The darkness beneath, p.36
The Darkness Beneath, page 36
‘I won’t tell.’ A tear spilled down Clarke’s cheek. ‘I won’t say anything. Please don’t kill me.’
Luke put the knife away, stepped back, noting the kid had pissed himself. ‘Good,’ he told him, patting him on the cheek. ‘I knew I could count on you.’
*
The next couple of weeks passed and Luke was on tenterhooks, fearful something could go wrong and he would somehow be found out. The concrete floor was laid at the guesthouse, the conservatory erected, and Bella Golding returned from the hospital.
Word was she was pissed at Sarah’s sudden departure and for giving no warning she was leaving, but everyone seemed to buy the story that she had left the island of her own accord. Some folks remembered she had interviewed for a job on the mainland and it was assumed she had decided to take it. By the time Luke left for college, everyone had pretty much forgotten about Sarah Treadwell.
She remained alive in his dreams though and he continually replayed that evening in the basement of Bella Golding’s guesthouse, recalling the fear that had radiated off of Sarah when he had attacked her. He had lived that high before when he attacked Marla, but the feeling of omnipotence he had experienced when he had choked the life out of Sarah was on another level.
He made his first pre-meditated kill seventeen months after putting Sarah in the ground. Her name was Amber and she was a perky blond he had followed from a bar. He liked the blond ones. They reminded him of Sarah and they reminded him of Jane. He had snatched her from a secluded street as she walked home, pulling her inside the back of the van he had hired specially for the occasion. He had driven her to an isolated wooded spot, discovering that night how much he enjoyed knife play. When she was dead he had wrapped her in the plastic sheeting he had used to line the van and buried her in a shallow grave.
With each kill he evolved. By the time he graduated college he had murdered six women, had learned that by donning a disguise he didn’t have to be so fearful of security cameras and could go into bars, even talk with potential victims. He played with different looks, found the blond beach bum wig and moustache worked best. The interaction appealed to him and he liked being able to flirt with the women he chose, have them willingly accompany him, particularly enjoying that moment when he had them all alone and they suddenly realized his true intentions.
After college he took a graduate job with a law firm in Philadelphia for a couple of years, before transferring to a renowned company in East Haven. He had initially planned to stay on the mainland, figuring it would be easier for hunting, but he missed island life and his brother, and eventually relented, buying a property back on Purity. Little had changed on the island. Jenna, Tommy and Clarke still lived locally; Jenna now married to Curtis Milborn, while Tommy had joined the police. Something Luke found a certain irony in.
The three of them barely spoke, the secret that bound them together pushing them further apart, and life went on, Luke killing when the urge took over, always taking victims from the mainland and making sure they were from different towns, knowing this gave him anonymity. He had bought a second car, an inconspicuous Toyota he kept in a parking lot in East Haven, and used to hunt for his prey, keeping the tools he needed in the trunk.
One of his first purchases when he returned to Purity was a boat. The cabin cruiser he chose allowed him the freedom to leave the island whenever he wanted and he kept a second mooring spot in a quiet location not far from his workplace. It also offered an ideal place to be alone with his victims and he spent time adapting the cabin, ensuring that while it maintained the outward appearance of a regular boat, it could quickly be adapted into the perfect kill room.
Luke settled back into island life, enjoyed both his work life and his hobby. He met Stacey Monroe, moved her into his townhouse, and to the outside world they were the model couple, but then the cracks started to appear. Stacey began to show a jealous streak and grew suspicious when Luke disappeared on all night fishing trips; meanwhile, Jenna’s marriage was in a bad way and she kept trying to turn to Luke for help when he wanted nothing more to do with her.
The real problems started though when Bella Golding died. The woman had been unwell for a long while, finally succumbing to a stroke, leaving Clarke alone in the guesthouse.
Clarke Golding had always been a concern and his mother’s death seemed to tip him over the edge. Luke’s concern grew when he overheard people talking about how he wasn’t coping living up in the big house alone. It was driving him insane, they said, and he kept repeatedly proclaiming his innocence, though no one knew what for.
