a faint scream somewhere in the distance. It is too far away…

***

Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug.

Adam empties the canister. All over himself. He looks utterly at peace.

“Everything is perfect,” he explains with the fervour of a cult priest. “We’ve got everything to make things right:  fire and ice, the two purest things there are.”

The smile never leaves his face and his eyes never leave hers as he pulls out his lighter and strikes the wheel with his thumbnail. A spark. A flame. A rush of heat.

The heat. It’s incredible. She rears back from it, head smashing against the tree trunk. Adam takes a step himself, stumbling around in shock. But then he steadies himself and he is still looking at her. Eyes locked on hers, drinking her in.

Laura’s screams echo in the Roman River Valley, sending snow sliding from nearby branches.

***

It was back in his garden that Adam had started to suspect he was doing something wrong. There he had been, surrounded by his beautiful garden of remembrance, primroses for Sandra, lisianthus for Irene, mimosa for Alex, stock for Sharon, and daffodils for Julie, their lips in his special Boxes of Smiles. Even Lisa had a wild cherry tree planted in her memory. But instead of finding comfort there, as he normally did, his anger had only increased as he had raged at his loneliness and laid waste to all the plants.

He had dedicated his entire existence to those women. But nothing he had ever done was enough for them. He had constantly let them down, just as he had his mother.

But then he had realised: it was
them
letting
him
down.

He had tied himself up in knots trying to make them happy, trying to turn their lives around for them. And in the end he had even sacrificed his own happiness by killing them – setting them free so that they could find peace in death, an end to their struggles. They lived on in him though, their souls bound together forever; his garden a physical expression of that.

Destroying the garden of remembrance had made him feel better for a while. He felt it had shown them who was boss. He told them he had seen through them and that from now on they had to toe the line with him, and he had felt so much happier as he had made his way to Colchester to see Laura.

But then Laura had once again betrayed him.

Only when he had stood outside his old house, watching it go up in flames to the applause of his harem, had the real revelation come. Only then had he seen things from Laura’s point of view.

She is hurting Adam because he is hurting her.

How can she possibly allow herself to be with him when he is full of those spirits? He is being unfaithful to her by keeping those other women with him – if she had other men, he would be furious.

So he must do what any sane man would: end his relationship with them. Not a simple thing to do when the women are living inside you because you have taken in their souls for all eternity.

Watching the flames destroy his old home and finally ridding himself of his mother’s voice, the answer to his problems had come to him. To prove himself worthy of Laura’s love, he must purge himself of his other lovers.

Flames were the way he would get free.

It would be a trial by fire worthy of the greatest stories. Once Laura saw that he was as pure as their love, he knew that she would put her doubts to one side and they would be together. Love conquers all.

In the glade full of snowdrops, he now looks into Laura’s eyes and he can feel the love consuming him. It is all over his skin, the heat is incredible, the pain horrifying. But he can get through it for her. She is scared for him, shrieking in disbelief, but that is because she does not understand what is happening – in the end all will be revealed to her.

The spirits do not want to leave Adam though. He can feel them resisting with all their strength, hurting him. But the pain is good, it means his plan is working and soon the women will go.

They cling to him, clawing at his flesh, their cries rising into a discordant crescendo. Julie is the first to go, she has not had time to burrow as deep into him as the others. He feels her spirit flare as suddenly as a match being struck then snuffed out. Sharon, screaming like a banshee, is seared away next. Alex and Sandra put up a fight, rising up inside him and shredding his flesh as they try to stay, begging and crying for mercy. But he has given them all the mercy he has; now, finally, Adam is being selfish.

Irene is next. She slaps him and shakes him, beseeches and wheedles. Her words are hot lava dripping on his body. He moans in agony, almost gives in, but looking at Laura gives him the strength to carry on.

Soon he will be purged of their taint and cleansed of their denigration. As each woman is seared away, leaving behind a cauterized wound on his soul, he can feel himself lightening. His only wonder is that he had not seen the truth before: that these women were selfish. All he had wanted was to make them happy, but they had been intent on stopping him from finding his own happiness, just as his mother had.

