The River Runs Dry (15 page)

He turned to the door, and saw Carla walking down with the girl, her arm around her, whispering and talking to her as she went. The girl's tears had stopped now, her face like stone. She was pale, her eyes red and unblinking.

Jack stepped forwards quickly and held the umbrella over them, walking them slowly towards Carla's car.

The rain still fell, bouncing off his umbrella and shrouding his voice as he whispered into Carla's ear: “ride her up front, this girl's not a criminal."

...

Jessie's face grew in terror at the images that were splashed across the television. Her breathing was hard, her pulse rushing, her eyes threatening to stream with tears.

She was staring at an image of Darcia's house, police tape outside it, a couple of officers standing near the front door. A female reporter was speaking in the foreground, the microphone held up to her mouth.

“There's been no word from police about exactly what happened here last night, on this quiet road in the north of Burgess, but the speculation is that the Butcher has struck again. We have reached out to the police but they are yet to comment. We'll have more news for you when we get it.”

Jessie felt her heart almost explode in her chest, the vision of Darcia, her eyes cut out and hair shaved off, filling her mind. Tears began to build, dropping down her cheeks as she jumped to her feet and ran out the door towards her car.

The world was a blur around her, her hands and feet shaking as she stepped inside her car and started driving north. She could barely see through her tears as she drove, the street still drenched in the residue of the previous night's storm.

She flew through puddles, the red water splashing up and covering the windshield, dripping down it like blood cascading down a wall. She couldn't get the image out of her mind: her friend, her best friend, her sister, killed by the devil.

The journey went by in a rush, her mind turning over and over with horrible thoughts as she tore through town. It was still early, the streets quiet, no traffic hindering her progress. Before long she was there, skidding to a halt through the wet dirt on Mountain's Way Road.

She jumped out and saw a police car there, one officer sitting inside it, and another standing by the police tape which stretched across the front of the property.

There were press there, a couple of media vans with reporters and cameramen busily preparing their next report, but Jessie took no notice of them.

She rushed straight forward towards the policeman, panting wildly, tears still wetting her face.

“What happened?!” she shouted, “is she dead? Is Darcia dead?”

She kept going, trying to move past the officer and into the house. He stopped her, stepping in front of her and holding out his arms.

“I'm sorry miss, you can't go in there.”

Jessie pushed forward against him, but he held firm.

“I need to know what happened!” Jessie cried. “She's my best friend! What happened! Is she dead?”

The cop looked down in her eyes, a desperation inside them, and lowered his voice. “I can't tell you miss, I'm sorry. Now please, step back.”

Jessie kept struggling. “No, tell me, tell me what happened!”

Her voice was rising now, raising the interest of the reporters nearby.

“Miss, keep your voice down, please.” He looked over at the approaching media, the cameramen already heaving their cameras on their shoulders and ready to shoot. “The girl isn't dead,” he said quietly. “Your friend is safe, she's back at the department.”

Jessie stopped struggling immediately as he spoke, her eyes widening as she stared straight up at him. “She's...OK?” she said, her voice quieter now.

The officer nodded. “She's at the PD....”

That's all Jessie needed to hear. She didn't listen to what the man was going to say, she just turned quickly, ran back to her car, and tore off into the center of town.

…

Jack sat opposite Darcia in his office, Carla still by her side offering comfort.

“We need to be sure what happened last night Darcia. We know it was an accident, and no one is blaming you. Just...explain to us exactly what happened.”

Darcia was still shaking, even hours after the event. She'd been in Jack's office with Carla for a long time now, slowly beginning to calm. For a while she'd been inconsolable, unable to speak, unable to do anything but cry and shiver.

But now she was only shaking, her words riddled with grief as she spoke.

“I thought it was the killer,” she said quietly. “He opened the door quickly and stood in the doorway. He said something about killing me and...I grabbed the gun from my drawer...”

Her words were brittle, threatening to break down once more as the image ran again and again through her mind.

“I didn't know it was Tim. I had no idea it was him. I was half asleep, I didn't know what had happened until I'd pulled the trigger...”