Luke had driven up to the house purely wanting to talk to him, find out how bad the situation was.
‘I’m going to tell,’ Clarke had announced as soon as he had opened the door. ‘You made me do a bad thing. I’m going to tell.’
‘You can’t do that, Clarke.’
‘You can’t stop me. I have a journal. I wrote it all down.’
‘Where is it?’
‘I’m going to give it to the police. You made me do a bad thing and I’m going to tell them.’
Panic rose inside Luke. He had been so careful since Sarah, but there had always been a lingering fear that she somehow be his undoing.
He had tried to reason with Clarke, but the man was irrational, a simpleton. He kept talking about a journal. Luke wasn’t sure if he was making it up, but if there was a book he needed to find it. He followed Clarke upstairs, attempting to talk sense into him, growing frustrated he didn’t even appear to be listening. He had grabbed at his arm, only intending to get his attention, startled when Clarke lost his balance, tumbled headfirst down the stairs. It was a repeat of Sarah and brought the memories rushing back.
Luke had checked for a pulse, but could see from the awkward way the man’s head hung he had broken his neck, was already dead. He had spent the best part of an hour hunting through the house, looking for any existence of a journal, eventually giving up and going home.
Three days later Clarke’s body was discovered and shortly after word began to spread that Bella Golding’s niece had inherited the place. It went on the market soon after and Luke had tried to juggle his finances, wondering if he could afford to buy it. If the house was his it would certainly solve all of his problems. He had about managed to pool enough money together to put in an offer when it was taken off the market.
Six weeks later Nell O’Connor arrived on Purity Island, looking to make a fresh start.
Luke had never met her, but his brother, Newt, was dating her half-brother, and he found a twisted irony in the fact the security of his future now laid in her hands.
The night he first met Nell was the night Stacey found his collection.
Things had been turbulent with her for months. Stacey was out of work and boredom had led to paranoia, and she was becoming obsessed with trying to find proof he had cheated on her. She had gone snooping through his things, finding far more than she bargained for when she discovered the box where he kept the Polaroid souvenirs of his victims. She had been in shock when he had arrived home from work and luckily hadn’t called the police, instead deciding to confront him.
Luke didn’t want to kill her, but she had left him with little choice, and the moment after he had choked the life out of her was when he had realized his own was starting to spiral out of control. He had left her dead on the bedroom floor, pulled the mask in place, knowing if he didn’t show up at Newt and Michael’s barbecue, questions would be asked, and needing to put on a show of normality, while he decided what the hell he was going to do about her.
When he returned home that evening he had moved her into the basement freezer, but she had returned to haunt his dreams that night, taunting and goading him, accusing him of wanting Nell, pushing him further over the edge, until he felt his sanity crack and he was no longer sure if she was dead or alive.
Standing here in the kitchen at the guesthouse, he could see her standing next to Caleb’s dead body. She tutted at him. ‘Oh, Luke, what have you done? You’re getting in deeper.’
He twitched, cut her a look. ‘Shut up!’ he barked.
‘So this is the bitch you’ve been lusting for?’ Stacey glanced at Nell then back at Luke. ‘You’re gonna kill her, right? Same as you killed me?’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
‘If you don’t kill her, she’s gonna tell. You know you have to do it.’
Nell gave Luke a wary look, clutched the journal tighter. He felt himself slip a little further over the edge, the line blurring between reality and insanity, knew only he needed that book, needed to figure a way to fix this mess.
He clutched at his shoulder with his free hand, at the wound where Jenna had shot him, poked his finger against it, grimacing at the stabbing pain, using it to draw him back from the edge and help him think clearer, relieved when Stacey disappeared. She had threatened to stay with him, to make his life hell, and he wasn’t strong enough to completely drive her away.
