Eye Snatcher (26 page)

“I’ll go it alone,” Brian said.

Brad shook his head. “Don’t be stupid Brian. There’s being urgent and there’s being stupid.”

Brian got out of the car. The cold rain showered over him. “It wasn’t a question,” he said.

He slammed the passenger door shut before Brad could get a word in edgeways, and he made his way to the dark blanket of trees and night ahead of him.

Brian regretted entering the darkness of the woods almost immediately.

He was still close enough to the road to hear the traffic swooping by, but the rain distorted his view of Brad’s car. In the blackness of the woods, he heard twigs snapping, branches cracking underfoot. Wherever he heard the noises, he thought he saw movement, but whenever he focused he saw nothing. Like those black dots in optical illusions that you can only see going invisible when you don’t look directly at them.

Only a shitload more terrifying.

He held up his torch from the car and shone it ahead. It only revealed the trees closest, the soggy autumn leaves on the ground squelching underfoot. Even though this area of woodland wasn’t very large, it felt like it was Amazonian in the pitch black of night. He couldn’t be sure Adrian West was even here with Ainsley Pratt, but it didn’t hurt anyone to be sure.

Well, except him, if Adrian West’s track record was anything to go by.

A hooting sound overhead. Brian looked up. Saw movement. Definite movement. An owl? Why was he even looking for an owl? He was supposed to be searching for Adrian West. For Ainsley Pratt. He was supposed to be…

When he looked ahead again, he saw definite movement.

He blinked a few times. Blinked, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

But they couldn’t have been, because although he didn’t see the silhouette up ahead anymore, he heard the snapping of the branches.

He froze. Froze, shining his light ahead, as the branches kept on snapping to the right of him, looping around. He was sure that if he kept still enough, he wouldn’t be seen. That he was just as protected by this darkness as Adrian West, if he was in here.

But then he remembered his flashlight and he realised he was fucked and he knew that Adrian West was almost definitely gonna be in here for that exact bloody reason.

He tried to turn around to call for Brad but his muscles were frozen. Memories flooded back to him. Memories of being tied up in that cellar, the things that those evil shits had done to him.

And then what he’d done. What he’d done to Luke.

Taken a life.

Killed to save his own life, sure. But he’d killed. He was a killer, just like Adrian West.

No. Not like Adrian West. Nothing like Adrian West.

A heavy breeze battered the trees. Fine rain splashed against Brian’s cheeks. His breath clouded his view of the opening of the woods. The golf course beyond the woods barely visible in the distance.

When the breeze receded, he couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore.

He shifted his head to the right. Squinted into the dark, looked for the slightest sign of movement.

Nothing.

His heart racing, he started to turn around to head back to the car right away when he heard the mumbling just in front of him.

The mumbling froze him once again. Froze him even more intensely than before. Because it was something living. Something human.

Something in pain.

A shiver spread up Brian’s arms as he turned himself back around, dared himself to look at what was making the noise just a few feet away. He moved the flashlight. Prepared to see the dying body of Ainsley Pratt. Readied himself for another reminder of his failures this case.

When he saw the boy, he almost dropped his torch to the ground.

Ainsley Pratt was just as described. Young—twelve, precisely. He was black. Short hair. Wearing a Preston North End kit. Beside him, a little silver bicycle helmet.

His mouth was covered with duct tape and his ankles were tied together, but he didn’t have a scratch on him.

He looked up at Brian with wide, tearful eyes in absolute fear.

A renewed sense of urgency rocked through Brian’s body. Get Ainsley out of here. Get him back to the station. Back to his parents. Get him away.

“I’m a police officer,” Brian said. His throat was dry. Had a lump in it. Could barely speak with the relief, the shock, the mixture of emotions. “I… You’re okay now. I promise you’re okay.”

Brian stepped up to him with his jelly legs. Crouched down. Cupped the underside of his head that looked scratched. Grabbed underneath his knees. He’d get the ties off in the car. He’d get them off when he was out of these woods.

Had to get out of here. Had to get away.