The pain is overwhelming him though. Adam is being consumed by the dragon’s breath of his gran’s fairy tales. In agony, he cries out, but he knows that if he is truly to be purged he must go through this horror. Then and only then can he be reborn, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. This is the moment his whole life has been leading up to.

Only Lisa is left now. He can feel her talons ripping and tugging at his flesh, determined to stay anchored inside him.
It hurts, oh God, it hurts!
He steps towards Laura to embrace her, to seek comfort. But his legs won’t work.

Then he screams too. His cries joining Laura’s as he falls to the floor.

***

Laura rails against the ropes binding her in place. They bite into her flesh until she bleeds but she doesn’t care, she is a wild animal willing to chew off its own leg in order to get away. The man in front of her is a Roman candle, totally consumed by flames. All apart from his eyes, which remain locked on her as if she can somehow douse him.

Utter terror has her in its grip as he falls at her feet. Petrol has splashed on her feet and clothes, and she will go up herself any second if she cannot break free.

“Someone help me! Please God, someone help me!” she screams.

An orange flame blossoms round one ankle of her jeans, and the rope looped around it. Laura tries frantically to kick snow up, to move her leg so that the fire is doused. Yanks at her bonds until one arm pops from the shoulder socket. She screeches in agony, but keeps on pulling.

***

Mike can hear screams echoing through the trees. He crashes through undergrowth, trying to see past the trunks. He must be getting closer, he can smell burning flesh and hair.

There, ahead of him! A ball of flames.

He doesn’t think, just whips his mac off, throws it over the burning body. It writhes beneath his hands as he pats at it. The smell makes him want to wretch, a horrific barbecue of crispy human flesh.

Mike throws snow over the body.

“Roll him!” shouts a voice beside him. Laura on her knees, shoving at the body with one hand, the other dangling uselessly. The two fight side by side to douse the flames.

Suddenly the living cremation stops screaming. Mike can barely make out a face in the destruction. Everything is black or suppurating red. Peeling, blistered. The nose has gone, ears melted away, and the flesh looks like the wax drips left on bottles used as candleholders in bad Italian restaurants. The lips have completely disappeared in a parody of Adam’s own crimes, a charred empty hole where the mouth should be.

The black hole opens, a rasping noise issuing from it. Flames have burned all the way down to Adam’s lungs as he breathed in, incinerating his trachea.

“Don’t speak, don’t say anything, I’m going to call an ambulance,” Mike tells Adam, fumbling for his phone.

He turns to Laura. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, while dialling.

She does not reply. Cannot seem to tear her eyes from the ruined man she kneels beside. Her face is grey tinged with green. Her right trouser leg and right sleeves are smoking but there are no flames. The charred remains of rope still circle her left wrist.

Now the action is over, she is sliding into shock, Mike realises. “Did he hurt you, Laura?” he repeats.

“What…he’s…is…” Her teeth are chattering and she cannot seem to form more than single, disjointed words.

Mike checks her over, notes her dislocated right arm, and barks instructions down the phone. When he is finished he helps her stand.

“Are you hurt?” he tries again.

“No, no, I don’t think so… Wh-wh-what’s he done? Is...is he…? Oh God, he’s not is he? He’s dead? Oh Jesus Christ… I tried to save him. Why? Why did he kidnap me and kill himself in front of me?”

All Mike can make out after that is little whimpers.

“Laura, listen to me. Help is coming, okay? Will you be all right while I check on Adam?”

She nods, but it is hard to tell if her shaking body is making her do it. Still, Mike leans over to check on the charred body of Adam Bourne.

His lipless mouth is moving. He is trying to speak.

Mike leans forward.

***

Adam looks up into kind brown eyes.

This must be the woodsman.

Hansel and Gretel. Little Red Riding Hood. Snow White. Adam.

Adam has been rescued at last, ready to live happily ever after.

He gives a gasp as Lisa finally lets go and floats free. The relief! No longer weighed down, he sees the world in its pristine state. He is no longer a dirty boy, he has been made into an immaculate man.