It had been driving him crazy trying to figure out who had taken the shot at him that night at Nell’s; his money had been on Sam Kent, as he knew Lizzie’s kid brother still held a grudge against Nell. But Jenna had confessed it had been her when she had shown up at his house the previous night, begging for his forgiveness and then for his help.
It had been jealousy. She had admitted to that. She had seen him in the grocery store buying flowers and wine, followed him up to the guesthouse, consumed by both jealousy and fear, scared he was cozying up to the one woman who could end up destroying their lives, and in the heat of the moment she had fetched Curtis’s air rifle from the back of the truck. She hadn’t meant to actually hit him she had told him. She had been aiming for the wall behind Nell, wanting to scare her.
She had been so sorry for what she had done; she had sobbed and begged for his forgiveness. He had held her and soothed her, told her everything would be okay, before plying her with drink, driving her home and slitting her wrists, aware she had just given him a get out of jail card.
Luke would tell the police she was obsessed with him and had been for years. She had killed Sarah because she was jealous and then she had taken the shot at Nell.
He wished he could figure a way to tie her to Stacey. But that was still a problem to be resolved, as was the woman currently standing in front of him.
He had wanted Nell, had resisted because she was Michael’s sister and because, since Sarah, he only killed strangers. It was safer that way.
But he had already broken his own rule when he had killed Stacey. Of course, he had been left with no choice. She knew too much and had to die, just as Nell now knew too much. Maybe it was fate, maybe he was meant to have her.
Regardless, he had no choice and Stacey was right.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Luke twitched. ‘Shut up!’ He glared at the wall behind where Caleb was sprawled. ‘Shut the fuck up.’
Nell watched him warily, wondering who he thought he was talking to. For a moment he had a glazed look on his face and appeared to have gone completely over the edge. She hesitantly took a step back as he jabbed his finger against the wound where he had been shot, yelling out in pain.
Had he killed Sarah Treadwell? It was the only explanation she could think of for why he would want Clarke’s journal so badly.
She eyed the gun, aware his mind seemed to be wandering. Would he notice if she tried to slip away? But then he was back, his focus returning, and she was aware she once again held his full attention.
‘Give me the journal, Nell.’
When she ignored the request he fired a shot at her feet. She jumped, scuttled back another step, her legs shaking. How had she never noticed this dark side to him?
‘The next bullet goes in your head. Give me the journal, now!’
He looked irrational, dangerous. Crazy even. Not daring to call his bluff, quite certain he would shoot her, she handed the book over, quickly took another couple of steps back. He didn’t lower the gun.
‘Cuff your wrists together.’
Nell glanced at the loose handcuff dangling from her right wrist and swallowed hard.
‘What are you going to do, Luke?’
‘Cuff your wrists together,’ he repeated.
She weighed up her options, realized she had none. He had said Tommy wasn’t coming. What the hell had he done to Tommy?
Michael was her only hope. He had been yelling at her when she had dropped her phone. Had he seen Caleb behind her, been trying to warn her? She could only hope he had and that he had called Alex. The only thing she could do at this point was keep Luke talking.
‘You don’t need to do this. You have the book, so why not just let me go.’
‘I can’t do that. Now cuff your wrists together. I won’t ask you again.’
Nell hesitated, her gaze dropping to the gun where Luke’s finger was twitching over the trigger. She swallowed hard, reluctantly slipped the loose cuff onto her left wrist and locked it in place.
Luke nodded and to her relief put the gun away. He rummaged in Caleb’s sports bag, fished out the keys to the cuffs and slipped them in his pocket, before grabbing hold of her arm and pushing her towards the back door.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Just keep walking.’
He led her outside, his grip on her arm tightening as he guided her towards across the backyard towards a pathway that cut through the trees.
‘You don’t have to do this. I gave you the book.’
He laughed, the sound hollow. ‘You think this is just about the book?’
‘You killed Sarah, didn’t you?’
She took his silence as affirmation.
‘It would have been okay if you hadn’t decided to dig up the damn conservatory floor.’