He lifted Ainsley’s shaking, whimpering body and he moved as fast as he could through the slushy ground of the woods. He’d had to put his torch away, so he used the streetlamp across the road from Brad’s car as a marker. It seemed miles away. Ainsley felt heavy. It was like a dream where Brian was wearing lead boots and no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the monsters behind him.

Chest tight and heart racing way faster than recommended by doctors, he got close to the exit of the woods. Felt his foot scrape against something. Looked down—Ainsley’s silver bike. The one he was supposedly riding when he went missing.

Adrian West was in the woods somewhere.

That thought pushed Brian over the line and out of the woods. Because Adrian West wouldn’t just leave a boy alone like that. Unless he’d seen the police coming. Unless he’d been rattled, fled for good.

But spare the kid his life? He didn’t seem the type. Didn’t seem his style.

Something was off.

Brian waved as well as he could at Brad’s darkened window as he worked his way around to the passenger seat, cars splashing through the torrential rain. Shitting hell. Brad could at least get out. Open the door. Help him out.

“It’s okay, Ainsley,” Brian whispered, as he opened the passenger door and climbed his way inside. Ainsley could sit on his knee. He wouldn’t want to be alone. He wouldn’t want Brian to let go if there were any chance of Adrian West coming back. “It’s…”

He stopped. Stopped, just before he got into the car.

He almost dropped Ainsley.

He couldn’t understand what he was seeing in front of him. There was just something off about the scene, even before Brian registered the truth about what was really in front of him.

Brad was there. Yes. He was in the driver’s seat.

But he was still. He was still, and he was staring out the front window. Staring out with wide eyes. With fear.

Blood oozed out of an impossibly deep knife wound across his neck.

“Get in the car.”

A voice to Brian’s right from the back of the car. And then two hands. One hand that grabbed hold of Ainsley’s head and dragged him from Brian’s shocked, loosened grip, another that pressed a bloodied knife to Ainsley’s neck.

“Get in the car right now or I’ll slit this boy’s throat as painfully as I can.”

Adrian West pressed the knife harder against Ainsley’s neck.

Brian got inside the car.

Shut the door.

There was nothing else he could do.

Nothing else he could think to do.

Blood continued to pool from Brad’s sliced throat. Dribbled down his black leather jacket, onto the white dress shirt he’d worn for his date with Samantha.

The date he’d cut short to help Brian.

“You might want to move your friend,” Adrian said. “We’re going for a drive.”

Brian could feel warm blood seeping through his trousers as he sat in the driver’s seat where Brad’s throat was slit.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. The windscreen wipers slashed away the rain, but they didn’t help Brian see ahead. He couldn’t see a thing, not really. He was driving on autopilot. Autonomous, shut off, with the shock of what had happened, what he’d seen.

On the back seat behind him, he could hear Ainsley Pratt shivering and whining as Adrian West held the bloodied knife to his throat. Brian couldn’t dare look in the mirror at them. He couldn’t risk taking a slight diversion from the route Adrian West had told him to take.

He couldn’t do anything but drive. Ainsley Pratt’s life depended on it.

On the passenger seat, Brad’s body caught his eye. He was sitting there much like he did when Brian and he went on police jobs, the way they’d sat beside one another time and time again when they’d taken down criminal after criminal. It was like he was still there, still beside Brian, just another case and another criminal to take down.

Except the smell of his blood inside this stuffy car. Blood had a weird smell. A distinct smell. It didn’t smell like it tasted, not so much. There was a sweetness to it. A horrid, sickly sweetness, especially when there was a lot of it.

The way Brad’s throat had been sliced open, his jugular severed, Brian knew that a lot of blood had been spilled.

“A left here.”

Every time Adrian spoke, Brian felt a sickening blow spread through his body. He should never have left the car to search those woods. He should never have left Brad on his own. He’d let someone die. Someone had died because of him, again.

“You did well, to be fair to you,” Adrian said. “You know, I really thought you had me when we bumped into one another around Plungington. When you locked me in that interview room and asked me questions about my past, my history, all that. I really thought you had me. Funny how things work out, hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was too frozen. Too fixed in the moment. His hands shook, so he gripped the steering wheel tighter. Just had to drive where Adrian said, and he might spare Ainsley. Just had to drive, think of something along the way. Anything.