“It's OK,” said Carla, grabbing her hand. She was excellent at that, always a calming presence. “We know you didn't do it on purpose.”

Darcia spoke again. “What....will happen to me?”

Carla looked briefly up at Jack, before speaking again. “Nothing. This isn't your fault. We've talked to your parents and they're flying home now. They should be here this afternoon, and you'll be able to go home.”

Darcia nodded and cried again, mumbling once more through her tears as Carla hugged her: “I killed him, I killed my brother.”

Jack watched on, his eyes grave and serious. He'd never seen such grief as he'd seen on the faces of the victims of the last few weeks. And Darcia was a victim. Just as much as anyone else, she was a victim of the Butcher's crimes.

A light knock at the door sounded and Jack looked up. It was Chloe, standing outside and gesturing Jack out.

He locked eyes briefly with Carla, who stayed with Darcia, before stepping from the room.

“Detective Slade, there's a woman at the front, she's upset, she wants to talk to you.”

Oh Jesus, what now?

“Right, what's her name?”

“It's Jessie Trent, says she wants to know what's happening with...the girl.”

Jack's eyes shot up and veered down the corridor. “OK, leave it with me.”

He walked forward quickly and around the corner, seeing Jessie fidgeting as she stood at the front desk. Her eyes lifted to his and he immediately saw that she'd been crying, a redness around her pale face.

“Jack,” she said, her words frantic, “what's going on with Darcia? Is she here? Is she OK?” She spoke quickly, moving up towards him as he paced forward.

“It's OK Jessie,” Jack said, “Darcia's fine, she's not hurt.”

He could see the relief flooding out of her. “So what's going on? What happened?”

Jack steadied her body, reaching out with his hands and placing them on the sides of her arms. “There was an accident, Jessie. Her brother was shot. It was....her who did it.”

Jessie's eyes widened once more. “Tim? But why? Is he OK?” Her words rushed again from her mouth.

Jack's expression gave her the answer and she once more grimaced in pain. “No, no, he's not....dead?”

Jack nodded. “I'm sorry Jessie,” he said, “it was a terrible misunderstanding.”

Her eyes were lost now, blinking frantically as she tried to process what he was saying. “Where is she? Can I see her?”

Jack took a breath. “I'm sorry Jessie...I'm not sure...”

“Please,” she said, her eyes locking on his, an agony inside them. She stared at him, her will breaking him.

“OK,” he said, this way.”

He turned and she followed, taking her through the building and towards his office at the back. Jessie could see Darcia inside, through the glass, being comforted by Carla. As soon as she got there she went straight through the door, not waiting for Jack to enter or to tell her to go in.

Darcia's eyes shot up at the sound, deeply red and still running with salty tears. When she saw her best friend her face disintegrated further, more emotion rushing out of her as Jessie rushed forward and hugged her.

Darcia was mumbling into Jessie's shoulder now, once more stricken with grief and regret as Jessie spoke comforting words to her, stroking her head and trying to soothe her.

Carla moved away and went to stand next to Jack, her own face riddled with heartache at the scene in front of their eyes.

“She'll never get over this,” she whispered to Jack. “It will ruin her life.”

Jack nodded, unblinking, an anger creeping through his body.

Another life ruined, more grief for this town to suffer.

And it wouldn't stop...not until he stopped it.

Chapter 17

A silence ran down the corridor, the sound of murmuring only quietly audible at the end and around the corner. It was late, and the hospital in Kanton was running in a low gear, only a few nurses and doctors still holding the fort in the intensive care unit.

One doctor walked through casually, his eyes darting as he went. He drew no looks from anyone. There was nothing unusual about him, just a doctor in a white coat walking through a hospital.

He reached a door and stopped, peering inside. A smile crept up his lips as his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, a patient lying in bed. He quickly looked to his left and right, seeing no sign of movement either way, and stepped inside, pulling the door shut quietly behind him.

Now he stood in the dark, the light breathing of the patient on the bed gently reaching his ears. He moved forward, stopping as he looked down on his patient, his prey.

His voice whispered in the darkness as she slept, her head heavily bandaged and face badly scarred.