‘You’re the one who’s been trying to scare me into leaving, aren’t you?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Did you attack my brother? He’s supposed to be your friend. He’s Newt’s boyfriend.’
‘That was unfortunate. I didn’t expect him to come over to the storage unit while I was there.’
‘Unfortunate? You almost killed him.’
Luke shrugged. ‘Like I said, I didn’t expect him to show up. I should’ve killed him, but I felt bad for Newt.’
Nell sucked in a deep breath, anger battling against the fear. She stopped walking, wanted to hit out at him with her fists. How dare he so casually disregard Michael’s life?
‘You’re an asshole,’ she spat at him.
He actually smiled. ‘Oh, trust me, Nell. I am far worse than an asshole. Now keep walking.’ When she didn’t move, he pressed the butt of the gun into the small of her back. ‘Keep walking.’
Grudgingly she complied, her legs feeling rubbery as dread coiled in the pit of her belly. Where the hell was he taking her?
‘What happened to Sarah?’ she asked, slowing her pace, still trying to stall for time. ‘What did you do to her?’
Luke didn’t answer the question, instead roughly pulling her forward. He ducked her head under a low bush, pushing her through into a clearing to where his car was parking. He unlocked the passenger door, threw the journal on the back seat then sat her inside, fastening the seatbelt over the top of her cuffed wrists.
‘Where are you taking me?’ She asked as he got in the driver’s seat.
‘Somewhere we’ll have some privacy.’
Nell felt a shiver of fear trickle down her back, the familiar dread of tightening in her chest. ‘We had privacy at the guesthouse.’
‘I’ve somewhere better.’
She gulped for air as nausea and the familiar blackness threatened to sweep over her.
Luke watched her in fascination as she started to count. ‘I watched you at the hospital. You didn’t shed a single tear for Michael. I know you were scared and worried for him, but it’s like you have this wall and you’re scared of showing your emotions. But this, what is this, a panic attack? This is a treat. We’re going to have some fun, you and I.’
‘Don’t… don’t do this, Luke. Please… let’s talk. I… know you… don’t want… to hurt me.’ It was getting harder to breath.
He paused, his hand on the ignition and he looked at her, those vivid blue eyes that had been cold and emotionless now filled with a predatory hunger. ‘Oh, but I do, Nell. I’m looking forward to it.’
*
Sam Kent was in the cabin of his boat, drinking a cold beer and watching the sunset when he heard the car engine then footsteps on the dock and he peered out of the porthole window, curious who it was. There were only a handful of other boats moored at this spot and most folk had finished on the water for the day. He tended to come down here for peace and solitude, needing to be alone with his own thoughts after the revelation that Curtis Milborn had killed his sister, and it pissed him off a little that someone was intruding on that.
He saw the feet first, a woman’s sneakers and a man’s black boots, and as they passed his boat, heading further along the dock, he saw the rest of them come into sight, realized it was Luke Trainor and Nell O’Connor.
He rolled his eyes, was about to reach for his beer, when the pair of them appeared to struggle, Nell trying to shake off Trainor’s grip on her arm. He caught her roughly, making her squeal, yanking her against him, covering her mouth with his hand, and at that moment Sam spotted the handcuffs on Nell’s wrists.
What the fuck?
That had his attention and he discreetly headed onto the deck curious as to what the hell was going on. He watched as they reached Trainor’s boat; saw Trainor pushing Nell down into the cabin.
Something wasn’t right here and it looked like Nell could be in trouble.
He shouldn’t care. Curtis may have been the one who plunged the knife into Lizzie, but Nell had put her in the house in the first place. After everything she had put him through he should pick up his beer and turn a blind eye. Except he couldn’t
Picking up his cellphone he called the police.
*
Nell wasn’t in the guesthouse, but her ex-boyfriend was, half of his head splattered up the door of one of the cream cabinets; it was clear from the contents of the sports bag lying on the floor beside him that he had come to the house intending her harm.