“I mean, it’s just fortunate how things fell, really,” Adrian continued. “For me, I mean. The number four bus service being funded privately… privately by the same person who runs—or ran—Galaxy. Jed. He was a help, too. How is Jed?”

“He’s attempted suicide,” Brian said, his mouth dry. “He’s probably going to die.”

He caught a glance of Adrian in the rear-view mirror. Saw him roll his eyes and tut as he sat there in his big black coat with the knife to Ainsley’s neck. “
Die
? That’s a shame. He was a good man. Helped me a lot. Really sped up my road to recovery. Not sure I’d even have been sectioned at all without his approval all those years ago. And then it was just a case of gaining a new identity… again, I know people. But it’s a shame for Jed. It really is.”

He smiled, and there was nothing but sarcasm and malice in it.

“A right here.”

Again, Brian searched his mind for a way out of this situation. For some means of escape. He was phoneless. Driving Brad’s car in the middle of who-knew-where. Brad lay dead beside him.

So he took the right. Prayed he’d think of something before the journey ended, wherever it ended.

“You know, you really should ask me some questions,” Adrian said. “Humour me. And, well. You seem a good detective. Someone who chases down leads where there doesn’t even seen to be any. Besides. I’d hate to have to kill you without a legitimate explanation.”

The last words tipped Brian over the edge. The reality of the situation stared back at him in the face as he drove the car into the countryside, darkness surrounding him.

He was going to die.

“How… Everything. Just—just tell me. Tell me everything.”

Adrian whistled. Tightened his arm around Ainsley’s neck jovially. “Wow. Everything? You’re quite a demanding guy, aren’t you? Hmm. Well, I was born in 1967 in a little terraced house in—”

“About the murders,” Brian interrupted. “About… about Sam Betts.”

He caught a glance of Adrian in the rear-view mirror again. Saw that smug, excited smile.

“I’ve been in New Blue Brook for a few years now,” Adrian said. “And I know people in high places in the underworld. Shit—I used to
run
places in the underworld. People like Darren Hopps. You know, your friend from Galaxy. They helped me get my new identity. The schizophrenic nutjob identity. I just had to play the part.”

“You are a nutjob,” Brian said, but it felt hammy and ill-conceived the second the words left his mouth.

Adrian’s smile showed that he clearly agreed. “I’ve killed long before these recent killings, detective. Street kids, mainly. Whores. People nobody gives a shit about. And the population’s high as it is. Really, I’m doing the world a favour.”

He tapped Ainsley’s neck with the sharp blade of the knife.

Brian resisted the tingling anger moving up his arms, flushing his face.

“I saw Sam Betts, or whatever you call him, walking his dog while I was catching the number four. I often do catch the number four to Ashton. Watch the mothers and children at the park. Watch the kids coming out of school, all happy. I’m not all bad. I like some happiness in the world.”

He shook his head. Cleared his throat. “Anyway. I see Sam Betts. I follow him. I knock him unconscious and I call Jed to come help me with the body. With ‘my accident’. Jed can’t believe it. He’s cursing, telling me we’re gonna have to go to the police, all that. But he isn’t so keen when I tell him I know about his nonce past and how I’d bring it up in a heartbeat, destroy his career. Take a left here.”

Brian indicated left. Turned down the next country road. The roads were getting darker with every turn he took.

“So, he helps me. Not with the killing—I wouldn’t expect that much of Jed. But he takes me to the old hospital. Lets me keep the boy there. I expected him to turn on me a few times, but you see, people are weak. You
think
they’ll put the greater good first when it comes to something as ‘horrific’ as what happened to Sam Betts. But never underestimate the lengths a weak man will go to protect his integrity.”

“I can believe that,” Brian said.

Adrian just sniggered. The way he dealt with this entire situation, it was like he was just reminiscing with an old friend about a holiday some years back. “I had fun with Sam. We both did; me and Sam, to be fair. But yeah. He awoke something inside me, I guess. Struck a chord. Showed me what I’d been craving all along. Normal kids. Ones with families who cared for them. Do you have children, detective?”