“It's just us now, Leanne, just us, all alone. I've come to finish what I started.”

She stirred at the sound, adjusting her body position a touch and grimacing in her sleep. The sound of his voice was penetrating her dreams, creeping into her nightmares, a world he now dominated.

He watched for a moment, a temptation creeping through him to pull away the bandage, to see those empty sockets staring back at him. But he didn't. He had no time for such pleasure. They'd be more of that to come.

Then he drew a syringe from his pocket, already full of liquid, and hovered it against her neck with his left hand. His right drifted to her mouth, ready to pounce.

Then it all happened in a flash. In one quick movement, he plunged the syringe into her neck and squeezed, pushing the poison into her bloodstream. Her reaction was immediate, her body tensing and her mouth threatening to shout out. But his right hand was ready, falling straight down over her mouth and nose and clamping it shut.

In a moment he was done, the contents of the poison quickly causing her to convulse and shake rapidly, frothing at the mouth before falling unconscious. He swiftly pulled the syringe from her neck, released her mouth, and turned, walking quickly out of the door, and back down the corridor.

The entire thing had taken moments only, no time for anyone to realize what had happened, for anyone to react.

He walked back through the hospital and out of the front entrance, still calm, still casual. As he left he heard a commotion and the sound of footsteps, but he didn't flinch. They weren't coming for him, they were going the other way.

No one escapes me. I always start what I finish.

He walked out into the night, the air cooler than it had been before, and continued towards the back of the hospital, pulling off his white jacket as he did. He dropped it casually to the floor, the syringe still in the pocket. He had no need for it, there was no way they could trace him.

But he didn't completely undress, he didn't give up his entire disguise. No, he'd keep his wig on for now, he wouldn't remove his prosthetic nose or glasses.

Those stupid cops can keep wondering who I am, what I really look like. They won't get any help from their precious CCTV tonight.

Then he laughed, lightly to himself, as he continued walking through the town, just as casually as if he was going on a Sunday afternoon stroll.

…

It had been a long night for Jack, a long, long night. But the day was only about to get worse.

It was still morning time after the accidental shooting and death of Tim Robinson, and Darcia remained in Jack's office with Jessie, Carla watching closely from just outside the door.

Jack stood, however, with Bill, who'd only just arrived back at the department. He'd called him straight into his office to give him yet another dose of horrible news.

“How's the girl Jack?” was the first thing he asked as he sat down behind his desk, inviting Jack to sit opposite.

Jack shook his head. “How good can you be after something like that?”

“I see your point,” said Bill quickly. “She's not the reason I called you in here though. I've just had some news from Kanton General. Leanne Graves is dead.”

“Dead?” Jack said quickly, his brow dropping in confusion. “How? She was stable.”

Bill looked at him for a moment, not saying anything, and Jack quickly got the message.

“She was killed? By him?”

Bill nodded slowly. “We believe so.”

“But how? Wasn't there a cop on duty at her room? They posted a man there, didn't they?!”

“Details are sketchy Jack. I haven't spoken to Chief Kayser over at Kanton PD yet. As far as I knew it he'd posted a man there.”

Jack shook his head. “This is fucking ridiculous Bill, imagine what those jackals in the media are gonna do with this. They'll crucify us.”

“Well, at least their attention will be on their PD, not ours. Like I say, Jack, I don't know what happened yet, so let's not jump to any conclusions.”

“So how did she die? Tell me he didn't make her suffer.” Jack's voice carried more of an edge now. He was slowly, inexorably, getting attached to these victims, to their pain and suffering. He couldn't help that now.

“Injection. I'm told it was a lethal dose of pesticide.” His own faced crumpled slightly as he said the next words. “It would have been...painful, Jack.”

Jack stood and paced to the wall, leaning against it with his head low and eyes to the ground. “CCTV?” he asked, his voice deflated. “Have the police interviewed anyone yet? Have they checked the tapes? What about her father, was he not there? Did anyone see the guy, we've got a description out. Did nobody notice him?” His words started to rush, flowing off his tongue in desperation, anger.